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Linklog may
8, 2008 april
19, 2008 april
11, 2008 also, the catcam, which i may have mentioned before, is now for sale! (time lapse vid link stolen from db). . . april
9, 2008 april
8, 2008 march
26, 2008 march
25, 2008 december
31, 2007 for example i went from a chick surprised by the kick of a desert eagle to this prank vid to this vid of a baby giving the evil eye to this barf bag in free fall vid to this commercial spoofing vid memes to the david blaine street magic parts 1, 2, and 3. . . december
30, 2007 december
24, 2007
september
18, 2007 august
28, 2007 august
27, 2007 august
21, 2007 august
17, 2007 august
3, 2007 july
23, 2007 july
14, 2007 and as long as i'm talking about the telly savalas, i'm kinda digging on 30 rock as well and the cool thing about that show is that nbc has posted full episodes of the entire season online (flight info stolen from moxie). .. june
23, 2007 june
21, 2007 june
15, 2007 and speaking of circle jerk blogrolls, one of my friends from college recently started up a photography blog and linked to my ass, so i stuck his ass in the "photography" section over there to the left. . . is it a good photography blog?. . . fuck if i know, but that seemed like as good a place as any to dump the link. . . may
29, 2007 may
25, 2007 may
14, 2007 may
9, 2007 may
1, 2007 april
28, 2007 april
3, 2007 march
21, 2007 march
17, 2007 march
16, 2007 march
13, 2007 march
10, 2007 march
9, 2007 march
7, 2007 march
6, 2007 march
1, 2007 february
24, 2007 february
21, 2007 february
16, 2007 february
9, 2007 february
8, 2007 february
7, 2007 february
6, 2007 if you're not a major big-time nerd like me, maybe you'll find some entertainment in shadow puppets instead. . . february
5, 2007 january
30, 2007 january
29, 2007 january
22, 2007 december
24, 2006 december
18, 2006 december
12, 2006 december
9, 2006 december
1, 2006 november
27, 2006 november
8, 2006 november
2, 2006 october
24, 2006 october
23, 2006 october
20, 2006 october
19, 2006 october
18, 2006 october
17, 2006 october
13, 2006 october
11, 2006 october
8, 2006 october
2, 2006 october
1, 2006
Linklog
Archives |
Travelog A
bit before your time I'm
just mentioning this little corner of my subconscious thoughts 'cuz I
hear dreams are prescient, so if at some point in the next few months
there's a resurgence of interest in Paul Anka's music, you all can be
on the forefront. In
the movie it wasn't a problem One recurring theme that to this day still makes me laugh is when I think about the Highlander tv series and how they decided to have the police be involved with each beheading, and have the highlander be, if not a suspect, at the very least a "person of interest". I mean, think about it. A tv show has about 20 episodes in a season, so that's at *least* 20 decapitated bodies per year. That's 20+ strangers from around the world getting their heads lopped off, and having each death have some sort of link to the main character. 20 headless bodies per year, not always in the same city, but always in an area where the highlander, a dude being suspected by the police, was hanging out. What was
the writer's logic in thinking that would be a sustainable plot device? Sing-along
with Bob Denver At one point, maybe in an effort to get the little kid to open up, T asked her if she wanted to sing a song. "Come on, it'll be fun!" T exclaimed in a blatant lie to the little girl. "..." S replied as she glanced cautiously my way, mouth sort of half-open. "Here, I'll start, okay hon?" T prodded. "..." "Juuuust sit right back and you'll hear a tale..." "..." "A tale of a fateful trip..." "..." "That started from this tropic port, c'mon S what's the next line?" T asked. "Aboard this tiny ship." "Yaaaay!" T applauded. I broke in, "Wait, is that. . . uh. . . she knows the theme song for Gilligan's Island?" "Yeah, I think she's just shy 'cuz normally she'll sing the whole song." "Does she watch an assl- sorry, I mean does she watch a lot of TV or something?" "No
no, it's just that F and I, well, we don't really remember those other
songs like 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' so we teach her the songs that we *do*
know. Which tend to be TV theme songs for shows like Gilligan's Island,
The Beverly Hillbillies, and Spiderman." The
Urinal Chalkboard 1. the wall right above the urinal. 2. the flushing mechanism. 3. your sausage. 4. the urinal cake and/or the drain. The experience is generally pretty similar whether you're in some posh 4-star hotel or some sketchy-ass bus station, so when there's a difference (like someone standing next to you who's farting uncontrollably), it can make for a notable urinatorial event. Take, for example, tonight at the diner where there was a small crooked chalkboard mounted on the wall above the urinal. Note that there was nothing written on the chalkboard, there was no chalk at the base of the chalkboard, and there were no notices around the chalkboard. It was just a blank chalkboard, skewed about 10 degrees counterclockwise, with a bit of chalk dust at the base. Intrigued, when I came out of the bathroom I looked for a waitress and asked her, "Why is there a, uh, a chalkboard over the urinal in the bathroom?" "A what?" she replied. "A chalkboard. A small chalkboard mounted on the wall directly above the urinal. There's nothing on it, there's no chalk to write with, it's just a small blank chalkboard. I was curious as to, y'know, what it was for." "A *what*!?" she exclaimed as though I'd asked her why someone had filled the bathroom sink with dog shit. She sounded
so shocked I decided to bail. Problem is, I *still* don't know what the
fuck the chalkboard was for. Tax
Season * Researched fast dslr lenses. * Carried a heavy-ass tripod for a documentary crew filming a german lesbian techno pop band visiting the US for a week. * Walked a few miles to get a slice of pizza from a really good pizzeria. * Volunteered to work with an at-risk youth program. * Regretted volunteering to work with an at-risk youth program. * Gone to work, ate a bunch of brownies, watched some youtube, had a sugar crash, slept for a few hours, watched some more youtube, and went home without having done a single mouse click of work. * Watched a series of videos of people watching a video of two girls pouring things into a cup. * Watched a lot of Deadwood, BSG, Arrested Development, MacGyver, SG-1, Veronica Mars, Daily Show, and Colbert Report. * Thought about getting a haircut. * Went to chinatown to buy a tiara. * Discussed how even an eight-year-old would know that old-school bathroom sinks with separate hot and cold water spigots was extremely retarded. * Assured outgoing boss that I'd definitely look her up if I ever found myself in New York, fully knowing that I would never actually look her up if I ever found myself in New York. * Discovered incoming boss has a blog. * Read a blog that appears to exist for the sole purpose that I ridicule it. * Released
a turd that was about 2 feet long and wondered how far back the muscles
that squeezed out a dook started. Pillow
Fight Club 3 If you have no life and want to check it out, there are three ways you can do it: 1. Go to my vimeo page to watch it in HD and/or download the vid (the download link is in the lower right area of the vimeo page). 2. watch
this little vimeo embedded version: 3. Watch
it on my sloooooow-ass server here
(this is probably the worst option of the three 'cuz the files are kind
of large and my server is butt slow). Happy
Fun Time Jury Duty $15 a day. They pay you fifteen fucking dollars a day. Plus, in my case, an additional $4 per day for mileage. Four fucking dollars! What the fuck is up with that? It cost me more than $6 to get to that damn courthouse via public transportation! So, yeah, I was torn 'cuz it wasn't like I had much else to do at the time, yet they were only giving me $19/day to go there, plus the judge said the case might last for up to two months - three facts that made my answers to the 30-page juror-selection questionnaire kind of interesting. For instance, one of the questions was, "What, if any, opinions do you have of the lawyers in this case?" The practical side of me that understood how financially painful it is to be stuck on a jury wrote, "That one smarmy-ass dude who's been speaking on behalf of the defense team could stand to ease up on the brylcream 'cuz he's totally coming across as a fucking ambulance chaser." But then the side of me that kind of wanted to be on the jury would add, "But then again, I have a few friends who are lawyers and I understand that they generally have condescending, dismissive, and/or sleazy personalities. Or at least the good ones do." And then there was the question, "What, if any, opinions do you have regarding this case?" The practical side of me wrote, "This case is stupid. And just to clarify, in this particular instance when I say 'stupid' I mean 'fucking retarded'. It's pretty obvious the plaintiffs didn't read the contract before they signed it and apparently it's not enough that they want to screw the defendants over and get their money back, they also want to screw all us jurors over by forcing us to leave our jobs for up to *two* *freaking* *months* to cover *their* asses for a mistake *they* made and are too fucking whiny and self-entitled to think of anyone other than their stupid asses. And again, just to clarify, when I say 'stupid' I mean 'fucking retarded'. Sure us jurors get a daily stipend but shit, the fucking mileage portion doesn't even fucking cover using fucking public transportation to get to this fucking courthouse!" But then
the dumbass "it might be kinda fun to be on a jury!" half of
me backtracked a bit by adding, "But then again I've seen the defendant's
ads on tv and don't have the highest opinion of them. If the plaintiff's
lawyers can show me that they are, in fact, the sleazeballs that I think
they are, I wouldn't mind siding with them by submitting a verdict according
to my conscience instead of following the letter of the law, as is my
right as a juror." People
Who Annoy Me Y'see, when I go to the movies I like to sit in one of the front five rows 'cuz most people don't like sitting that close to the screen and, consequently,: a) there are less likely to be distracting people around and b) I get to avoid having passive-aggressive battles for the armrest. So, yeah, I'm sitting there in the theater, three empty rows in front, two empty rows behind, and other than me, nobody in my row, when some guy wanders in just before this *3.5-hour* epic movie starts and sits down right the fuck next to me. What the fuck? And it wasn't just any guy, it was a smelly, crazy dude who, as I found out two minutes in, likes to talk during movies and has an annoying tendency to laugh at things and look to his neighbor for affirmation or something. During the intermission I shot an sms to hottie yoga chick bitching about this guy when she asked the obvious - "Why didn't you just move?" The problem, y'see, is that I have this thing where whenever i'm in public and some smelly crazy person sits next to me on a bus or something, i don't like to just get up and move right away 'cuz it seems like that would be rude - sometimes they can't help it. I mean yeah, I'll be irritated that they chose to sit next to me, but normally I'll just sit there and pretend they're like anyone else. It's kinda like that thing Elaine mentioned in an episode of Seinfeld: ELAINE: I'm not a terrible person. JERRY: No... ELAINE: No, when I shoo squirrels away, I always say, "Get out of here." I never ever throw things at them and try to injure them like other people. JERRY: That's nice. ELAINE: Yeah, and when I see freaks in the street, I never ever stare at them, and yet I'm careful not to look away, see, because I want to make the freaks feel comfortable. JERRY: That's nice for the freaks. So yes, i'm like Elaine. Except i tend to say "crazy smelly people" instead of "freaks," neither of which, i suppose, are particularly p.c. And actually,
had it been a more normal person who'd chosen to ignore the empty rows
in front of and behind me, as well as all the empty seats to my left and
right, i probably *would* have gotten up and moved. Movie
Review: Ben Hur One thing that Python fans should be aware of if they ever go see this movie is how all throughout you'll sit there and keep seeing bits that'll remind you of "Life of Brian" - especially that scene with jebus giving his sermon on the mount. I kept waiting for someone in the fringes of the crowd to ask, "What was that?" and then have someone reply, "I think it was 'blessed are the cheesemakers'." "What's so special about the cheesemakers?" "Obviously it wasn't supposed to be taken literally - it refers to any manufacturers of dairy products." and then have the scene end with a couple of people bail to go check out that day's stoning. One other observation I had at this screening of Ben Hur occurred when they had an on-stage interview with the daughter of the person who wrote the musical score. All throughout this interview I couldn't help but think, "Who gives a shit what the dude's *daughter* has to say?" Oh, and in
case you were wondering, the movie was, "meh." Food
Lodge Occasionally while perusing other people's comment walls, however, I'd come across a tasty little nugget, like this one from G to J: "J, I still entertain people with stories from Cazadero featuring YOU! Do you remember doing the whole alphabet in burps? Unfortunately, that one didn't end well." Intrigued, and since i don't recall ever interacting with J other than the time my face ran into her foot in the fourth grade, I left this comment on G's page: "wait, i have to ask, you mentioned on J's page that she burped the alphabet and that it didn't end well. . . so, uh, how did it end?. . . i can only think of one projectile-ish way. . ." To which G replied: "Here's how it ended: J burped the alphabet, we were all in awe, then she threw up, some of the vomit became lodged in her glued-in retainer, unreachable by toothbrush, and we had another week or so of camp left." I swear that's
one of the best puking stories I've ever heard. It kind of reminded me
of the time i puked and got some onion stuck in the back of my nose between
the nostrils and couldn't get it out for *days* 'cuz blowing my nose just
pressed it down harder. Things
I've done and things to do Here are various reasons that people at work have scheduled meetings with me over the past month despite my repeated attempts to convince them that we did not, in fact, need to have "a meeting" in their office or a conference room, and that they could just email me or dump the shit in my chair: * to give me five self-explanatory drawings * to give me a sheet with the sole markup being a word that was crossed out * to give me a huge stack of markups so extensive that it would've taken forever to fax over, that was, in fact a huge stack that would've taken forever to fax over, only in that entire stack there was only one page with a markup - the deletion of one box on an org chart with five boxes * to read me an email, word for word, that I'd previously asked him to just forward to my ass * to ask me a question in which the answer was "October 31st" * to ask me to email him a presentation Another thing I've done over the past month was a bit of work for that aerial dance troupe I do shit for once in a while - posters, a video montage, programs, that kind of crap. If you give a hoot and live in or around Berkeley, they've got a performance going on tonight (October 31, 2007), and on Friday and Saturday (November 2 & 3, 2007). Here's the
poster I whipped out - it has a bit more information if you're interested
in checking out the performance: and here's
a link to a quick and dirty video montage I slapped together of a
rehearsal they had a few weeks ago. Keep
in mind that their dances and costumes have gone through some big changes
since said rehearsal. Holy
footwear The other day while eating a few cupcakes at the local mall's food court (the Bloomingdale's side, not the ghetto Nordstom's side), I noticed that the hole in my shoe finally went through the insole straight to the sock. Not wanting my Smartwool to get fucked up, I grabbed a newspaper someone had left behind, tore out a chunk in the shape of my foot, and inserted it into my shoe. When I looked up and saw several people staring at me I realized that: a) I hadn't shaved in a couple of weeks, b) my bag is all torn up and ratty looking, and, c) I'd just come off of an all-nighter at work and looked and smelled a little ripe. Now, a thru c on their own probably wouldn't have garnered a second glance, but when I did that newspaper-in-a-shoe bit I realized that I must have *totally* looked like a homeless dude. Or at least a homeless dude who had four cupcakes, a hot chocolate, and a book on advanced color-correction techniques sitting in front of him. I'm like
an enigma wrapped in a mystery surrounded by a pair of ducks with a creamy
riddle filling. The
man in black Like I did yesterday. The interesting thing about black pants is that if you're not used to wearing 'em, it's possible to have sort of a fashion-don't day. Like I did yesterday. Y'see, it wasn't 'til I was out and about downtown and I glanced at my reflection in a storefront window, that I realized I also wore a black t-shirt. And coupled with my black tennis shoes, black hair, black skateboard, and black messenger bag, I also realized that I'd inadvertently made some sort of fashion statement. Not a "I'm a goth" or "I'm a metalhead" or "I'm a hipster doofus" or "I'm a ninja" fashion statement, but something more, well, what's the phrase I'm looking for? I guess something more along the lines of "hey, look at me, I'm a fucking idiot!" fashion statement. I mean the black gap khakis were basically brand new, the t-shirt was some schwag I'd scored from a computer convention, I mean really, I just looked like some fat asian dude who, for some fucked-up reason, thought it wouldn't look completely retarded to step out of the house dressed head to toe in black while carrying a black bag and a black skateboard. Or, to be
more accurate, I looked like someone who thought that he wouldn't look
completely retarded, and was wrong. In
the end it always comes back to the potty humor "Headin' to the bar?" one of 'em asked as I stood up to go to the bathroom. "Nah, I gotta go drop the kids off at the pool," I replied. "What? I didn't know you had kids!" he exclaimed. "Ummn, yeeeaaah, I, uh, I don't. And even if I did, it's after midnight, why would I be taking my fucking kids to the pool in the middle of the night?" "What? But you just said..." "I gotta go drop a few pounds." "Huh?" "Go prairie doggin'? Put my thoughts down on paper?" "?" "Number 2. I've gotta go take a dump." "Ahhhhh, got it." A bit later
it was also apparent that he wasn't used to people raising their fists
and encouragingly shouting out to him, "Eye of the tiger, man! Eye
of the tiger!" while he's walking towards a public bathroom. Teaser
trailers "Are you offering to be nice or 'cuz my breath stinks?" I asked. "To be nice - your breath's fine," she replied. "Oh, okay, then in that case no thanks. I, uh, I kinda had a bad experience with gum when I was hanging out in Venice." She looked at me for a few seconds before saying, "That has to be one of the most intriguing things you've ever said to me." "No wait, not Venice, that other one, with the nazis." "What?" "Uhhhh. . . Vienna!. Yeah, Vienna - I had a bad experience with gum in Vienna!" "Okay, well, Venice, Vienna, still intriguing." "Oh, well shit, you think *that's* intriguing - y'know hottie yoga chick?" "Yeah?" "Well,
*she* had a bad experience with an albatross while cycling to work on
Midway island." A
typical email exchange with me ----(J's email start)----- Whoa, somehow a week has passed since you asked this question so I'm not sure if you give a shit about my response, but here goes: A couple means 2 and no other number. A few means 3, although I don't mind getting 4 cookies when I ask for a few. And several
means anything from 4-9. Somehow, the double-digits like 10 sound like
too many. Sorry, just had to give a range there. ----(J's email end)----- Her wheat thins comment was in regards to this email I'd also sent: ----(my email start)----- So last nite I was all, "Hmmmnn, y'know what would be a tasty snack to complement my new plastic cup that replaced the one that some coworker who shall remain nameless but has the initials "<insert L's full name here>" had thrown away? Some wheat thins!" So I then went to the snack drawer and grabbed the box only to see that while the bag had been opened, it was sans a binder clip - instead it was semi-curled up in a sort of half-hearted, some might say "half-assed", attempt at keeping the stale stewies away. Now I'm not the type to place blame and point fingers so the suspect shall remain nameless, although I feel that I would be remiss if I weren't to offhandedly mention that her initials are "<insert L's full name here>." It's actually kind of a shame that I'm not the confrontational type as otherwise i might educate said initialed person that back in the 1800s during ireland's potato famine, they would've killed to have been able to eat crispy wheat thins that were in properly binder-clipped plastic bags rather than those mounds of stale wheat thins that they carelessly left in open burlap sacks. I wonder if my cup is still on my desk. ----(my email end)----- . . . anyway, L replied to J's email with: ----(L's email start)----- You guys are crazy! Several technically means 3 or more. Or something silly like "more than two," b looked it up. On that note, however, there are plenty of people who think like J... Last night I had dinner and cocktails with a friend and when I came home I was exhausted. I told H I had a few drinks (people, "a few" means two, which is exactly the number of drinks that I had), and H goes, "Really? You had three drinks!" NOOOOOOOOOOO! How have y'all been trained so poorly...is it Berkeley?? ----(L's email end)----- to which the other coworker replied: ----(J's email start)----- Wow, you were just one away from having "several" drinks. Sounds like quite a lot. ----(J's email end)----- and so, if you're still with me and this long-ass post, i replied to both of them with: ----(my email start)----- See, this is similar to when that lady drove down the railroad tracks 'cuz her car's navigation system was telling her to. Sometimes you have to realize that your reference guide (or in this case two physical and three online dictionaries) is giving you bad information. As a famous poet way before your time once said, "cool is a rule, but sometimes bad is bad." I think the key lesson for you to learn from this discussion other than the fact that: * "a couple" means two * "a few" means three, possibly four, but definitely not two 'cuz that belongs to "a couple" * "several" means five, *maybe* six, four if someone's feeling stingy, seven is really pushing it, eight is right out, if you want nine of something you might as well as for ten, and three, well, duh, if you wanted three of something you'd ask for a few But yeah, I think the key lesson here is that you should always listen and defer to your elders. I mean think about it - if you start allowing words to share definitions with each other, well, that leads to bewilderment, perplexity, and confusion, all of which lead to fear, and as a great warrior once said while in hiding in the dagobah system, "fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suf-fer-ing." And you know what *that* leads to? Unproperly closed boxes of wheat thins (yes, I used "unproperly" rather than "improperly" - I roll with Ralph Wiggums) - and once that happens the terrorists have already won. At this point I normally *would* be all like, "*face*!" but I'm much too mature and dignified to do something like that - especially after totally crushing you with my infallible vulcan-like logic. -b ps, oooh, *buurrrrnnn*!. . . pps, as opposed to the Hans Moleman "booouurns". . . ----(my email end)----- And that,
in a nutshell, is sort of what it's like to sit next to me at work. A
question What numbers do you think of when you say "a couple," "a few," and "several"? Note that I'm not looking for a range like, "A few is 2 to 3," 'cuz that'd be about as helpful as a glass of stale urine at your aunt Abigail's weekly golden shower party. No, I'm looking for something like, "To me, when I ask for several cookies I want about 73." In other words, you might think 72 or 74 would be acceptable, but 73 is the actual number you're thinking of. But
yeah, so, a couple, a few, and several - approximately what numbers do
they mean to you?. . .
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