Playing on the Computer

Chase

2008-03-21T01:06:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was my dad's birthday, but nobody cares about that anymore; March 20 is now my nephew's birthday. He is named Chase Garret Madsen and he is a baby. I went to meet Chase and he slept the whole time I was there(rude). But he seems like an ok fellow just the same and I hope to get to know him better at a later date.

EDIT:
Here is what he looks like. Handsome, yes?

It is cold.

2008-02-10T13:32:00.000-05:00

Hey here's a blog update for you.

It is winter. Nothing happens; we sleep and we wait for spring.

OK no. Stuff happens. I am in cooking school and it is fun. I mean, I go to a four hour class and i come home and make more food for fun. So that is agreeing with me. I went to one of my classes last week to find that class was canceled because the teacher had passed away. I mention it just because it's weird, I mean I didn't know the guy. 's unusual. They're getting a replacement, luckily.

We got my sister all married off and she lives in Muncie now, so that's pretty cool. I didn't blog about the wedding (quite nice) or post pictures (I look frickin awesome in a tux) because I am lame.

So this weekend I was fixin' to start work on another Flash game because jayisgames.com is having another competition. But I stupidly downloaded some shady programs, one of which turned out to be a trojan, and it started queering stuff up in my computer. No problem, says I, I'll just reinstall everything. But then I dig out my Windows CD and there's a big ol' happy-fun crack in it. Crap. So I spent all weekend fooling with that instead of doing anything useful.

linguistic obfuscation analysis results: minimal!

2007-12-06T14:44:00.000-05:00

The graphic embedded above displays the result of an automated appraisal of the accessibility of the verbiage represented in my periodical musings. I consider "elementary" an exceptionally positive characterization, as for what purpose would I desire to intentionally ostracize such patrons who possess lesser literary acuity?

Report: I GOTS A PUPPY

2007-11-28T15:39:00.000-05:00

I forgot that puppies are awesome. Somebody must have dumped him off near our house because my dad found him under our porch. This is him:

I don't know why anyone would throw away a perfectly good dog but he's mine now.

I can't go walk around outside without being followed around by all these dogs and cats, and I have to make sure they get along. My cats don't know if this new dog is someone to play with or someone to run away from.

My sister's wedding is in 10 days. Dang. There are so many things to prepare for a wedding, I am exhausted from hearing about it. The baby is a boy and will arrive March-ish. Nephew!

My desktop be sprawling

2007-10-11T22:11:00.000-04:00

I got a new computer monitor. It is wide and it is 19 inches across. It looks huge here on my desk, like the windows are going to swallow me up. What I'm trying to say is there are more pixels here than I am used to dealing with.

I got a check in the mail today from IVY Tech College. Did I tell you that I am receiving education at IVY Tech? I did not; I am sorry. But I got a butt-load of financial aid by virtue of the fact that I am 24 years old(and therefore the government considers me "independent") and I did not make a lick of money last year. Today they sent me the remainder and it is almost $1500. That's as much as I made total at my last job. I tell you I feel bad about it, but it's tempting to try to live off the money-printing powers of the government, once one has got a taste of it.

2007-10-09T10:14:00.000-04:00

I have produced another game for a competition at jayisgames. This time I am pitted against 49 other skilled ludologists. This means bad odds for me but a rich bounty for those who enjoy fun.

The consensus on the site is that my game, entitled "Balancing Act" is too hard. I think people just need to increase their feeble balancing skills.

2007-09-29T17:56:00.000-04:00

Man, it really sucks to be on the receiving end of my parent's big talks. My sister got one today. I hid in my room the whole time (me being there would not have helped)and I got a little shook up just out of sympathy. I eavesdropped a little but I couldn't stand to listen for long.

It's hard to explain why the talks are so bad. There's certainly a lot of guilt involved. Disappointing my parents is one of my deepest fears. But the worst part is the questions--the "what are you going to do if..." queries that sound like rhetorical questions--except you'd better have a good answer ready. If you don't you'll be cut down with doubt and more guilt. The implication is that you're not ready to make decisions for yourself. That's crippling. If they ever had some good advice to give it would be different, but they don't. It's just doubt and belittlement.

Oh, and dad, the repeated death threats against her boyfriend do not help. That is the stupidest thing you could say in that situation. I'm not crazy about the guy either. He came over for a few hours last night and didn't have the balls to broach the subject. Nobody brought it up. We watched TV.

When you're 27 years old you should be past the point where you have to answer to your parents. Maybe this force her to change her life. She says she's prepared to move out if she has the baby and that would be a great start. She needs to grow up. After all, she apparently kept this secret for some months. Does that sound like what a teenager would do? Well, that's what happens when you treat a person like a child. Twenty-seven! She's an adult. They shouldn't even have to have this conversation. She should make her decisions and then tell us what she's going to do.

I'm not going to let it happen to me again. I'm taking responsibility for everything I do and I'm not answering to anybody if I don't have to. Please parents, don't micromanage your kids' lives. They won't grow up.

*(The weird thing is, I somehow sensed that she was pregnant a few weeks before I was told. Of course, I thought It was my imagination. When my mom told me I barely reacted. It was like I already knew. In the days that followed nobody mentioned it and I felt like I had imagined the whole thing. The blog post I made later that day was my best evidence that it was real.)

GALLIVANTING HAS CONSEQUENCES

2007-09-25T17:36:00.000-04:00

It seems that recent disgusting biological developments threaten to make the apellation "Uncle Carl" more than just a joke. In fact it is not funny at all; I am filled with fraternal rage. I thought I had set a good example for antisocial behavior but apparantly I was not strong enough of a role model. My fears have been verified, and the light of truth have made them monstrous.

I do like the numbered lists.

2007-07-17T20:44:00.000-04:00

1. After getting sacked from the parks dept. I went to work at a factory that made paper plates. It sucked ass so I quit. I hate paper plates, and it turns out I hate them even more when they are rapidly coming out of a machine 32 at a time and I have to make them disappear.

2. I made a video game and put it into a competition. You can play it. YOU CAN PLAY IT HERE. It is called "Super Earth Defense Game!!!" because titles are hard.

3. I am thinking of going to culinary school perhaps. I visited one in Indy and it seemed nice but the total cost is $35,000. For a 70 week program. HOLY CRAP. Thank you ma'am I think I may explore some other options before I make my decision.

Carl's free time is generously restored to him

2007-06-29T16:03:00.000-04:00

Budget meetings portend badly for the lowly temp. I got sacked along with two others. Apparently the mayor wants to have his parks maintained without paying money for it. While I, of course, take this type of setback in stride, the last two hours of work after I heard the news were less than motivated. I also took it upon myself to soothe the nerves of fellow firee Greg, who was stuck in disgruntled mode. But then I'd never known him to be very gruntled anyway. Some people just have stressed-out personalities, which I find very strange.

Heh. I've got some Stevie Ray Vaughan playing and my dad just asked me from downstairs if it was me playing the guitar. Um, no. I'm not quite that good yet. :D Thanks, though!

2007-06-03T00:18:00.000-04:00

1. Work is hard on one's hands. Currently, If I bend the middle finger on my right hand, it sticks there until I forcibly straighten it out. I think this shouldn't be.

2. Here are pictures of things which live in my pond.

goldfishes are hard to photograph because they live under water and my camera wants to focus on the water's reflections instead of the fishes.

If you cannot tell, this turtle is very tiny, about an inch wide. I had to sneak up on him very carefully so he would not swim away. Even as I took this picture he was getting suspicious and starting to edge away. There are two of these that I've seen. I have no idea how they found their way into the pond.

3. My sister Emily now has a boyfriend, and so spends much of her time away from home and (presumably) gallivanting. I am very disappointed because that is not the way we were raised--to willingly associate with humans! Oh, well. The man seems largely inoffensive. He's come over and had "getting to know you" conversations, which I've mostly avoided, because, you know, humans. My dad seems to like him. It seems that if you just keep agreeing with my dad, he won't stop talking. Funny how I never noticed this on my own. :)

2007-05-21T16:21:00.000-04:00

Garfield-head-Joe didn't come back after his first day. I think we broke him.

Also...

2007-05-17T17:27:00.000-04:00

Is this guy's work genius or trite? I can't decide.

Joe Garfield

2007-05-17T17:17:00.000-04:00

This guy started his community service working with me today. Did the guys in the shop make fun of him? Oh yes.

This guy is a minor celebrity in my house. I think he is an OK bloke but probably lacks common sense. In the coming days I plan to gain his trust and extract the whole inside story in all its sordid detail.

2007-05-02T16:11:00.000-04:00

Matter park is full of rocks. and bricks. I don't like digging in it. But driving one of these around is fun.

Fancy colours

2007-04-25T15:04:00.000-04:00

I have messed around with my blog template! Expert analysis reveals that this color scheme is 20 to 30 percent gayer than before--while I, naturally, find it attractive. Experts can bite me. Also I hope you will enjoy the complete lack of paragraph margins which has the benefit of making the text harder to read. But I think it looks cool so it's an even trade.

hi.

2007-04-24T18:01:00.000-04:00

It has been one million years since I have made a blog post, partly because winter is generally boring and uneventful, and partly because blogger does not like to work with my interweb browser (Opera). I think apologies are in order from all parties involved (excepting you, dear reader. You can do no wrong).

I have secured a summer job at the Marion parks department. I have done trimming and driving and shoveling and picking up of things, mostly. It is easy and hard at the same time, which seems in my experience to be an accurate way to describe employment.

That is, incredibly, the least boring fact I have to report. Therefore I close.

un-blog. *whooooosh!*

entropy in half-stereo

2006-09-07T00:27:00.000-04:00

Headphones break. That's what they do. I'm sitting here with my only remaining set of headphones in which both ear-thingies work, but there's no longer anything to hold them on my head. They are the big can-types phones that smother your ears and I have to hold them up with my hands or scrunch it up to my ear with my shoulder. I'm just trying to listen to some sounds late at night without waking people up but the impermanence of all things electronic is foiling my enjoyment.

I have a bunch of headphones that only half work or that I could probably fix if I had a soldering iron. That's the saddest part of entropy: There's that one shining moment of flawless operation, then majority of its existence is spent moldering in uselessness. I wish that when things broke, they went out in a puff of smoke. Scratch in your car? Poof, it's gone. It's unworthy of your worship now anyway. Cracks in the sidewalk? Rip it up before it gets any worse. I'll walk in the grass. At least that's self-healing.

I guess that's one impulse behind consumerism and planned obsolescence: staying ahead of the constant deterioration of matter. Of course, most people--including myself--don't have enough money to keep everything perfect. No new headphones for me until I get a job. You know, a job to pay for new headphones. To break. Noooo.

Perfection is a dangerous illusion. Maybe some people are inspired by the ideal, but for those of us who, perhaps, take things too literally, it paralyzes. If perfection is unreachable, what, then, is the goal? In my life I have been plagued by this mindset: Why can't I just do something in the proper way--the way they tell you it's done? When things start out wrongly I feel like quitting. This is not to say that I don't think I can succeed. There's just this nagging feeling that if I hit reset and start again, things will go as intended--like throwing away your broken stuff and buying all new--I swear this time I'll take care of it.

I think the answer is to proceed in the best way possible--with a clear set of principles. Example: I don't know everything about life or death or God or the Universe. In fact I surely hold a lot of wrong ideas, but this doesn't bother me. Instead I wish simply to go forth with integrity of purpose. I think that even in failure, no endeavor taken with such integrity is a waste.

Holy crap, I actually started this post intending just to bitch about broken headphones. Sometimes I scare myself.

2006-09-01T00:44:00.000-04:00

Monticello is the house of Thomas Jefferson. It is a rather small house though it is quite a fine abode. There are a great many people who visit Monticello, and if you do not know my opinion on people it is thus: They tend to diminish my enjoyment. Of places and things. I am also displeased by hasty, strict tour guides who disallow photography.

Colonial Williamsburg is a crap-load of history coming at you all at once. The best thing about Colonial Williamsburg is that the buildings are air-conditioned. Though perhaps my opinion has been colored by the fact that we went it was a million degrees centigrade out. Our strength was drained by early in the after-noon.

So one of the more interesting things about Williamsburg is that they have these little skits and speeches on the street throughout the afternoon regarding the Revolutionary War, and they attempt to get the crowd involved, yelling 'woo' and 'yay' and especially 'huzzah' (often in triplicate), but it's kind of hard to get excited because we all know how it ends. Yeah, OK, I think the Declaration of Independence is alright, but I've read it before and I'm rather ambivalent in my feelings towards King George. Not excited. Sorry. You get a pity cheer.

"Simon says everyone who loves American history look left." In fact, they are looking at Mr. Benedict Arnold. This man seems to be rather unpopular for some reason. I wasn't really paying attention.

"No, you can't 'look at' one of the muskets."

Weird thing I wish I had a picture of but didn't: I saw a young lady ask a colonial actor to hold a large zucchini--which was wearing a nose and glasses--while she video'd him. She said it was "traveling the world". He called it "a prodigious squash" and asked if she was going to eat it after she was done. I employed Google to try and find evidence of this quest (and maybe even see myself on video; I was standing right next to the guy at the time), but no luck. Nothing would have made me happier than to read of this intrepid squash's adventure.

Panorama-rama continues:

Virginia Beach is a quite pleasant place and we enjoyed perfect beach weather. The ocean is too salty. They should really do something about that. It's disgraceful. As you can see we had a commanding view of the Dairy Queen (which did receive our patronage). There is an air force base near the beach, and so fighter jets like to fly over all the time. It's like we're fighting a war or something. I got just sun-burned enough to feel satisfied. I saw a shark's egg and I touched a jellyfish and some girls showed us how we could dig little burrowing crabs out of the wet sand but I never got the hang of it. Then end.

2006-09-01T00:11:00.000-04:00

Hey, Blogger, at where at is that button at that lets me upload pictures at? At? I want to post the post with the rest of my vacation pictures, but that post won't be posted without the button that's ain't at where its apposta be at.

Photogenesis

2006-08-19T23:52:00.000-04:00

"Thomas Jefferson, I've had it up to here* (expressing a moderate level of exasperation) with your enlightenment ideals. Why, I could just turn away and attempt to mimic your posture whilst you forge your historic document or whatever."

Other points of interest:
-What's with my eyes? I'm all squinty.
-Unfortunately placed piso mojado sign complete with slipping stick figure.
-My dad wandering in the background, akimbo and beheaded.

*Up to my balls, that is.

Yeah, I said it.

How to make eggplant casserole

2006-08-16T19:13:00.000-04:00

...or, how to be a fancy chef but kind of suck at it.

Ok, so say you suddenly find yourself with a strange vegetable--in this case, an eggplant. Step one: get on the internet and Google the name of the vegetable until you find a recipe that sounds okay and doesn't have any weird ingredients that woul neccessitate a trip to the store. Take note of the list of ingredients and the instructions, then forget it because we're going to do whatever we want anyway. For advenced cooks, read two different recipes and confuse them in your mind. Professional chefs call this technique fusion.

We have to bake this eggplant in the oven until it's soft inside. The oven is broken so we'll have to use the toaster oven. Don't worry, it will work. Cut the eggplant into quarters (Actually don't. I think that was a mistake) and place on the rack. Set the toaster oven controls to "eggplant". If your model does not have this setting, turn it to "hot".

Now we have to cook some tomatoes. Wash the tomatoes--oh, dad turned the water off to do plumbing--wipe off the tomatoes. There's no room in the toaster oven, so lets put them on the stove. Let 'em roll around a bit in the pan until they seem cooked, or until you are tired of looking at a bunch of tomatoes. Now dunk the tomatoes in cold water so you can pull the skins off. Ow. Frickin'... OW! They're hot!

We have to saute some onions. Leeks are like onions but fancier. More importantly, I inexplicably have all these leeks here in the garden and I have to do something with them. Chop 'em up and throw 'em in the pan. Oh, and some garlic, too. I've never used fresh garlic in my life, but here's some dried minced garlic that's probably 20 years old. I won't tell if you won't.

Turmeric? That's some kind of spice, right? If we have some it's probably tucked way back in some dusty corner somewhere. I'll substitute in some, uh, thyme! that smells ok. Some ginger, too. I like ginger. Salt and pepper, of course.

I think the eggplant is done now so lets take it out. Smells like sweet potatoes. Now I kind of wish we'd made those instead, but for now we have to mash this up. Ew, it turned all brown and some of it is stringy. Mash mash mash that's enough. Now that the oven's free, I'll put those tomatoes in for a turn, make sure they're cooked.

This kitchen is such a mess. Why doesn't someone clean it up once in a while? There's no room to set anything down.

Okay, now everything's in the pan simmerin' away. Last thing we have to do is beat in a few eggs and let them cook.

What the hell, this stuff looks like puke. But it tastes good! There are some bits of leek in there that are kind of chewy. Maybe we should have let those cook longer but what can you do about that now. Nothing that's what. Apologize and serve with the fancy salad you made out of squash and not-quite-ripe-because-it's-still-august apple slices. Your family will just pick the apples out and eat those.

vacaciones

2006-08-15T23:56:00.000-04:00

Charleston is the capital of West Virginia and it has nestled itself on both sides of the Kanawha river, a rather pleasant waterway. It seems that you have to cross the river to get anywhere, which is really quite okay by me. That dome is the capitol and it is gilded. Unfortunately you can't see that here but it looks nice.

When the ugly duckling grows up this is what he really turns into. He got pretty annoyed at me following him around and trying to take his picture. Probably because he is so ugly.

Here is a barge. The barge man waved at us and we waved back. I think the Delmar Jaeger is an awesome name for a tugboat. This is more like a pushboat though.

This rakish wax gentleman greets visitors at a Virginia visitor's center. We arrived just before the rest stop was infested by a busful of middle-schoolers on a field trip. Upon wandering into the visitor center proper, lined as it is with holiday brochures, one young person was heard to exclaim, "Is this a library?" Our colonial-garbed friend, however, was deemed "tight". I can't say that I disagree with that assessment.

Virginia is far too bumpy for the tastes of a boy from Indiana but at least it is something to take a picture of. I took about twice as many frames as I needed to make this panorama(click it, yo!) but no matter.

Here are things which are hanging on a wall in a folksy manner. ~~I took a picture, and now you are looking at it.~~ No explanation needed.

This lady is a park ranger on Blue Ridge. We had a very nice long chat about Appalachian history and log cabins and other various topics. As usual I stubbornly refuse to use my camera's flash ever, which results in blurry and/or dark pictures. This time I had to fool with the levels in Photoshop to make the scene visible. Let's pretend I'm just being artistic, 'kay?

Uploading pictures tires me. Next time, Tommy J's house, hot, hot Williamsburg, and the watery abyss where wyrd monsteres do swim.

This is a woman who is sick of trying on sweaters

2006-08-15T01:26:00.000-04:00

Or maybe it's the gold pants that's got her down

this is the link. this is the important part.

Leave No Trace...Rap!

2006-08-13T17:16:00.000-04:00

When I go in the woods,
I leave no trace.
If you don't do the same,
I be in yo' face!

I plan my trip
Well in advance,
So I'm never flyin'
By the seat of my pants.

When I'm on a hike,
I stay on the trail.
I don't want to trample
Grass that's frail.

I pick no flowers.
I leave what I find.
If I find something special,
I leave it behind.

I pick up the trash
And I pack it out.
When I'm hiking around,
I don't scream or shout.

I choose my camp site
So it can't be seen.
When I leave in the morning,
The site is clean.

I camp away
from the water source,
so animals can follow
Their natural course.

I make my campfire
Neat and small,
Then I hide the remains
Ashes and all.

When I go in the woods,
I leave no trace.
If you don't do the same,
I be in yo' face!

Found at the head of a trail in the Appalachians

holiday

2006-08-11T18:08:00.000-04:00

This past week I went with my family and we drove and drove and drove until the ocean blocked our way. Then we walked into the ocean but it was scary and salty and full of dolphins (porpoises?) and jellyfishes and waves. So we drove back home. Mayhaps I will post pictures in a later post with details. Right now I have to read all the stuff that's accumulated in my RSS reader and try to find out something that you can do with eggplant (I have an eggplant. I've never had eggplant before).

lolz l8er! :0)

Car Crash

2006-07-23T18:03:00.000-04:00

The sound woke up everyone in the house at 4 am but no one knew what it was. I had been dreaming, so in my half-asleep state I was simply confused. My first impression was that some machine broke and violently stopped running. We lost power, so my parents went out to see what had happened. I followed and this is what I saw: A green Mustang (I think) upside-down and backwards next to a tree. It was smashed. The top was either gone or crushed, and there were car parts everywhere. I found (tripped over) the car's battery. What looks like someone's elbow sticks out of the twisted door. About 50 yards back, the telephone pole next to our driveway was shattered. My parents had called 911 on the cell phone, so presently a sherriff's deputy arrives and we go back to the house. Within minutes the road is lit up with emergency vehicles.

Today, after everything was cleared out and towed away, myself and the neighbors went out and looked at the tracks to figure out what happened. This first picture was taken from where the car came to rest. The car went through that pole (which was already replaced and the power restored before I woke up again) before bouncing and sliding to a stop.

Second pic shows the pole from the other side. The mailbox was untouched, which was hard to believe until we saw this. I've marked the tracks and the landing site. The guy must have blown the stop sign and lost control to slide off the left side of the road, because these tracks in the grass lead back quite a ways.

He hit the driveway like a ramp. The car was estimated to have hit the pole about 7 feet up from the ground.

Strange things I think about at a time like this--like the strange disparity of human experience. In such close proximity one life is destroyed, a bunch of people go to work restoring power and hauling away wrecks, and a family lights candles to see and debates whether to go back to bed. 12 hours later everything is back to normal, mostly.

UPDATE:
News post
Some people came today to leave a cross on the spot.

Celebrating our founding fathers

2006-07-04T10:38:00.000-04:00

Things you didn't know about George Washington (video)

God hates fresh vegetables

2006-06-22T23:13:00.000-04:00

I'm not a superstitious person; in fact I think of myself as quite the skeptic. When the mole started digging in my garden I took it simply as a problem to be solved. Indeed, I eventually rooted out the pernicious insectivore. Then several days of rain and cold temperatures killed off the seeds. This too I took in stride. I replanted.

At this time I conceived the notion that my horticultural endeavors were not smiled upon by a higher power. Should I not have done my planting on a Sunday? Nonsense, fancy and jest! I am a man of reason and a pragmatist(as any farmer must be). The weather soon improved and the crops grew heartily, more or less. I felt vindicated.

Little did I know that this reprieve was merely prelude to my ultimate downfall.

That is a tree. That is the garden under it. A mighty wind rose up today and toppled this old hickory, crushing my produce and with it my hopes and dreams. Against such forces, what can I do but rage, rage gainst this cruel mystery which toys with me so?

A case study: Social idiotry in 23 year old idiot. You idiot.

2006-06-10T22:23:00.000-04:00

'So I don't know I guess when someone says "tenth" to me, I hear "twentieth", and I continue to think "twenty" even when I have a piece of card right in front of me that quite clearly, now that I inspect it closely and it is too late to do anything about it, reads "ten".'

The above quote was written by the subject of this case study. His specific condition is as of yet unnamed. Some descriptors have been suggested which aptly portray the patient's condition, but they are all unfit for publication here due to coarse language.

This patient has deficiencies performing simple tasks such as being at a certain place at a certain time, maintaining communication, keeping promises, and other life skills collectively known as "being a friend" and "not being a screwup".

Treatment: We ordered the patient to cease all further attempts at social interaction. We feel that the patient is doomed to fail and frankly, does not deserve the attentions of those good, decent people who might tolerate the patient's constant foolishness, inefficacy, and self-destructive behaviour. The patient was advised that if he should feel lonely, the resulting social void could be satisfactorily filled by lower life forms such as animals, plants, and people met through the internet.

Prognosis: Don't be silly.

I just had to share this

2006-05-31T11:10:00.000-04:00

A spam message managed to slip through gmail's filters today. The first line reads:

"It is time to end the anguish of the length of ur thing."

Oh, the anguish!

-=the serious part starts here=-

Spam and the software that's built against it is an amazing arms race. The few ads that get past my filters are those without a single word that could could identify them as such. In the past, spammers used misspellings like 'ob ese' or 'V1agra P1lls' but the current generation of filters are built to learn those.

I clicked on the link (with a completely innocuous-looking URL, that they likely have to change constantly), and there weren't even any red-flag words on the page. The ad was just a large image. So even if the spam filters read the links contained in the mail, they wouldn't catch this one. I wonder how long until they install character recognition software to catch words contained in image ads like this one.

Wars are the greatest stimulators of technological advance and this is nothing short of a war to save email. What's next, an AI that can read and understand English to tell when a message is wanted or not? That's a pretty hard challenge, especially considering the grammar contained in these spams.

Junebugs are unpopular.

2006-05-19T11:42:00.000-04:00

In case you are bored and you are on the Internet(which is assumed), I am providing links upon which you may engage (or, in interweb parlance, click) your mouse.

Girls are Pretty
This blog is in fact a calendar that tells you what you are going to do every day, even unto the rest of your life!

Damn Interesting
Educational! Articles about things which are interesting. Damn.

Comics:
Scary Go Round
Young people experience supernatural intrigue. In England!

Questionable Content
Relationship suspense! Girls with issues.

Something Positive
Comic about making fun of stupid people (mostly)

Beaver and Steve
Beaver + Dinosaur + Imagination! = Adventures

Diesel Sweeties
Robots who act like people. People who look like pixels.

MegaTokyo
Gaming geeks go to fictional Tokyo. Japanese girls with issues.

Now you can waste time the Carl Foust way. O Joyous Occasion!

Skippin Like a Stone

2006-05-05T11:47:00.000-04:00

Junebug!
Why are you so dumb? What are you doing climbing up my lampshade?

Perhaps you emerge from the lawn at dusk feeling kind of randy and wanting to have a good time.
I can understand that. You do what you want. I'd probably feel the same way if I were pupating in the ground all winter, or whatever it is that you do.

But my room is not some kind of club where you can buzz on in to find like-minded single junebugs, fly clumsily around, crash into the wall and then fall to the floor.
Just because my light is on, that doesn't mean "Junebugs, come on in!"
I don't want to have to put the screen back in my window just because of you.
I mean, geez, Junebug. Don't you even know what month it is? It's May! You're like, a month early.

Seriously, you and your buddies have to get out of here. Let's go.

Today was a very good day

2006-04-19T20:09:00.000-04:00

Among my many accomplishments:

Got up

Answered the phone

Scored a job interview (see items 1 and 2)

Laid bricks

Got dirty

Enjoyed fine weather

Received a sunburn

Built fire in new fire pit (see items 4-7)

Cooked steaks (see item 8)

Ate steaks

He's sad because he doesn't exist.

2006-04-09T22:01:00.000-04:00

New floor and walls

2006-04-08T19:35:00.000-04:00

It looks just as awesome in person but it's kind of a shame I have to bring my old crappy furniture back in. It also seems like I ought to paint some pictures to put up on the bare walls but I'm not that creative nor industrious.

W-2, where are you?

2006-03-22T12:21:00.000-05:00

It's unbelieveable how one misplaced document can disrupt your entire day. O, Mr. IRS man, can't you just leave me alone? I'm not worth it.

I am posting on my blog yay.

2006-03-19T23:08:00.000-05:00

Sorry 'bout the run-on sentences. I don't feel grammarish right now.

I've had five pictures now published in the paper, so good for me. But I'm still really bad at finding people and talking to them. My editor emailed me to ask for some more but my internet wasn't working so I didn't do them and then she emailed me later and said "what's the deal?" So I told her I'd do them but then I went out and didn't get any. THEN she told me don't bother because she's assigned them to someone else. So I hope I, you know, will still get work from them even though I am not gregarious and outgoing enough to do what they asked of me.

What annoys me is that the photo editor guy, when he looked at my previous work, told me I used light well and had artistic sense and was good at composition and that that was important to them--but then they sent me out to take mugshots of people to be cropped down and the backgrounds cut out. So maybe my ineptitude at this assignment will cause me to be moved to a job that actually employs my skills?

I've got one of those cases of chapped lips that starts spreading across your whole face and stops responding to chap-stick. So I've got that going but I think it's getting better. Also I either have allergies or a virus or something or something. Fascinating Carl, fascinating!

Also I'm in the process of moving all the crap out of my room in order to remove the carpet that's the same age as me and install some less allergenic flooring. These truly are the best days of our lives.

Alas, poor mouse

2006-02-21T14:51:00.000-05:00

Today we remember our dear friend laquatious, who passed away this morning.

I'll be brief. He was a good little boy.

The Backyard Diner

2006-02-10T23:28:00.000-05:00

What a strange decoration to have in a restaurant.

2006-02-10T22:55:00.000-05:00

Today I went to Fairmount to take pictures for the paper. One of the questions I had been giving was about the change in the hours at the BMV (you know, where you get your driver's license) in that town. So I went there.

The place was pretty packed. First, I saw a guy playing a PSP. I started to talk to him, but when I asked him if he wanted to be in the newspaper, he quickly said, "no thanks." Then two ladies who had been waiting left. One who had come in just before me said something about not wanting to spend her entire Friday waiting. So I went outside and caught up with them. They said they certainly had an opinion to share, but they didn't want their pictures taken. Crap. So I went back inside and talked to a young guy who said he was there waiting for his friend. I got a quote and he agreed to let me take his picture. Success! Then I went across the street to a nice little smoky diner and ate some delicious chili and grilled cheese and drank Coke and watched Gunsmoke.

I'm certain I'd never seen Gunsmoke before, but for some reason I heard the theme song and I instantly new what show it was. Weird.

Then I got in my car and started driving toward Marion. I felt really tired, so I put some gas in the car and went home and watched some episodes of the Twilight Zone.

So it kind of sucks that I only got one picture out of four or five that I should have got for that town. Man, if it turns out to be out of focus or messed up or something I think I'll cry. I'll just have to go out tomorrow and work harder to hit the other three towns.

Shoot his face

2006-02-07T12:28:00.000-05:00

I just got my first newspaper assignment. I have to go to the various small towns around the county and ask people their opinions on various topics. Then I have to shoot them in the face. With my camera. I get $5 for each one published. I hope they publish lots of them. This job doesn't pay much.

This presents a huge challenge for me because I'm not an outgoing person. Striking up a conversation with a stranger is not an easy thing for me. Hopefully, "I'm from the Chronicle-Tribune" will serve as a good opening line. Another problem: where am I going to find these people? It's kind of cold outside, so they'll probably all be inside. I'll have to hunt them out.

I must choose to be optimistic. This is not something I can't do. It will be valuable experience.

I'll just keep saying that until the weird feeling in my stomach goes away. Yeah.

Cool news and stuff

2006-02-06T11:17:00.000-05:00

I just signed a contract to be a photo correspondent for the Chronicle-Tribune. If, as a consequence, interesting things happen to me, I will blog about them. Though I don't suppose anyone is still watching this space.

Their photo editor seemed to be rather impressed with the previous work I showed him, which is really cool.

Curses. How did they do that?

2005-09-08T03:56:00.000-04:00

It's 3 am and I've had all night to think. I have learned a few things about my relationship with my parents.

1. They always end up being right, even if they have to wait until the future for what they say to become true.
2. They have the ability give me a neurotic condition by mere suggestion.

I mentioned to them yesterday that I had not been sleeping very well--waking up in the night and so on--and they took this to mean insomnia. Now I have insomnia. I really. really. need to move away.

Breaking News: I am completely useless.

2005-08-23T11:47:00.000-04:00

I just got laid off after three full days at my new job; the employer cited "performance issues", so now I'm back on the temp list, and I just have to pick up my check on Friday and wait for another stellar employment opportunity.

Man, I'm so sorry I wasn't as good as my job as the guys who had already been doing it a while before I got there, especially because they decided not to train me or even tell me what was going on half the time. Considering, I think I did a damn good job.

Yeh, good riddance I guess, but this isn't doing wonders for my eslf-esteem.

aCTUAL wORK 2

2005-08-16T22:48:00.000-04:00

Yesterday a girl called me and made me pee into a cup, and today I went to work at my new job (apparently these two events were somehow related).

I've never worked so hard in my whole life. 10 hours of putting boxes into semi trailers. My legs hurted so bad. At one point I literally thought I was a mule. Or at least I thought I knew how how a mule feels.

And everybody speaks Mexican. Look, I'm no shipping manager, but when you have the new hire work with a couple of guys to learn the ropes, try to make sure they speak the same language. It will work much better, and will be a much more pleasant experience for the newbie. Pointing and grunting is not a healthy means of communication. I don't like to talk much, but I like for people to speak to me Thankfully there was a nice guy (went to my high school) who came by and helped me out a few times.

Why do Mexicans always MUMBLE?! If you actually spoke up and An-nun-ci-a-ted I might be able to use my high school Spanish classes and pick up what you are saying. Even in English they mumble. I think speaking Spanish makes your tongue lazy.

Now I'm super tired and I'm hearing that little voice again that says, "go back to schooool, ya loser!" And this time it's not my parents.

I'm a genius

2005-08-11T18:27:00.000-04:00

I figured out the root of all the world's problems today. Well, some of them, anyway.

When it's impossible to create some virtue in another human being, people will attempt to enforce the semblance of such virtue.

Take education. The ostensible motive for education is for students to learn. We learn best when we are motivated, but giving a student the will to learn or an interest in a subject is incredibly hard. If a student decides the lesson is irrelevant, doesn't respect the teacher, wants to be somewhere else, There is not much that can be done.

What are the tendencies of a student who wants to learn? They don't skip class. They listen attentively and take notes. They act respectfully toward their teacher. They do homework. Aren't these the kind of issues teachers struggle to correct every day? In the absence of eager students, educators try to create the image of such. They have a delusional belief that this type of environment leads to learning, when it is the other way around. In short, they are going about it backwards.

Good students also do well on tests. Standardized testing is a slightly better measure of learning, simply because it's hard to fake your way through. However, If we grade schools on test scores, we are repeating the same mistake. It makes so much common sense; good test scores indicate good education, so let's get test scores up. It's like treating the symptoms to cure the disease.

How about respect? So many people define respect in terms of acting in a respectful manner. They want to be treated "with respect" but what they really want is the appearance of respect. Real respect is esteem. Try as you might, you cannot coerce someone into thinking highly of you. So people in positions of power who do not command respect will demand deferential treatment from their subordinates. This can only breed resentment. To earn my respect, give me something worth respecting.

Or morality? I'm a moral person. I know what is right and wrong and I try to do what is right. I know a moral person when I see one. They do good things, too. Now, if we could only get those bad people to start acting right. Then they'd be moral! Maybe they'll resist at first, but as soon as we wipe out those nasty habits they'll be good people again.

It must bother people when so much is beyond their control, that they start exercising control wherever they can. They become confused as to their true purpose, chasing the illusion of what they want. I think I'm depressing myself. Still, it feels good just knowing what's wrong. I was going to conclude by suggesting how to remedy the problem I just described, but maybe I'll leave it up to you to figure it out, mm?

I caught you a delicious fly

2005-07-24T21:57:00.000-04:00

This morning I noticed a praying mantis on the ceiling above my window (below which is my bed). Now I have a new pet. Twice today I caught a fly and fed it to him by sticking it on a toothpick and moving it in front of him until he grabbed it.

I notice that it's been exactly one month since my last post. Maybe this is the ultimate format of my blog: A gross picture on the 24th of each month. Tune in next time!

Screw it--Everything Is Beautiful

2005-06-24T11:40:00.000-04:00

...in its own way

I met a possum

2005-06-22T11:15:00.000-04:00

Went for a bike ride yestersay at about 6am. Stopped at a little old 19th/early 20th century cemetary and took pictures.

The most disturbing thing I've seen in while: a dead possum on the road. Not too unusual, but around it were little pink bits. I thought at first they were possum guts, but on further inspection they were baby possums(!) Now biologists, you know that possums are marsupials, so they are born premature and grow in a pouch on the mother. So these newborn possums looked like little squashed fetuses lying all over the road. I took pictures. And wouldn't you know it, traffic decided to pick up, so who looked like a freak on a bike taking pictures of roadkill? I don't know if I'll post them, for fear of losing my readership(eheh. HAHAHAHA). But they are available upon request.

On my way back, I noticed a book on the side of the road and picked it up. It turned out to be The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane. Inside it is a receipt showing someone bought it at a used bookstore for $3.98. As I continued, I found a bunch of new, blank notebooks and other assorted books. I started gathering them up until I realized I didn't want them and wouldn't want to carry them back, so I dropped the notebooks in a stack where I found them. Maybe whoever dropped them would come back to get them. I stuck The Red Badge of Courage in my pocket and continued.

It was around this time that I noticed my front tire had gone flat, so I had to walk the two miles back home. But you don't hear me complaining.

O man I think I need to clean off my desk.

2005-06-14T23:45:00.000-04:00

I just let my mouse loose on my desk and while exploring he found a cheese cracker under some stuff that I didn't know was there. He carried it off to behind my monitor and ate one corner off of it.

Actual work

2005-05-26T23:15:00.000-04:00

To-day I planted soybeans for my dad. I didn't really want to but it's not like I had anything better to do and how could I refuse? Now I'm tired and I want to take a shower, which I think I'll do shortly. Planting isn't really work; it's like mowing the lawn with a massive riding mower, but a full day of it can leave you pretty tired. I doubt I'll get paid for it, but free room and board is pretty sweet, and my time isn't currently worth anything anyway.

I always feel bad when I read other people's blogs because it seems like they have much more interesting lives than I do, even if they are just writing about boring stuff like blogging (metablogging!) or funny things their friends said, or where they went out last night.

Now listen to me, friends, blogging sucks. Don't do it any more. Writing about your life after it happens does not enhance the experience, it diminishes it. Just think and feel and live without trying to transcribe it all into words that will impress other people. All those times you wish you had your camera with you, you should have let the image imprint on your mind instead, because the moment will always mean more to you than it would to anyone else. If you want to know what's going on in someone else's life, just be friends with them and be a part of their life. Otherwise you don't really need to know. May I suggest that providing others with the vicarious details of your life keeps them from living the ones they've got? I don't even care to know who reads this (though there is still that little part of me that makes me come back here to see if anyone has commented), but I feel obligated to write anyway. But really, why should you open part of your mind to someone when you are not ready to share the whole thing?

Hey, while I was driving the tractor back and forth, endeavoring to sew every spot approximately once with Roundup-ready seed, I thought up a couple of jokes:

Q: what's worse than finding a worm in your apple?

A: Not having an apple at all.

Joke Number 2!
A pirate walks into a bar with a car's steering wheel sticking out of the front of his pantaloons. The bartender says, "Hey, buddy, what's with the steering wheel?"

To which the pirate replies,

"Yarr, it be somebody's idea of a joke."

Mildly entertaining stories of little importance

2005-05-19T17:44:00.000-04:00

So the other day I put something in the microwave and I punched in the time and was about to push START when my mom came in. She looked at the microwave, and I looked at her, and we just stood there for a LONG time. She was waiting for me to start the microwave so the light would come on and she could see what was I was cooking. My finger still hovering over the button, I said, "You really want to know what's in here, don't you?"

She reached over and hit START, then looked in. Satisfied in knowing that I was heating up half an apple turnover, she went on with what she was doing.

Such is what happens when the overly nosy meets the needlessly secretive.

HILARIOUS LINK OF THE DAY

2005-05-06T19:38:00.000-04:00

I LMAO'd.

Literature time

2005-05-02T15:41:00.000-04:00

Each evening he walked the two miles from the quarry to the little town where the workers lived. The earth of the woods he crossed was soft and warm under his feet; it was strange, after a day spent on the granite ridges; he smiled as at a new pleasure, each evening, and looked down to watch his feet crushing a surface that responded, gave way and conceded faint prints to he left behind.

There was a bathroom in the garret of the house where he roomed; the paint had peeled off the floor long ago and the naked boards were gray-white. He lay in the tub for a long time and let the cool water soak the stone dust out of his skin. He let his head hang hack, on the edge of the tub, his eyes closed. The greatness of the weariness was its own relief: it allowed no Sensation but the slow pleasure of the tension leaving his muscles.

He ate his dinner in a kitchen, with other quarry workers. He sat alone at a table in a corner; the fumes of the grease, crackling eternally on the vast gas range, hid the rest of the room in a sticky haze. He ate little. He drank a great deal of water; the cold, glittering liquid in a clean glass was intoxicating.

He slept in a small wooden cube under the roof. The hoards of the ceiling slanted down over his bed. When it rained, he could hear the burst of each drop against the roof, and it took an effort to realize why he did not feel the rain beating against his body.

Sometimes, after dinner, he would walk into the woods that began behind the house. He would stretch down on the ground, on his stomach, his elbows planted before him, his hands propping his chin, and he would watch the patterns of veins on the green blades of grass under his face; he would blow at them and watch the blades tremble then stop again. He would roll over on his back and lie still, feeling the warmth of the earth under him. Far above, the leaves were still green, but it was a thick, compressed green, as if the color were condensed in one last effort before the dusk coming to dissolve it. The leaves hung without motion against a sky of polished lemon yellow; its luminous pallor emphasized that its light was failing. He pressed his hips, his back into the earth under him; the earth resisted, hut it gave way; it was a silent victory; he felt a dim, sensuous pleasure in the muscles of his legs.

Sometimes, not often, he sat up and did not move for a long time; then he smiled, the slow smile of an executioner watching a victim. He thought of his days going by, of the buildings he could have been doing, should have been doing and, perhaps, never would be doing again. He watched the pain's unsummoned appearance with a cold, detached curiosity; he said to himself: Well, here it is again. He waited to see how long it would last. It gave him a strange, hard pleasure to watch his fight against it, and he could forget that it was his Own suffering; he could smile in contempt, not realizing that he smiled at his own agony. Such moments were rare. But when they came, he felt as he did in the quarry: that he had to drill through granite, that he had to drive a wedge and blast the thing within him which persisted in calling to his pity.

====================================================

She raised her head with a last spurt of rebellion.

"Don't you see what it is that I must understand? Why is it that I set out hinestly to do what I thought was right and it's making me rotten? I think it's probably because I'm vicious by nature and incapable of leading a good life. That seems to be the only explanation. But...but sometimes I think it doesn't make sense that a human being is completely sincere in good will and yet the good is not for him to achieve. I can't be as rotten as that. But...but I've given up everything, I have no selfish desire left, I have nothing of my own--and I'm miserable. And so are the other women like me. And I don't know a single selfless person in the world who's happy--except you."

She dropped her head and she did not raise it again; she seemed indifferent even to the answer she was seeking.

"Katie," he said softly, reproachfully, "Katie darling."

She waited silently.

"Do you really want me to tell you the answer?" She nodded. "Because, you know, you've given the answer yourself, in the things you said." She lifted her eyes blankly. "What have you been talking about? What have you been complaining about? About the fact that you are unhappy. About Katie Halsey and nothing else. It was the most egotistical speech I've ever heard in my life."

She blinked attentively, like a schoolchild disturbed by a difficult lesson.

"Don't you see how selfish you have been? You chose a noble career, not for the good you could accomplish, but for the personal happiness you expected to find in it."

"But I really wanted to help people."

"Because you thought you'd be good and virtuous doing it."

"Why--yes. Because I thought it was right. Is it vicious to want to do right?"

"Yes, if it's your chief concern. Don't you see how egotistical it is? To hell with everybody so long as I'm virtuous."

"But if you have no...no self-respect, how can you be anything?"

"Why must you be anything?"

She spread her hands out, bewildered.

"If your first concern is for what you are or think or feel or have or haven't got, you're still a common egotist."

"But I can't jump out of my own body."

"No. But you can jump out of your narrow soul."

"You mean, I must want to be unhappy?"

"No. You must stop wanting anything. You must forget how important Miss Catherine Halsey is. Because, you see, she isn't. Men are important only in relation to other men, in their useful-ness, in the service they render. Unless you understand that completely, you can expect nothing but one form of misery or another. Why make such a cosmic tragedy out of the fact that you've found yourself feeling cruel toward people? So what? It's just growing pains. One can't jump from a state of animal brutality into a state of spiritual living without certain transitions. And some of them may seem evil. A beautiful woman is usually a gawky adolescent first. All growth demands destruction. You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs. You must he willing to suffer, to be cruel, to be dishonest, to be unclean--anything, my dear, anything to kill the most stubborn of roots, the ego. And only when it is dead, when you care no longer, when you have lost your identity and forgotten the name of your soul--only then will you know the kind of happiness I spoke about, and the gates of spiritual grandeur will fall open before you."

"But, Uncle Ellsworth," she whispered, "when the gates fall open, who is it that's going to enter?"

He laughed aloud, crisply. It sounded like a laugh of appreciation. "My dear," he said, "I never thought you could surprise me."
=========================================================
From The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand

My dad calls me "honey"

2005-04-30T23:42:00.000-04:00

and today I made fun of him for it. He got defensive, but I don't mind it at all, really.

All this talk about graduation and futures almost makes me wish I'd done something with my life. Today I was watching this TV show about movies and TV from the '80s (which failed to illicit any nostalgia from me; I didn't watch too much TV in the '80s; I was too busy doing things like being born and going to bed at 9 o'clock because I was 7 years old). About the time my mom was coming home from work, the show mentioned "Indiana Jones", describing him as a "suave archaeologist". I commented aloud, "I want to be a suave archeologist."

To which mom replied, "You're already suave, now you need to go to school and become n archaeologist?"

What a great and not-so-subtle segway into the "what are you going to do with your life" discussion. I'm not suave, I'm the opposite of that. And I don't particularly want to be an archaeologist anyway. Earlier I had said I wanted to be a "teen heart-throb" but that's not happening either. If I really wanted to be an archaeologist I'd just go out and do it. The truth is I don't really want to "be" anything. Doesn't that imply that I'm not anything now? Why o why won't someone pay me just for being totally sweet? Cause I can do that.

Pixx0rz

2005-04-16T12:55:00.000-04:00

Biiiiicycle! Biiiiicycle!

i think its holding up the sky what do you think?

we are trespassing

someday this bridge will be broken up too

Seen today at two area pet stores

2005-04-15T16:06:00.000-04:00

A cage full of a colony of mice that looked like they were laquatious' relatives.

A little black crawdad(crawfish, crayfish) that had escaped from a ceramic castle and walked halfway across the store before being discovered by another patron.

A pool full of small Japanese koi that swarm around on top of each other to nibble at you when you stick your finger in the water. 3 for $25 but I might come back later and get some.

A little dog that barked and whined at everyone at the store from its cage. When I came over to say hello I noticed it was all wet, which made me feel really sorry for it.

A siamese kitten that was very friendly and handsome, but cost $230.

Less exotic kittens which looked rather frightened and unhappy. One of them hissed at me.

A cage full of parakeets who sat and chirped quietly to themselves until you moved, when they suddenly got quiet.

Ferret Daily Spritz
Baby Fresh Scent
"Keeps your ferret smelling clean and fresh"

gather around everyone, It's a post about pottery.

2005-04-14T01:13:00.000-04:00

Today I took some wet, lumpy clay out of the bucket I have in my back yard and worked it into a nice, useable plastic consistency. Kneading the clay like dough on a piece of plywood took me back to the old high school art class days. Half creative outlet, half downtime and break from "real classes", I always had at least one art class in my schedule. It's so sad how school districts cut art so quickly when faced with budget problems. I can't think of a better solution that keeps from hurting anyone, but I think art and music education is as important as English, if not more so.

I took a handful of my new clay and made a quick pinch pot*, eventually building it up into a little vase. I set it down, admired my almost-symmetrical handiwork, then smashed it (quickly, before I could fully resist the impulse) and put the clay back in with the rest. I think I'll wait a while before I actually start building anything. Clay is better when has had some time to age. This stuff from a hole in the ground still has a lot of rocks, soil and plant matter in it too, so I ought to refine it more.

Think of all I could create with God's gifts of the earth and my own two hands. As soon as I find a way to build a kiln in which to fire the clay, I can begin my new career as a potter.

*Pinch pots are easy. Roll some clay into a ball, hold it between your hands and push your thumb into the center of the ball. Rotate the ball as you pinch the wall of the pot between thumb and fingers. The clay will start to take on a bowl shape. Put both thumbs inside the bowl as soon as you have room to do so. Focus on getting the walls a consistent thickness, and keeping the bowl symmetrical. To make the pot bigger after the walls are thin enough, you can simply pinch bits of new clay onto the bowl's rim. You can make a vessel of any size and shape this way; just make sure to let the bottom of the pot dry a bit, so that it will support the weight without collapsing.

Did anyone find this helpful? I can go over slab and coil costruction too if there's a demand. I never did get the hang of throwing on a potter's wheel, though. There are all sorts of techniques with this medium: extrusion, molds, casting with slip, carving, and just about anything you can imagine doing with a bunch of mud.

Hiss (Sometimes it's hard to think up a title)

2005-04-08T01:57:00.000-04:00

I must be pretty bored to make a blog post just in order to link to some random picture featuring a cat and a lizard. However, you must admit it's a pretty cool picture. Though outmassed many times by his assailant, this brave creature manages to hiss and posture his(or maybe her i don't know let's not be saxist) way out of danger, only losing a bit of its tail. (this paragraph is a link. you must click on it.)

For Posterity

2005-04-07T13:22:00.001-04:00

Friday, April 1:
I don't remember how it started or whose idea it was. We had a campfire, we had a 24 pack of hotdogs, We had two determined contestants who claimed they had eaten dinner and were full. This is just one of those scenarios that springs fully formed into the mind of a young person with nothing better to do: Katie and Nick would have an eating contest.

Matt and Cromer started roasting dogs, four at a time. Katie started off fast, downing her first four well before Nick. There was no time limit, so he was free to take the slow and steady approach. Besides, Katie could never sustain such a pace for long, could she? It was decided that eleven dogs was the goal, 2 having already been eaten by noncontestants. The last dog was also to be eaten with a bun. Just because.

The weiners disappeared. A draw. All the available food was divided into half and bravely devoured. The party brainstormed, searching for a way to break the tie. A speed eating contest. Laps around the lake, a race across the lake. Punches to the stomach until, well, the inevitable. Edible reinforcements were called in, then cancelled. Concerned, we started to suggest to our dear friends that there was no dishonor in quitting, a draw being a most sensible decision in the circumstances. The two were in pain, but it soon came apparant that neither would admit defeat, nor would Katie accept a draw. The winner this night would be decided by knockout.

We put out the fire and moved the contest to an establishment loved, and yet feared by binge eaters everywhere.

TACO BELL.

Our tally so far?
11 hot dogs (last one with bun), 3 graham crackers, 4 marshmallows, 1 Sunny D, 7 saltine crackers, 1 can of Coke, 1 cookie. Each.

The Taco Bell trip was fueled by threats of massive burritos, but by our arrival it was apparant that the end was already in sight, so two soft tacos and two cups of water were ordered. Katie drained her water before Nick, as they set about joylessly eating. Katie VERY nearly lost it halfway through, but pulled it together. They finished. It was midnight, Taco Bell was closing, and we had to vacate.

We needed to end this. The endgame would be glasses of milk at ten paces (actually, no more than two paces from a large trash can). Again, Katie came out strong and emptied her glass while Nick was still contemplating his. They clinked glass number two together in a silent toast (to what? to stupidity, to stubbornness, to each other?) and drank. After it was finished, Nick told us that that was it; he wouldn't be able to take any more. Then, just to make it official, Nick's face got pale, his eyes wide, and out it all came. He puked. The man did a good job of hitting the trash can, I'll give him that. Relief.

One final gulp of milk, and Katie was the unquestionable victor. After celebrating, she then proceeded to the bathroom to rid herself of all she had worked so hard to consume. A bit of an anticlimax, I guess, but, she assured us, that was better than going to bed with a swollen, painful stomach.

I swear, Katie is so freaking hardcore, sometimes I just can't believe it. This girl rocks, and she did it all with a smile on her face. I have to hand it to Nick, as well. He went the distance, but in the end Katie's sheer tenacity and will won out.

Elapsed time: about two hours.
The final tally:
11 hot dogs (last one with bun), 3 graham crackers, 4 marshmallows, 1 Sunny D, 7 saltine crackers, 1 can of Coke, 1 cookie, 1 glass of water, 1 soft taco, 2 glasses of milk. Each.

Yeah, it was an incredibly stupid thing to do, but I almost wish I had done it. Could I have kept pace, kept it all down and won? There will be other nights, and other incredibly stupid things to do.

Posting, Settings, Template, View Blog / Create, Edit posts, Status.

2005-04-05T16:34:00.000-04:00

I wrote a kickin' rad blogpost about some cool stuff that happended on friday, but it is at my home on my compy, so you don't get to read it. It is so exciting and informative, I cannot wait for the day I put it up here.

Today I played in the mud on the pretense of doing actual constructive work in the backyard. I can now whole-heartedly recommend going outside, making some slippy clay, and covering your entire arms, shoulders and (optional) shins with it Also you should be sure to get some on your face. Then go wash it off and leave a big mess in the bathtub. Then go to the library and blogpost about it. Only then can one know what it is like to be me.

Offline

2005-03-31T17:02:00.000-05:00

Meh. My phone line has been on the fritz and barely works, which means my internet connection doesn't work. So the good news is, I'm more inaccessable than ever. Now my friends don't have to worry about accidentally calling me or seeing me online and reading my away message. So here I am at the library getting my website fix, and blogging, blogging. I really need to go ahead and call the cable company to order fast internet that actually works, but I keep putting it off. You know, the weather's starting to get nice. Maybe I should just wean myself off this habit, sell my computer, and go enjoy the great outdoors. Forever will I be a child of the land, shunning technology in favor of nature's gifts.

The Biggest Strawberry in the Entire World

2005-03-19T17:38:00.000-05:00

I'm scared of this thing. It's a monster. Normally I don't worry about genetically modified food, but this is just wrong. Strawberries are supposed to be small. This one is morbidly obese. See how the meaty berry part has grown AROUND the stem? That's not right. The ones we grow here in the garden are small, but they taste so much better. It's a travesty, that's what it is.

This rant on something nobody else cares about has been brought to you by the Citizens Against Freakin Huge Fruit awareness council.

Blog Entry

2005-03-19T03:00:00.000-05:00

(4 u sue, u axed 4 it.)(featuring spelling errors taht are intentionally left unfixes!!11@)

Tonite at teh cheeze party (which, parentheses, tedned to be more of a mouse party) i was looking at some of suzin's photos wherein a guy was singing into a microphone and I thougth, (I had this thought before but the picture brot the memory back):

What if there was a kind of an alien parasite that jumped down people's throaghts, and it was shaped a microphone? All those singers are just asking to be infested. It looks like they are trying to eat the microphone, or taking a big bite out of a black plasitc ice cream cone. This theory begs tjhe question, what's the life cycle of such a creature? Where does it stay after it gets in your mouth? Is something going to burst out of your chest like that thing in Alien? Maybe you start crapping out little baby microphones. Makes you think twice before you decide to be a singer or take the gang out for a rousing night of karaoeke. DOESN'T IT! IT'S ONE OF MY GREATEDST FEARS. AND NOW THAT IT'S IN YOUR PSYCHE, IT'S YOURS, TOO.

So like I said, this theory sprung from the dark EERIE recesses of my mind during THE CHEEZE PARTY, and I entertained notions of sharing with the group., however, nobody, no confidant was next to me to hear my confessions and rantings. So I kept shut. See this is why i say hanging with two or three people is more fun than being in a group. I can't very bloody wel stand up and say "May I have your attention everybody: wuldn't it be weird if microphones are trying to junp dwn everybodys' throaghts?" No sir/mamm. I haave no problem freaking out a couple of people at once, but not a whole room. Carl's crazyness is best administererd undiluted. take me straight, if you can handle it.

spacious accomodations, not much of a view. Pathogens welcome?

2005-02-26T20:03:00.000-05:00

This insidious rhinovirus has almost finished moving to my chest from my head, where it spent all day yesterday happily clogging up my nasal cavity. What's more fun, blowing your nose all day, or coughing all night?

JUST SETTLE DOWN AND GO TO SLEEP YOU LITTLE BASTARD

2005-02-24T14:05:00.000-05:00

Any one want a little white mouse?. Quashe, or, as I've been calling him lately, "you little bastard" has been a huge nuisance lately.

All freaking night he's making some kind of noise chewing on his box or banging something against the side of it until I start feeling violent--violent against a helpless tiny mouse. That's great.

So I made him a new home in a larger box (the same box that Suzin used to transfer him to me, and that, apparently, originally contained a parachute?) and still, all he does is try to escape. I dunno what's wrong with him.

So from time to time I let him run free around my room, but that makes me nervous because what if he starts chewing on stuff or I step on him or he gets away and I can't find him? Then I go to catch him again and he runs away.

And I'm feeling sick today. And because of this little bastard I'm not getting any sleep. I'm thinking maybe if he wants to run away so bad, maybe I should just let him.

I hope this blog doesn't turn into an all "me and my mouse" journal. Oh well, at least I'm actually posting.

<\3

2005-02-14T21:02:00.000-05:00

Happy "Mom Bought Me Chocolates" day!

I spent the day outside with a shotgun looking for flying babies carrying bow and arrows.

To everyone who reads this post, Please know that I love you.

Delayed Cognition

2005-02-12T22:29:00.000-05:00

It's almost a cliche: something happens to you and you immediately start thinking about the blog post you're going to make later. With me, I'll have an idea--deep, deep, down in my mind--and immediately make myself stop thinking about it, and try to file it in "ruminate later". Like a cow. But with thinking instead of chewing.

This is indicative of how I write. As I put down the words, I'm also refining the idea as I understand it. I think this has to do with my hatred for doing the same work twice. If it isn't a learning experience, I won't put in the effort. Once I've walked a particular mental path, why go back again?

This is probably why I often neglected to do writing assignments in school. Simple regurgitation of ideas doesn't do it for me. On essay tests I spend half the time just thinking about the subject, and half writing the actual essay. That's if I remember to keep my eye on the clock.

Maybe I value the thought process more than whatever wisdom it produces. The conclusion of my train of thought is often forgotten, and I find myself retracing my steps to find it again. This is why I think I should write more. If I record these crazy ideas, maybe they'll amount to something. At least, maybe I can have the rewarding experience of reading it later and seeing how wrong I was.

Sick Kitty

2005-02-12T17:38:00.000-05:00

I'm sad. Roger showed up today with blood on his nose. He's foaming at the mouth and breathing strangely, and when I picked him up, I noticed he's much lighter than normal. Come to think it, we haven't seen him for a few days. I don't know what to do! This sucks.

O Laquashe, you're my best friend.

2005-02-05T22:48:00.000-05:00

Who relies on me more than you?
Who else's life am I a bigger part of?
If I died tonight, who would suffer more?

You are always here when I want you, because I keep you in a cage.
You'll never leave and have adventures on your own.
I don't feel bad, though,
because if I let you go, you wouldn't survive.
So you belong to me.

And I belong to you:
I provide you with all the fresh food, water, and bedding you need.
I protect you from Roger, and from Momma Cat, and from all harm.
All I want is for you to be happy.
A sunflower seed is all it takes.
So honest and so simple. So easy.
And yet,
Are you aware of what I do for you?
Do you even know that I exist?
Is your tiny mind capable of caring?
You'll never do a thing for me.
It doesn't matter.
You're my best friend.

Muchos Anteojos

2005-02-03T20:19:00.000-05:00

I tried these on,

And I thought these looked pretty cool,

But I decided to get these:

I don't have a life to write about

2005-01-26T23:00:00.001-05:00

So I'll start posting my pictures.

W(TF)

2005-01-21T00:08:00.000-05:00

It started innocently enough (I'm cutting stuff out, so if you want to see everything, go visit adelaide)

George W. Bush is a stud.
posted by The Dignal at 9:33 AM

Textual Harassment said...
If you mean he's dumb as a 2x4, THEN I AGREE.

I'm so clever.
4:36 PM

Yeah, it was a bad pun, and a Molotov cocktail of a blog reply. I probably shouldn't have posted it, given Dignal's tendency to delete things from her blog. She seems to want to keep it friendly over there, and I should have respected that.

But I don't understand why someone would have such fandom or reverence for a government worker. He's an executive. He's not a king. He's not a god. He's not the human embodiment of the spirit of the United States. The president just gets to be a celebrity just because he's a visible powerful person with an important job. I can hate him as easily as you can love him, and with as much validity.

The Dignal Said(in part)...
I disagree with your statement. Not only do I not appreciate, but I do not tolertate what you have to say about our President. I thank God in Heaven I can place my trust and confidence in the fruits of the Oval Office for this simple reason: George W. Bush walks in the Spirit.

**removed supporting arguments that the reader can see at the above link**

In short, Dignal didn't like my little jab. If she finds it intolerable, she can delete it from her webspace. Luckily I have my own and I'll gladly serve as a lightning rod for any more flames.

Textual Harassment said...
Well, I thought it was funny. Non-PC and completely uncalled-for, but funny.

**removed stuff that didn't need to be said in the first place but is still true**

It's OK if Bush is not a smooth talker, or if he has trouble pronouncing some words. He's only a man, and for that reason he can even be forgiven for whatever mistakes he makes in office. I could never be the president. I'm too honest. Even if somehow I did get elected, I'd screw something up.

But I look into his face when I see him on television and I can't stand it. I want to be able to tell whether he is good or bad, or genuine or fake, and I can't because I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING THERE behind his eyes and grinning face. I have the feeling that if I met him in person he'd have nothing important to say to me, and I'd despise him. I suspect he's an idiot, but one with good intentions.
6:48 PM

Anonymous said...
Textual Harassment, I do not know you, nor do I wish to. However, I guess everyone is entitled to there own opinion, no matter how arrogant they may be, and judging by your previous remarks, arrogant would be an understatement. Your comments and views from what you have written, have no substantial reasoning behind them. I mean what kind of reason for not approving of George Bush is this; "I want to be able to tell whether he is good or bad, or genuine or fake, and I can't because I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING THERE behind his eyes and grinning face." If you want to express yourself, and your disaprovel of the President, then by all means go ahead and do so, that is what FREEDOM is all about. I just want to encourage you, my friend, next time you want to say something, be sure to have some type of reasonable support to back up your claim, otherwise you're just blowing air out of your butt, and we all know how that smells!

Ah, an unsubstantiated opinion about my unsubstantiated opinion. It took some restraint to keep from responding, but this bothered me. I kept thinking up snappy retorts to give to anonymous, who either: 1. left and never came back, or 2. is still waiting to flame me more when I reply. He's right. I am a very arrogant person. Anybody who knows me will tell you that. Does everyone know the one about how fighting on the internet is like running in the Special Olympics?

I don't know when it became unacceptable to simply dislike someone without some kind of hard evidence. When I write something like the above, very often I'm exploring the issue in my mind for the first time. Sometimes it comes out wrong, but when my mind is in such an open and honest state, I make no apologies for what I may say. I really am simply attempting to figure out what I have against Bush. I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything.

Lost

2005-01-20T19:49:00.000-05:00

I lost my glasses in the snow while walking outside today. I retraced my steps twice (the one thing that's made easier by snow) and couldn't find them. And by the time I gave up and went inside my footprints were already being covered up by the wind.

So sad. Maybe an archeologist will find my glasses in the future and be able to deduce the shape of my eyes from the prescription. When I die I'll try to be buried on this property, so maybe he can match them to my skull. Am I thinking ahead too much?

I needed new glasses anyway. Right now I'm wearing my old, old glasses. Gonna have to hurry up and pick out some new frames. Meh. I hate looking for eyeglass frames. It's hard to see what I look like when I'm wearing fake glasses. Plus, I don't really enjoy looking at myself in a mirror that much. After a few minutes every pair looks the same. It's times like this when I need a girlfriend. Someone just to go with me and tell me what I like.

Some stuff I learned tonight

2005-01-11T21:23:00.000-05:00

Rodents aren't really into making out, especially on camera.
It takes a while to get a good picture of yourself in bad light along with someone else who won't hold still and a camera that takes forever to focus.
Just because an internet girl tells you to do something and take a picture of it, it doesn't mean you have to.

On Gay Marriage

2004-11-06T01:12:00.000-05:00

(Wrote this on a message board. turned out pretty funy. now you get to read it)

It's like if you like waffles but not pancakes. You didn't choose one day to like waffles better, you just like them. Now, I don't have a problem what kind of breakfast pastry you eat. Some people like one, some like the other, some like both. I bet some sickos even have both at the same time with strawberries and whipped cream. It's your right and what you do at your table is your own business.

However, if you go to someone's house and they don't have a waffle iron, you're out of luck. It's pancakes or nothing. You can moan all you want about your breakfast orientation and discrimination, but what do you expect them to do, go out and buy a waffle iron just for you? Just have some sausage and some toast and be happy.

Here's a flower

2004-11-04T22:07:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I'm doing photos here, too. Click it.

2004-11-04T21:32:00.000-05:00

Why does it seem that people know me more than I know them? It's so awkward when someone acts like they know me, and I have no idea who this person is or why they're suddenly my friend. It's like being a celebrity or something.

This story is not really one of those times, but it's related. I guess that makes the previous paragraph a poor introduction. All will be explained; Keep reading. I'll edit this before I post it and it will make sense, I swear.

I was at the mall in Kokomo today, and I walked into Hot Topic, and looked at all the edgy teen clothing I would never have had the courage or the cash to wear.

Sales Girl:
"how are you today?"
Me:
"Good/fine/customary semi-friendly mumbling"
"Hey, did you go to IWU?"
"Uh, yeah"
"We were in orientation and some computer class together. Carl?"
"Lindsay, right?"
"Yeah, do you still go there?"
(Insert short meaningless conversation, though we shared a spirited high-five for both being IWU dropouts)

The extent of our prior relationship goes like this: We were in a group of around ten people at IWU's freshman orientation, and we were in a class together. I think I talked to her on the way to chapel once. Later, I was bored one night and playing around with the school's computer network. I printed my phone number on someone's printer. It turned out to be hers. She called, we reminded each other who we were, and, I guess, talked a little bit. I certainly wouldn't have counted her among my friends.

Now, obviously I remembered this girl perfectly well, but I don't think I would have recognized her If she hadn't talked to me first. Why do people I barely knew two years ago recognize me today? Theories abound.

Lindsay looked exactly like a Hot Topic sales girl should look: funky black clothes and hair, a couple of lip piercings. You wouldn't peg her for an IWU student. She seemed a bit thinner than I remembered. Me, I never change. Same glasses, same hair (hard to change it when you have none), some days, even the same clothes. That's why I was at the mall, after all.

Do I leave an indelible impression on the people I meet? I know I'm striking, brilliant and witty, and those who have the honor of meeting me know what a once in a lifetime experience it is. No, that's not it. It's probably because I'm so funny looking. And to be honest, you humans, you all look alike to me.

Or do people just go around recognizing people all the time, and I'm the exception? The crippled social part of my brain displaces unimportant things like people's names in favor of trivia from 'Jeopardy', and I end up scrambling, doing secret detective work to find out something I should have asked for in the first place but now it's too late... I hope it doesn't make me look like an ass.

Perhaps it's context. How unlikely that we'd meet in small christian college, then meet again the next town over, me cleaning strangers' crap out of a corporation's cars, her selling mass-produced counter culture to high school kids less than a mile away. I think I can be excused for not expecting to meet this particular individual. Why, only moments before, I was thinking about how there was probably no one in this mall that I knew. Ever see someone you know in a completely different setting than you are accustomed to? It can be a shock.

I leave you with lyrics from the new Green Day album, American Idiot, which is really good and which you should go out and buy.

Thought I ran into you down on the street
Then it turned out to only be a dream
I made a point to burn all of the photographs
She went away and then I took a different path
I remember the face but I can't recall the name
Now I wonder how whatsername has been

Seems that she disappeared without a trace
Did she ever marry old whatsisface?
I made a point to burn all of the photographs
She went away and then I took a different path
I remember the face but I can't recall the name
Now I wonder how whatsername has been