hyphen-dash

Quote of the Day

2006-02-05T01:17:00.000-05:00

"Right. Sorry. What was I thinking? They have to be bright murderously livid colors of the insanity rainbow."

</laukaisyn>

Well, then.

2006-01-13T17:49:00.000-05:00

I really have to keep up on this.

I mean, okay. I had a good excuse to ignore you guys in December, when I was bogged down with finals, and I got saddled with group projects, and all...

But I'm not actually doing anything right now.

Seriously. I glued a bowl back together last night. That was the big event.

I mean, unless anyone wants to tell me how to get the blue Jinjo in Treasure Trove Cove.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2006-01-01T21:31:00.000-05:00

"Have as few rules as possible, and break them all whenever necessary."

</laukaisyn>

Part public service announcement, part well-wishing...

2005-12-31T23:58:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure how many of you believe this, but, well, this is how I look at the concept of New Years'.

How you spend the first day of the year is how you're going to spend the rest of the year, basically. So, hypothetically, if you have a shitty January first, you'll have a shitty 2006.

In other words, I'm advising the lot of you to go and spend your New Years' with people you care about. Family, friends -- whomever. Doesn't matter.

Have a happy, healthy, and blessed 2006, everybody.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-12-31T20:52:00.000-05:00

"Nabisco owns a third of the world."
"What?"
"Yeah. And they own part of Goodyear. That's how they got Bubbleyum."
"That's impossible! A Canadian company owns Bubbleyum."
"Well, yeah, but Nabisco owns Canada. And Yugoslavia."
"There is no more Yugoslavia."
"See? See?! They over-extended themselves."

</laukaisyn>

I like sequels. Honest.

2005-12-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

It's one thing when you have a dream annually, and, like, every year, it's a continuation of last year's dream.

I can cope with that.

But I keep having these dreams -- and they're all, for the most part, unrelated -- where I'm just wandering aimlessly alongside a highway. And it's always a different highway. And it always leads into a new adventure, because I keep taking new exits.

This morning, I found out where I was going. I'm heading south, apparently. Towards Virginia -- because, apparently, I'm in Maryland.

Yeah. I was wandering along a major road -- it wasn't a parkway or anything, because we all know pedestrains aren't allowed on those. It was just a major road. It lead me to another major road -- Kent Street, I think. Hanging over Kent Street was one of those huge green signs with the white letters. All it said was "3MSJ5". That's it. So I wandered off to the right -- away from 3MSJ5 -- and that took me in a loop, back to Kent Street, and back to the Sign.

I stared at the sign for a bit, before realizing, "Oh! It's the third Maryland State Junction, Number five." (Apparently, in this version of Maryland, there are three sets of Junctions, and this one is number five in the third set.)

So, I take 3MSJ5. And that leads me down to Luke street. And on Luke street, there is absolutely nothing, except for one apartment building.

It's one of those where the staircases are on the outside of the building, so I climb to the ninth floor (of the ten-story building) and decide that I'm going to break into this apartment.

So I do. Do you know why I broke in?

For mouthwash. Or, actually, I may have broken in for toothpaste, but, when I didn't find it, settled for mouthwash. Because I proceeded to pull a toothbrush out of my pocket, and brush my teeth with the mouthwash.

When I checked the front door, the woman who lived there was coming home, so I ran out the back door, and, for some reason, ran into the tenth-floor apartment. I ran through that one, out the front door, and then down all those flights of stairs. Somewhere along the way, I spit out the mouthwash, tapped my toothbrush on the railing, and slipped my toothbrush back into my pocket. (How I got it to fit in there, I'll never know).

And then, I got back on a highway, and started walking again. Walking south. "Toward Virginia."

(Oh, and, on a side note, for some reason, Maryland state license plates, in this dream, are a yellow-to-whtie gradient with black characters -- like New Jersey plates in real life -- and Virgina plates are white, with black characters -- like Marland license plates, without the state seal in the middle.)

</laukaisyn>

The Night Before a Politically Correct Midwinter Festival

2005-12-22T20:23:00.000-05:00

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck....
How to be in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves,"
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labor conditions at the North Pole
were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear,
that Santa had better not use just reindeer.

So Dancer, and Donner, Comet, and Cupid,
were replaced by four pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
the ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And the people had started to call for the cops,
when they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Second-hand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur-trimmed red suit was called "Unenlightened."
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolph was suing over unauthorized used of his nose
and had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
demanding millions in over-due compensation.

So, half the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
who suddenly said she'd had enough of this life,
joined a self-help group, packed and left in a whiz,
demanding from now on that her title was Ms.
As for the gifts, why, he'd never had a notion
that making a choice could cause such a commotion.

Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be considered to pollute.
Nothing to aim, nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored, or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Nothing for just boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike, or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.

No baseball, no footbal...someone could get hurt;
besides, playing sports exposes kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So, Santa just stood there, dishevled, perplexed;
he just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
but you've got to be careful with that word today.

His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
give to all without angering the left or the right.

A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
each group of people, every religion,
every ethnicity, every hue,
everyone, everywhere...even you.

So, here is that gift, it's price beyond worth....

"May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth."

</laukaisyn>

Christmas bells, those Christmas bells, ringing through the land, Asking peace of all the world, and Good will to man

2005-12-17T18:03:00.000-05:00

At any rate, I've come to another unsettling conclusion: It's not Chistmassy. (Yes, I know that "Christmassy" isn't a word, but go with me on this one.) Do you remember back when they actually used to hang Christmas lights and tinsel? And play Christmas Carols, rather than just "holiday tunes"? Do you remember when they used to have Christmas specials on TV?

I haven't heard any Christmas carols. If you go in the bookstore in the commons, they have some "holiday music", but no real Christmas carols. No Lights. No tinsel. No trees. No menorahs. No ACLU suing some town in Rhode Island or Conneticuit over a Nativity scene on the Courthouse lawn.

It's just not Christmassy.

</laukaisyn>

Thought for the day

2005-12-12T21:11:00.000-05:00

This is just a random thought:

In a proper place setting, where the forks are on the left, and the knife and spoon are on the right, where do you put the spork?

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-12-05T15:33:00.000-05:00

"They should make razors gas powered."
"They should make trees gas powered."
"No, wait, trees are already gas powered."

</laukaisyn>

There are some days that make me wonder why I'm a Social Science major.

2005-12-02T00:04:00.000-05:00

"That is so cool! You type things, and it appears on the screen!"

Okay. Just so everyone understands where I'm coming from on this...

My English class has 17 people in it. The Public Affairs Scholars. We're special. It's English 100P, Argumentative Writing. Most of the other people on campus think we're psychotic. Like, one day, we're going to have a heated discussion in English, that's going to turn into an Argument, that's going to end with someone killing someone else.

We're scary.

So, for our final project for the semester, we have to work in groups, to build a website.

About something.

Ideally, the Website invites the student
to translate language concepts--specifically to reinforce what you say by the way you say it.

to consistently apply critical thinking about issues of validity, credibility and authority in reference to ALL information you are asked to review.
to synthesize information into a context which will allow you to effect change in the world.

Anyway, they dragged us to a computer lab in the Engineering building today, so that we could start on them. It was a nice change from having the entire day in the Public Policy building.

I seemed to be the only one to know where the Engineering building was, let alone where the room was in the building.

So then, we start playing on the computers.

We were supposed to be researching.

When our group got bored, I opened up NotePad, and said, "okay, so, what do we want it to look like?"
"I dunno."
"Okay, pick a color."
"How about blue?"
"Okay."

So I type in the basic <head> tags, and our friend, the <body> tag.

We start to play.

I save it, and open it in explorer.

I start to play some more. Save in NotePad, Refresh in Explorer.

And one of my group members blurts out, "That is so cool! You type things, and it appears on the screen!". I was really tempted to say something along the lines of, "Well, yeah, that's how keyboards work," but I didn't.

So now I have a gray-and-blue borderless table thing, and the only text on it reads "The Value of Summer Programs in Education".

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-11-27T14:46:00.000-05:00

"In other news, I'm at Lehigh with what appears to be a hot girls convention, it's 3 AM, and I'm trashed beyond belief."

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-11-22T00:45:00.000-05:00

"What is that, like, the tofu replacement of pot? I wouldn't think they'd need to do that, since, y'know, pot's already a plant..."

</laukaisyn>

"Have a good year everyone. Make it count for something."

2005-11-21T18:23:00.000-05:00

Everyone always talks about time in the sense of periodic cycles.

Days, months, years.

It's always, "this year'll be different."

That's why we make New Years' Resolutions.

Every December 31, we promise ourselves that we're going to make the coming year count for something.

But, January 1 is a pretty arbitrary day.

I mean, for more than a thousand years, the year started on the 25th of March.

...So I have a proposition, for the dozen of you that actually read my blog. Well, actually, no. I don't. My brother, Mat, does.

Deployed as of November 21 2005
See you in one year.
And just to throw this in there.
Id like to go the whole year without hearing, Schlack, thump, bam, whistle, thoomp, sping, spang, wzzzt, pop, crash, splang, tang tang tang, or the ever ubiquitous... Click, while walking.

Have a good year everyone. Make it count for something.

Battle Dragon -

From today, until November 21, 2006. It's one year. It may seem pretty arbitrary, but, it's still a year.

One year, for you to make the best of.

</laukaisyn>

The photobloggy water fountain saga countinues!

2005-11-17T19:13:00.000-05:00

You've already seen the water fountain. The water fountain just down the hall from my door. This was my RA's response to the situation in the pictures you saw yesterday.

</laukaisyn>

Photobloggy!

2005-11-17T00:29:00.000-05:00

Could someone please tell me what you have to do to a water fountain to get it to do this?

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-11-14T20:36:00.000-05:00

"But fossil fuels make cars happy."

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-11-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

"Eat my Unununium."

</laukaisyn>

There are some things that you simply shouldn't broadcast over the internet.

2005-11-12T22:52:00.000-05:00

I know I've been ignoring you guys recently, and I'm sorry about that. I mean, if you like Sixty Percent, and The Dragon and the Goldfish, well, that's great.

But I haven't been that great about posting to hyphen-dash.

I don't really have that much to say.

I mean, I'll just sit here, and stare, blankly, at the screen, trying to think of something to post to hyphen-dash. That invariably leads to the next chapter of Sixty Percent, but, it's not like I can sit here and talk to you about stuff.

I mean, you really don't want to here about all the random shit on my desktop, do you?

Well, the background is black, and it has a lightbulb, with legs, and the words, "Begone. This is not for your brains" in big, white letters.

It's littered with little icons, and most of them have titles like "ADVISING_AGENDA.rtf", "EMAIL ME TO DELANA", "schedule spring '06", and, of course, "@@8d340660c8e30691cdbfb04fdbc6461f.doc".

There's also "resmonthtemplate.psd", the remnants of a prank. We decided we wanted to be Resident of the Month, so we took the certificate off the wall, scanned it in, and photoshopped out the name of the person who actually deserved the award. We also decided, in our infinite wisdom, to take out the names of our RA and Community Director, and replace their signatures with those of Mortal Kombat characters.

The fake certificates were scattered all over the hall.

Then there's "ki.doc" which is... um... I don't actually know what that is, to be honest.

And then there's a movie file called "accurately_titled_porn.mov"... which isn't anything at all what it sounds like. It's really just us beating eachother up with nerf guns and cardboard tubes.

Yeah.

That's really all I've got to say right now.

</laukaisyn>

I love my alternate reality dream-world.

2005-11-07T03:13:00.000-05:00

Yeah.

I love those dreams that take place in the real world, but have absolutely nothing to do with reality.

I had such a dream last night.

Imagine me, going in for advising, for next semester's schedule. Me. The cute, little PoliSci major.

Now, just to set this up for you, I scored pretty low on my placement exams; next semester, I'm taking a math class called "Algebra and Elementary Functions". It's the second-lowest math class offered.

In the dream, I walked in, and tried to convince the head of the Public Affairs Scholarship Program that I wanted to be a Computer Engineering major -- a major that, if I really did want to pursue it, it would take me six years just to take all of the prerequisite math credits.

So... yeah.

I apparently want to be a Computer Engineering major.

</laukaisyn>

...because everyone needs a cardboard naginata.

2005-10-30T16:32:00.000-05:00

Yeah. It's a good thing my roommate was home for the weekend.

It's sad. The floor has all these little cardboard scraps all over.

And, well, there are also the nunchucks... made out of water bottles and string...

...yeah.

</laukaisyn>

I can't think of any bad puns for this one. Sorry.

2005-10-27T20:51:00.000-04:00

Well, I don't know whether or not you guys like Sixty Percent Chance of Rain. I have no way of knowing that. Because no one ever leaves me comments, or sends me email.

Ever.

There are, however, a few things that I do know.

I wrote multiple chapters all at once, so I don't have to touch the story again until November 25.

I also know that I needed a new vice.

That, though, is a little tricky. I don't like the taste of alcohol, I don't like the smell of smoke, and I can't get into any photography courses.

So I started a new story. You may have noticed the new link, for something called The Dragon and the Goldfish. Well, that's it.

It is -- no, I take that back. It will be a great deal darker than Sixty Percent. It's not a spy with a katana driving around in an ice cream truck with a dead body in the freezer.

It's different.

</laukaisyn>

This is the point where I stare at the screen and blurt out (expletive deleted)

2005-10-25T16:19:00.000-04:00

For all my theatrical costume shop experience, I'm making my halloween costume out of brown paper bags and duct tape.

Yeah.

It's going to be awesome, though. Provided I actually cut it straight this time.

We're going to be ninjas.

Yes.

Brown-paper-bag-and-duct-tape ninjas. With cardboard weapons.

Okay. Fine.

So, then I stumbled onto this conversation:

[02:17] <#1> You know ... everyone from the hub should dress like Ninjas and pirates for halloween.
[02:17] <#2> hell yeah!!
[02:17] <#1> And then we should have a huge battle in the Erickson Field.
[02:17] <#3> I need a pirate hat.
[02:17] <#3> and a poofy shirt.
[02:17] <#2> i will show everyone how to make a ninja outfit
[02:17] <#1> I want to be a Ninja.
[02:20] <#1> I need to getmyself a Ninja costume then.
[02:20] <#4> be a t-shirt ninja
[02:21] <#5> anyone know a good place to get a good looking costume?
[02:21] <#1> Shit, I don't have enough black articles of clothing to make a good outfit.
[02:21] <#2> you make it
[02:21] <#2> fool
[02:21] <#1> I could be a t-shirt ninja.
[02:21] <#1> DAMN IT!!!
[02:21] <#4> I can't count how many websites tell you how to make the mask
[02:21] <#1> #2 ... you got electrical tape?
[02:21] <#2> ummm
[02:21] <#1> Or black duct tape.

So, yeah. Yeah. Next, they're going to be trick-or-treating, and taking our candy.

Oh, yeah. That's right. You heard me. I said we were going Trick-or-Treating.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-10-25T15:13:00.000-04:00

"If you walk through the streets of Baltimore, you might be a victim of Black-on-Black crime -- even if your white."

</laukaisyn>

Two words: Culture shock.

2005-10-15T19:49:00.000-04:00

It's one thing when you're in a costume shop, secluded from the world; and people come in to get costumes, and they tell you about the scary things that they need to dress up for.

It's another thing altogether when you see it first hand.

Maryland Rennaissance Festival (or, rather, Renfest) is one such place.

I will be the first to admit that any woman brave enough to wear a farthingale the entire day is scary. There were many such women there. It was scary.

The kilts don't bother me. The weskits don't bother me. The farthingales do.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-10-11T13:02:00.000-04:00

"Nothing says 'anniversary' like a trip to the strip club."

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-10-10T02:08:00.000-04:00

"To serve in Congress, or even as president, there is no requirement for scholarship and brilliance. For good reason. It is not needed. It can even be a hindrance, as we learned from our experience with Woodrow Wilson, the most intellectually accomplished president of the 20th century and also the worst."

</laukaisyn>

College hijinks abound!

2005-10-10T01:40:00.000-04:00

Okay. I was wrong, apparently.

Things do happen around here.

We were sittting outside, having a hall party -- just sitting there, doing nothing.

A handful of loud people come out of my suitemates' room -- and their drunk. Drunk out of their minds.

One of them has made pants from caution tape... which he is wearing.

I notice the "Happy 18th Birthday!" signs plastered on her door.

...they're inviting everyone in, for a party.

On a Sunday night.

One of the sober ones tried to convince two of his drunk friends that there was a camera behind the mirror in the hallway. The two drunks got a screwdriver, and actually took the mirror off the wall -- almost breaking it in the process -- only to find cinderblocks. The cinderblocks were a different color, because they painted around the mirror.

We had a nerf gun fight. Only, with cheap knock-offs of Nerf guns. It was really awesome... I mean, aside from the whole getting beaten with a cardboard tube thing. No, but seriously. There were darts and foam disks everywhere. I think everyone on the floor is kinda scared of us.

So then, we decided to play Monopoly. Only, we're the really cool people. We're awesome. We put down the extra five dollars to get Lord of the Rings Monopoly.

Yeah.

I got my ass handed to me. Having a Fortress (hotel) on both Barad Dûr (Park Place) and Mount Doom (Boardwalk) is an easy way to end the game quickly.

Very, very quickly.

Especially when Logolas (Racecar? Thimble? Terrier?) has no money.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-10-06T15:57:00.000-04:00

"If Ben Stiller had a disturbed zombie twin, that's what this guy would look like."

</laukaisyn>

Aww, man. I'm sorry. Mea culpa. Seriously.

2005-10-05T00:16:00.000-04:00

I know that, y'know, I've been really annoying lately. I am aware of that.

All that I've been posting recently are Quotes of the Day, and really awkward, really personal posts about whether or not I'm going down the right path in life.

I'm sorry about that.

I know some of you would probably like to hear more about our hijinks -- like the pillow fort, or the mattress. The simple fact of the matter, however, is that those of us that do actually hang out have no lives.

We have hall parties.

We go downstairs at 11 to watch the Daily Show, and then Family Guy. Usually we stick around for Aqua Teen Hunger Force, because it's just soooooo random.

This is what we do.

So, yeah.

Unless you want to hear about my flash cards for Russian -- and no, you don't -- I really haven't got that much to say.

Sixty Percent Chance of Rain is alot more interesting. Trust me.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-10-03T00:35:00.000-04:00

"Da, comrade, da. I sprecken zie Russian very good."

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-10-03T00:34:00.000-04:00

Jess arbitrarily walks up to people, and scratches their scalp, proclaiming "unprotected hair sex!". This is a conversation that ensued after she did that:

"Unprotected hair sex!"
"What is protected hair sex?"
"She'd be wearing gloves?"
"Latex gloves, maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe..."
"No, one of us would be wearing a shower cap."

</laukaisyn>

...just a strange joke.

2005-10-03T00:26:00.000-04:00

A Frenchman, an Englishman, and a New Yorker get captured by cannibals. The chief comes to them and says, "We're going to kill you, eat you, and use your skins to build a canoe. But you get to choose how you get to die."

The Frenchman says, "I take ze sword." The chief gives him the sword, the Frenchman cries, "Vive la France!" and runs himself through.

The Englishman says, "A pistol for me, please." The chief gives him a gun, the Englishman says, "God save the Queen!" and blows his brains out.

The New Yorker says, "Gimme a fork." The chief shrugs and gives him a fork. The New Yorker starts jabbing himself all over -- the stomach, sides, chest, everywhere. The chief is appalled, and asks, "God almighty, what are you doing?"

The New Yorker sneers and says, "So much for your fucking canoe!"

</laukaisyn>

Photobloggy!

2005-10-02T00:47:00.000-04:00

This one is insanely inappropriate. Don't say I didn't warn you. Mom started a game of Mah-Jong... and this is what she got:

</laukaisyn>

The realm of carchases and explosions.

2005-09-30T03:05:00.000-04:00

I got bored. Shit is going to start exploding within the next two weeks.

Mark my words.

*(Just as an aside, you should be proud of me. I didn't make a bad pun about the weather.)*

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-30T02:40:00.000-04:00

"It tastes like... burning."

</laukaisyn>

There is something wrong with me.

2005-09-28T15:24:00.000-04:00

Okay. First, a tiny bit of explanation. Every wednesday morning, I go to a local elementary school, where I volunteer for four hours. It's one of those set-the-alarm-for-5:30,-shut-it-off,-don't-wake-up-'til-seven,-freak out,-go-bundling-out-the-door-five-minute-before-the-bus-leaves type scenarios.

That's how my wednesdays work.

Now, if I had any concept of how to teach, they probably would have me helping out as a teaching assistant. But when they ask you if you're an education major, and you say "no, I'm a Political Science major"... there's a big difference.

I'm the one that re-organizes the class library. And, having spent four hours completely re-doing three book-shelves full of books for a class of twenty second-graders, it makes you feel really warm and fuzzy when they all scream "Thank you, Miss Ki."

So, they were taking a test today, and I moved all their desks into proper rows while the teacher read to them. They liked the rows -- except for two of them, who were now in the back, and couldn't see the board as well. Then, I finished the bookshelves (because I didn't finish doing so last week). I labelled the bookselves -- y'know, Fiction, Non-fiction, that kinda thing. I did it on those brightly colored strips of paper that elementary school teachers always use, in the neatest print I could muster.

They even had one of those plastic aquariums, which we all assembled. When I say "plastic aquarium", I mean a television-shaped thing with plastic fish in it that bubbles so the fish move. When I say "we all assembled", I mean "here, you hold these -- be careful not to lose any of the fish," and "here, you hold this -- be very careful not to drop it." The teacher did the important part -- the actual filling of the tank.

On their way line up for lunch, they all screamed "Thank you Miss Ki!"

I got this great warm fuzzy feeling inside.

...until I set foot outside the door.

Then I felt fucking awful about... well, I don't know. I just had this cold, bleak feeling. You know that feeling? I had that. The second I set foot out the door. And I don't know why.

</laukaisyn>

I am most definately the only one not getting it.

2005-09-26T01:50:00.000-04:00

I just went through all the little folders that I keep on the Yahoo! server.

This is an email mom sent me on September 10:

you're definitely majoring in the wrong thing

you should be a humanities scholar... all these great quotes,
anecdotes and observations are without a doubt the Great American
Novel - at this point you could graduate already published with
royalties

</laukaisyn>

I think I'm the only one not getting it.

2005-09-25T15:50:00.000-04:00

I honestly believe that I'm the only one not picking up the clues. But the clues are for me.

Okay. We decided, yesterday, that we needed to do something. We were having a "hall party". That's where we all sit in the hall, and talk, until we come to that point where we come to a lull in the conversation. Then we just stare at each other.

Finally, someone said the inevitable "we need something to do."

That lead to "we need somewhere to go."
"Let's go to Arundel Mills."

Arundel Mills, by the way, is the nearest shopping mall.

That lead to a disection of the bus schedules, dinner, and us actually going to the Mall, to get Nerf guns.

Just so everyone realizes, Arundel Mills is fucking massive.

It's divided into five "neighborhoods".

Somewhere in Neighborhood 2, I think, there's a Gamestop.

...And this would be the part where the story arbitrarily skips back to the seventh grade for no apparent reason. The sixth grade, actually, but, yeah. Whatever.

The Playstation. You know the playstation? I'm talking about the Playstation one. The days when they gave you a demo disc with the system, with demos for, like, twenty games.

You know what I'm saying.

Well, in the seventh grade, I finally got around to a game, buried on that disc, called MediEvil. You may have heard of it. You're a skeleton -- Sir Daniel Fortesque -- brought back from the dead by your old nemesis -- Zarok -- and you have to fight through his undead hoards to get to him. Right. Basic premise. The frst time I saw it, I was horrified, but, after a while, it was my favorite thing. Of course, the demo only had the first two levels -- the Crypt and the Cemetary -- so, naturally, those were the two levels I knew the best.

If I had that game and a playstation, I could do them right now. That's how well I knew Dan's Crypt and the Cemetary -- just from the demo. And the second game came out when I was in the seventh grade.

I still remember part of the cheat code. I never fully memorized it. But the first part is Δ, O, Δ, O, O -- yeah.

Okay. Arbitrarily skip back to last night. Sometime between the bus dropping us off and picking us up. We wander into Gamestop, just to see if they have anything good.

The entire right-hand wall is devoted to games for the PSP. Now, I don't really know much about the PSP other than it's handheld.

But, I glance over. And there, on one of the boxes, in all his glory... is Sir Daniel Fortesque. Directly above him are the words "MediEvil: Resurrection".

There he is, in his not-quite shining armor, missing his jaw and one eye, brandishing his broadsword -- for all the world to see. I pick up the box and skim the back cover. "MediEvil Resurrection puts players in the role of Sir Daniel Fortesque to embark on a gothic journey of redemption to defeat the evil sorcerer Zarok..."

Yup. That's it.

Alright. Fine. So, we all left, after having found nothing of any great value in the $3.99 box.

We bought foam disk shooters, got back on the bus, and came home.

We had our battle -- we know what to do for next time -- and then, we sat and talked.

A hall party, only, in the common room, not the hall.

So, we're sitting, talking... keep in mind, it's me, the Political Science major, talking to a Computer Science major and an Information Systems major. (Almost all my friends are CompSci majors, incedentally.)

The conversation seemd to go in a "when Ki changes her major" direction. They're all well aware of... well, of something.

Of what, I'm not quite sure.

And I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up.

But I do know that driving to Seven-Eleven on the Subwoofer of a pickup truck at one in the morning is more than fine for me.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-25T15:49:00.000-04:00

"You had to mortgage Mount Doom?!"

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-22T16:13:00.000-04:00

An actual conversation from my "Contrasting Visions of Society class:

"Everytime I hear him say 'Plato' with a 'D', I think of Play-Doh."
"I know, right?"
"Yeah. When we actually start reading it, I'm going to bring some, and be like, 'oh, oops'."
"I used to eat that stuff as a kid."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It's salty."
"And the different colors taste different."
"Yeah!"
(high fives)

</laukaisyn>

I'm going to spill my heart and soul out onto the keyboard; all I need you to do is listen.

2005-09-20T20:33:00.000-04:00

This story starts at 4:37 this morning. I know that seems like a pretty arbitrary time, but it's not. It's accurate.

No, no -- wait. I'm sorry. Hang on. I -- this story didn't start this morning. This story actually started long before that.

...It starts six years ago. Almost exactly six years ago, as a matter of fact. Six years ago, this past June, I had graduated from Elementary school, and was moving up to the "big" school. Six years ago this month, I was a seventh grader, and Nowheresville Memorial Junior/Senior High School was going to take me. I was heading to the massive fucking brick building on the other side of town.

You have to realize, I was eleven. I was cute, and innocent, and naïve.

My seventh and eigth grade years were spent doing very little of anything. Most of our "highschool" teachers still saw us as children, and didn't torture us to badly, save for one slightly psychotic Math teacher... but that's another story for another post. My friends and I hung out in the cafeteria, did our thing, had study halls, and tried to be fashionable. It was that whole really pleasant, stereotypical middle school experience.

This is the part where the story skips to 4:37 in the morning. This morning.

I couldn't get to sleep last night. At all. I spent an excessive amount of time staring at the ceiling. So I decided, "aww, screw it. I'll listen to the radio -- really, really low, so it won't bother my roommate."

So I click on the tiny clock/radio next to my bed. It's set to a specific station, which I also used to listen to back in Nowheresville.

It's about halfway through a song that I've honestly never heard before.

Fine.

Next, it starts playing Fastball's The Way. Do you remember that song? They made up their minds and they started packing
They left before the sun came up that day
An exit to eternal summer slacking
But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

They drank up the wine and they got to talking
They now had more important things to say
And when the car broke down they started walking
Where were they going without ever knowing the way?

Anyone could see the road that they walk on is paved in gold
It's always summer, they'll never get cold
They'll never get hungry
They'll never get old and gray
You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere
They won't make it home but they really don't care
They wanted the highway, they're happy there today, today

The children woke up and they couldn't find 'em
They Left before the sun came up that day
They just drove off and left it all behind 'em
But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

Well, when I was in the seventh and eigth grade, it was my favorite song. Seriously. I still know all the words.

Here I am, six years later, staring at the ceiling at four in the morning, mouthing the words to the song that I used to love in Junior High.

I started to get teary-eyed.

The only thought that went through my head was, "What the fuck am I doing with my life?"

Of course, now, I'm not a cute, innocent, naïve seventh grader. Now, I'm a jaded, cynical, slightly-pissed-at-the-system college freshman, who actually knows what that song means.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-20T20:30:00.000-04:00

"Clinton is the only U.S. president to be honored with his own condom brand line."

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-19T19:10:00.000-04:00

"Is it edible? Is it an insanely beautiful woman? 'Cause if it isn't either of those two things, I'm not interested."

</laukaisyn>

But, is it really early or really late?

2005-09-19T01:49:00.000-04:00

You know those days when you stay up really late, to the point where it's the early morning hours? And you're not sure if you've stayed up late or if you've stayed up early?

Well, yeah, this is one of those.

It's also a re-affirmation of my nerdlyness.

But, nonetheless...

This story starts about a week ago. Joey (the one who strangled the dean of students with razor-wire in a demented dream) arbitrarily got an invitation to a party in Ellicott City. And he asked if any of us (a) were going and (b) even knew about it.

Okay. Skip to last Thursday. We're playing video games in The King of All Cosmos' room. He tells us there's going to be a party, in Ellicott City -- where he's from -- and asks would we like to come. And yes, this is the same party Joey got an invitation to.

We all sort of mumbled, and continued our quest to do... whatever it was that you do in that particular game. It doesn't matter. But as the King started to corner us each individually, he started to get answers like, "well, I'll go if he goes" and "I don't want to be the only one there."

That brings us to Saturday. We were all standing around in the hallway, talking -- we seem to do that alot -- and came to a lull in the conversation. We seem to do that alot, too.

The King came out of his room, which is right near where we stand, and brought up the party again. We all kinda shrugged and mumbled. He asked Wilding (a Junior) if he was going, and then declared, "Ki's going!"... which, of course, was news to me.

He tried to bully us some more, but then we all went to dinner. Joey, Wilding and I sat at our own little table, and plotted against him. Well, no, technically, that's not true. There was no plotting. It does sound cool, though. In reality, it was, "y'know, I really don't want to go."
"Yeah, he peer-pressured me into agreeing..."

If we did indeed have to go to the party, I'd bring my Gameboy and pass around Tetris. We'd stand in the corner, away from all the drunk people.

Eventually, we decided that Wilding would be our rebel leader, since he had a TV. We told the King we weren't going, he tried to convince us one last time -- "You mean you don't want to get drunk and have sex with random people?" -- and we were on our way. We played with a Slinky in the staircase for a bit, then went up to the apartments, where we played Super Smash Brothers, and Mario Power Tennis. We came back down to our dorm in Wildings Pickup truck -- two in the bed, one in the passenger seat, and me on the Subwoofer.

By the tiem we came back to the dorms, the King had gone, so we sat in the study lounge and played Munckin. If you've never played it, it's a card game, and it's like Dungeons and Dragons, without the plot. It's really a lot of fun. We played it twice, staying up, in the end, 'til 5:30 in the morning.

And that would be why Sixty Percent Chance of Rain is so late.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-18T16:48:00.000-04:00

it's official, l am divorcing your father

actually, the hell with the divorce, l am putting him in a box and
mailing him to you

l had a box going, on the floor of the dining room... it had goodies
in it for you... fish, treats, etc. .. l had a big bag of chips ahoy
cookies in the box, he was walking thru the dining room, stopped,
rummaged thru your box, took out the cookies and said ' if ya snooze
ya lose'

he's eating your cookies right now

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-17T02:52:00.000-04:00

City officials also are refining a "Regional Walkout Plan" for use if Metrorail stops running. "That's people using their left and right feet," said Dan Tangherlini, the director of the D.C. Department of Transportation. Routes leading out of the city could be designated for pedestrian use based upon the availability of sidewalks.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-16T00:43:00.000-04:00

"Is that my wooden plank?"

</laukaisyn>

"Be nice to your suitemates."

2005-09-16T00:00:00.000-04:00

This story is odd. That's all there is to it.

It begins with one of the guys down the hall coming to me and asking if he could borrow a razor. When I asked him why, he explained that one of his suitemates was being a real jerk to he and his roommate, and he wanted to exact revenge by shaving off one (or both) of his eybrows.

He said he'd do that wednesday night.

So, thursday morning comes, and he hasn't come to get a razorblade from me, or talk to me, or anything, so I don't know what's going on.

He arrives, and declares that there's been a "change of plans". He tells me that they're going to take his mattress down to the laundry room. All I have to do is re-do the sheets so that it looks like there's still a mattress.

Okay, so they do all that, and we all leave.

Well, there's a bit more to it than that. They put a note on the bed, leading to another place. And that just leads around in a grand scavenger hunt.

Well... there were a few problems.

It was decided to move the mattress from the laundry room, which you can always get into, to the kitchen, so that no one would take it.
You need a key to get into that kitchen.
When trying to get a key for the kitchen, someone -- someone uninvolved -- actually said to the desk staff, "someone took his mattress, and we think it might be in there."
...And that would be where our RA got involved.

So we all got a warning speech about how we should never do things like this ever again, whether we were involved or not it didn't matter, because the mattress -- and the desks, shelves, and armoirs, for that matter -- are all technically property of the school.

But she still thought it was funny.

And the guy this was done to had to leave halfway through this debacle to go to class. So he called us to ask what was going on, and we told him that his mattress had been retrieved. Still not noticing it was a prank, he asked us to make sure "they" didn't take anything else.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-14T19:41:00.000-04:00

6 x 9 = 42
2 + 2 = 5
This is why we don't learn math from novels.

</laukaisyn>

You guys might appreciate this.

2005-09-14T19:37:00.000-04:00

I figured out what's wrong with the Happy-Time Hobo Ninja Brigade.

In order to get onto third-south, you have to be a drunkard or a Computer Science Major.

That would probably explain why I have the option of logging into any of five different wireless networks from the study room up here.

At any rate, I had a freaky dream last night. All my friends in Nowheresville may appreciate this one.

See, there was this one social studies teacher, who was promoted to "Dean of Students". Which gave him all kinds of disciplinary power. So he was on this major power trip most of the time, with his little palm-pilot and his golf cart and all.

Any way, the dream I had last night was supposed to have taken place in Nowheresville Memorial -- something told me in was Memorial -- but it in no way resembled the school in real life. Any way, the Dean of Students was giving me a hard time. Out of nowhere, one of the guys that lives down the hall from me -- who has probably never set foot in nowheresville, nor met the Dean of Students at Memorial -- leaps out of the shadows, strangles the man to death with razor-wire, and disapears again.

I'm still trying to figure that one out.

The King of all Cosmos (read: the senior down the hall who organizes movie nights) wants to see what I'd do in the game Hitman now. Because I have freaky dreams like this.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-13T17:00:00.000-04:00

"What kind of pin is it? Is it the kind you use on a shirt, or the kind you poke someone with?"

</laukaisyn>

...

2005-09-11T15:36:00.000-04:00

See, alot of people have differing views as to how to remember September 11th. Some simply go on with their lives, for those who can't.

Some believe in a moment of silence. Or in some form of monument, specifically to the victims.

Some see it simply as a day to reflect on the world. And on the nature of our lives.

...And if I had any brains in my head, I would've gotten on a bus, and gone to D.C.

Some of you understand that logic. And some of you really have no idea where I'm coming from.

I'm just going to say that it has to do with the handkerchief in my wallet and the World War II memorial, and I'm going to leave it at that.

©Matt Davies, 2002.

</laukaisyn>

"Put that on CollegeHumor, but blame it on College Park."

2005-09-10T02:51:00.000-04:00

I told you that my fellow Happy Time Hobo Ninjas were, shall we say, entertaining.

They duct taped a girl to an office chair, set up plastic Solo™-cup "bowling pins", and rolled her down the hall.

On an entirely unrelated note, there was an exceptional amount of partying and drinking, considering today was, y'know, friday.

"Are you drunk?"
"No."
"You're not drunk?"
"I was at a social gathering that involved the consuming of certain liquids which are illegal for individuals under a certain age."
"So you're drunk."
"No..."
"So... you're tipsy?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's it. I'm tipsy."

So, yeah. We were sitting in the hallway, and this random guy just walks down the hall. And he proceded to ask each o fus if we wanted a beer. And we all politely declined. And he went around the circle again, because he was drunk, and he didn't remember the first time we said "no".

And then there was the "we don't need to be drunk, we have Super Smash Brothers" crew. They played there way through for a bit, before deciding that they didn't really need to see what was going on. They pulled out the video cable, and the screen went black. You could hear the characters jumping and making their various trademark noises, but no one had any idea what they were doing. Tuxedo Mask won, by the way.

Oh, and someone got really drunk and vomited outside the steps to the dorm. It's roped off with Caution tape and the Campus police were here earlier.

I'm waiting for the Beer Pong competitions to start. It'll be just like Nowheresville. Only, y'know, without the drainage resevoir.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-08T15:30:00.000-04:00

"I have blonde and black arm hair. I'm diverse."

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-06T21:45:00.000-04:00

It's true, unfortunately. Vaccuum cleaners, stanley steamers, back pain relief...

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-06T20:37:00.000-04:00

My A.P. Statistics teacher handing out textbooks to Kathryn's A.P. Stats class: "If you get the one that says 'LoConte should die.', it'll save you the trouble. That was Ki's by the way."
</laukaisyn>

Photobloggingnesses.

2005-09-05T15:11:00.000-04:00

It's my pet grass.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-09-04T16:04:00.000-04:00

"I mean, I'm here 'cause I'm lazy. You're here 'cause your stupid."

</laukaisyn>

Hullo.

2005-09-04T16:00:00.000-04:00

And how are all of you, out in blogosphereland? hmm?

I'm actually doing pretty well for myself. Considering we have a three day weekend. No, no, it's cool. The entire campus is shut down for today -- because it's sunday -- and tomorrow -- because it's labor day.

Wow. That's a lot of dashes.

I have the room to myself 'til tuesday. It's like, everyone just left.

Oh, and y'know those little whiteboards people like to hang on their doors? I've vandalized every one with my stoned smiley face.

^___^

</laukaisyn>

What's the Russian word for "Rain"?

2005-09-01T17:36:00.001-04:00

You'll get Sixty Percent Chance of Rain after I install my Cyrillic font for Russian 101 and 101C. Deal with it.

...At any rate, I now have a perfectly stocked pantry under my bed. Yeah. Two microwave-safe pyrex bowls, Spaghetti-o's, Chili, Oreos, Soft Baked Snickerdoodles, and Oatmeal Raisin Cookies.

Unfortunately, I am in the land where Spaghetti-o's and Chef-Boy-ar-dee are in the "International" aisle.

I also have to inform you that I am out of disposable forks.

Other than that, though, I'm good. And I'm not going to get homesick, because I apparently have The Sump here on my floor. Though I've heard the other dorm on this street is the place to be, it's really up here, on third South.

And what is The Sump, you ask?

It's a Nowheresville thing. And I don't just mean you have to be from Nowheresville. You have to have gone to Nowheresville Memorial High School.

See, we at Nowheresville Memorial are a classy bunch. When we're drinking underage, but to young to pass for 21 -- even with a fake ID -- we drink at a place called The Sump. But what is The Sump? Well, The Sump is exactly what it sounds like -- it's a sump -- or, rather, a drainage reservoir.

Yeah. There are two ways into The Sump: through the hole in the fence in the CVS parking lot -- that's the "proper way" -- or over the fence in the County Department of Public Works parking lot. (It really ought to be noted, though, that going over the fence isn't that big of a deal. The fence dips down to ground level, so you can just walk over it. The hard part is getting into the parking lot in the first place.)

When you actually look old enough to pass for 21 -- usually senior year -- it's like a ritual of passage. You get a fake ID that says you're 21, throw out the one that says you're 18, and go down to the bar at the end of the street, where you can now (with any luck) be crowned Reigning Beer Pong Champion of the High School.

That's why I can't get homesick. The Sump came with me.

Oh, and, on an entirely unrelated note, I've noticed that no one has been commenting. But, y'know, no one ever comments. The last comment I got was a spammer talking to me about logging. As in chainsaws. And trees.

That was awkward.

</laukaisyn>

Happy Time Hobo Ninja Brigade!

2005-08-30T19:55:00.000-04:00

There is no way to explain this one. It's one of those things you had to see for your own eyes. We were called to a floor meeting, and it was decided that we needed an identity, as a floor. A mascot, so-to-speak.

And simply saying "third, south" wasn't good enough.

It went from Interscholastic Pimpin' to Hobo Brigade to Smiley Ninjas to the Happy Time Hobo Ninja Brigade.

In between, we had the ideas that never got off the ground. Like Baked Beans, the Dirty South (a play on the fact that were the south half of the third floor), Fluffy Clouds, and Scurvy Pirates.

I think this all has to do with the fact that we're the drunk fl-- Oh, wait, I don't think I should have said that out loud.

Oh well. It's true. There were two parties last night. One was in a dormitory and got busted, and one was up in the apartments and went unnoticed. I was one of three people on this floor who was sober.

It was sad.

One girl was doing cartwheels down the hall. When she regained her composure, she tried to befriend us. We were all her friends.

Then there was the guy who was trying to hold his pants up, and delcared, "Hey, I think I lost the button on my pants. Do you think you could help me find it?"

The guy with the suitcase full of beer was cool, though. He went down the hallway, peeking in open doors, telling people, "I have beeeeeeeeer." He then walked out the dorm hall. We followed him, because he was wobbly and carrying a suitcase, and we wanted to see him get busted.

He didn't. Walked right past the desk, no one said a word. Came back, even more tipsy, with the suitcase, flashed his ID card, and continued on his merry way.

I couldn't get on the Honors' floor. But it's okay. This is infinitely more entertaining.

Now, if only I could get hot water in the shower. I bet the Honors' floor has hot water in their showers.

</laukaisyn>

My Photobloggy sense is tingling!

2005-08-29T22:23:00.000-04:00

It's Django! And Boo! And iChat!

</laukaisyn>

I know more about Aleut canoe-building than I ever wanted to know.

2005-08-29T16:23:00.000-04:00

Our summer reading book was The Starship and The Canoe. It really wasn't that great; but... well, the discussion was this morning. That was fun. That was just us, answering the proffesor's questions about... stuff.

Yeah.

I overslept this morning. That was cool. And when I say "overslept", I mean, "I woke up with my roommate's alarm clock, went back to sleep, and then beat the shit out of my alarm clock when it went off."

And my pet grass still isn't doing anything.

But I went into town today. The bus tour went through both towns, and just kinda wandered aimlessly for an hour-and-a-half. So I still have no idea what's in either town.

</laukaisyn>

It's that much cooler than a pet rock.

2005-08-29T00:08:00.000-04:00

"Yeah, and we just met this cool guy, he was using our bathroom."

...anyway, um, yeah.

I have a new pet.

I present to you: my pet Grass.

Yup, Grass.

I'll post a picture later, or tomorrow, or something, because (a) I'm tired, and (b) it's not doing anything yet, and I really doubt you all want to see a picture of a triangular plastic thing full of dirt.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-08-28T11:36:00.000-04:00

"You guys are so stupid. Stop leaving your cell phones in your rooms. It's mobile. It moves with you."

</laukaisyn>

Well, uh, hi.

2005-08-27T17:11:00.000-04:00

Yup. I'm sitting in my dorm, and, well, I'm all settled, and hooked up, and all.

So... yeah.

Wanna see?

</laukaisyn>

...and there's a thunderstorm warning in effect for--

2005-08-25T22:29:00.000-04:00

A'right. Bad puns regarding the weather. You can gueass what this post has to do with.

No, really. Guess.

At any rate; I told you about the boxes. Yes. You know about the many boxes? Well, my systm broke down when it came to boxes eight and nine (no number sign) and the so-called "miscellany box". Yup.

Right now, I'm listening to "the Sweetheart Tree" from The Great Race. Only, it's, like, the "exit theme" version. It's nice.

It's kinda sad, though.

See, I don't have a problem living out a suitcases or boxes. And I don't have a problem with the fact that all of my stuff is in boxes, waiting to be moved. But, I'm staring at the computer screen, and... well, mom told me to cleam all of my stuff off of the computer and onto the firewire drive. So, I'm staring at one of the default desktops, and "TheSweetheartTree.mov" is the only music that I actually have right now. It's freaky. It's like I'm on someone else's computer.

Oh, and, uh, because I know this is going to come up: I don't hate you. I'm not ignoring you. I was just... on a mental vacation. See? I'm not completely antisocial. I'm just an idiot.

Oh, and one other thing.

This is a shout-out to my bro', DragonCelt, who is most definately not in the brig -- despite his efforts to the contrary.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-08-23T23:17:00.000-04:00

"I used to ride my pony down this corridor, but then I grew up, and got drunk, and fell off."

</laukaisyn>

I broke Mom's toe.

2005-08-23T18:26:00.000-04:00

Well, actually, no. To be honest, the milkcrate broke mom's toe. But it's my milkcrate, so really, it's legally my fault.

Anyway, I've been pretty good. I don't complain about mom too much. Okay. So, I'll complain now.

Let me preface this by pointing out that I'm moving to Maryland. So, I started packing like, three weeks ago. I started with box #1. Box #1 was massive. It had my new bedlinens -- "twin extra long" -- and a whole bunch of clothes. Okay. Fine.

I couldn't lift it.

So I unpacked it, and it became boxes #4 and #7. And if you see how the boxes were packed, it would make perfect sense. #2 is books, manga, and two pair of shoes, #3 desk stuff, fragile stuff, wall stuff, a lamp, and a pillow. #4 is the bedlinens. #5 is clothes -- along with #7 -- and #6 is stationary, and towels.

Okay. Now, I have an itemized list in dark tourquise Sharpie™ on the outside of each box, detailing what's inside each box. My system may not make sense to you but, that doesn't really matter. It makes sense to me.

So mom decides that we have to pack today.

I point to the pile of boxes in the dining room. The boxes that are already sealed with packing tape. All but two of them. So she goes into the ones that aren't sealed, and starts giving me a hard time about what I'm bringing.

"Do you really need to--"
"Yes, I need a lamp. That's important."
"But what else is in here? It's a big box."
"A pillow."

(This is the point where she takes the lamp out -- in pieces, because I couldn't get it in in one piece -- and pulls the pillow out. She stares at the sheer amount of newspaper crammed in the bottom of the box, to keep all my good mugs -- my decorative, I-don't-drink-out-of-these mugs -- from rattling around. Plus all my other important stuff was in there. My Dante awards were in there. The pillow served the same purpose as the newspaper.

Okay. Fine. Whatever.

I had to fight with her over whether or not I needed to bring two boxes of clothes.

I'm going to let you all in on a little secret: even though I worked in a Theatrical costume shop here in Nowheresville, I can't fold clothes. So, those boxes were more fluff than substance, so to speak.

Oh, and, since I know you're all wondering about the bit with mom's toe... well, I don't actually own a laudry basket. I mean, we have some, somewhere, but, uh, I didn't get one. I got a black milk crate that says "Tuscon Dairy" and "misuse liable to prosecution". Okay, so, I was using it to cart my stuff to the pile of boxes, to pack.

...and I kinda left it there.

...and mom kicked it. Or tripped on it. Or stubbed her toe.

I'm not sure what she did, but I heard her scream at me from the other side of the house for leaving it where I did.

But, y'know, hey. I've broken a toe or two on those old fashioned irons (the kind that had to be heated on a stove), because mom insists they make excellent doorstops. Funny thing is, when they're a hundred years old and they're unpainted, they blend in very well with an Oak floor.

Yeah.

But every time I do that, I get a lecture about looking where I'm going.

</laukaisyn>

Aw, man, I'm sorry. Mea culpa. Seriously.

2005-08-22T21:19:00.000-04:00

I know I've been, like, completely ignoring you guys.

And I apologize for that.

But I've been on something of a mental vacation recently.

Plus, I'm on new drugs! Yeay! Isn't that awesome! ...(no, no, it's not.)

Anyway, I just, y'know, hey. Yeah. Umm... I've been, um... packing. Yeah, I've got six cardboard boxes, labelled #2-#7 (don't ask why there's no number 1) and, uh... yeah.

Okay. Y'know what? Yes. Yes, I am aware of the fact that I sound completely stupid. If you could actually hear me, I would be mumbling, and, like, saying "um" and "y'know" all the time.

A'righythen.

So, in the place of a real post, I'm posting these kinda freaky iChat conversations.

...and then this one:

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-08-20T01:15:00.000-04:00

"Weapons change; man who uses them changes not at all." -- General George S. Patton, Jr.

</laukaisyn>

There is no way to adequately title this post.

2005-08-16T22:07:00.000-04:00

Okay. The way the school district is structured here in Nowheresville is downright freaky, and I'll admit it. There are four gradeschools -- the "Nowheresville Union-Free School District" -- and then, an entirely unrelated Junior-high/Highschool.

When you graduate from one of the elementary schools, (or at least, if you graduated six years ago) you get a "yearbook" -- a paperback book, with the sixth grade school pictures of everyone from the four schools. (And it was cool, because there was a great deal of confusion originally between two of the schools, they redrew the lines when we were in the first grade, or something, so the people from those two schools are pretty close.)

Anyway, our school (I don't know if the other schools did this) gave us each, in addition to the "yearbook", a little Autograph book, so that we could get our friends and our favorite teachers to sign it.

I'll be honest. I had forgotten about it.

After the back-to-school dream that I told you all about, I started thinking about that green backpack again. So, I went up into the attic looking for it. Inside, I found this little green book, with "Autographs" etched into it in big gold letters.

So, I brought it back downstairs, brushed the dust off of it, and opened it.

I honestly don't remember half of these people. There are teachers in here that, I honestly couldn't tell you who they were. And then, there are the teachers that, even though there's no possible way I'll ever forget them, they had the common decency to remind me. Like my gym teacher. She specifically wrote "PE" after her name.

And, of course, there are the people I haven't actually spoken to in six years.

Dear Ki,

My Predictions for YOU in the Future:
Frantic Pathology
Geckos... Geckos... Geckos...
More Hardware shows
Be my close friend 4 long, ♥ Jane (not that way).

*(Well, yeah, when I was in the sixth grade, I wanted to be a forensic pathologist -- which no one else could spell -- and I had a soft spot in my heart for home improvement shows and geckos.)*

Dear Ki,

I've never knew how funny you could be till this year. Hopefully you will to stay ~~one~~ and go to Memorial. Here is a song for you:
Geickos, Geickos
I love geickos
I love geickos
Well, we'll always stay friends.

Love, Jill.

...Okay, you get the idea. So, then I thought, "hey, where's Kathryn's?" You have to realize something. What Kathryn did to my High School Yearbook is downright freaky. I gave her three Sharpies™ -- a red one, a blue one, and a purple one, and told her to sign it whereever. I even saved a whole page for her. She took up the whole page. In all three colors.

In the little green Autograph book, it's just her name, in neat print. It's not even the calligrapy-type handwriting we're all used to.

I mean, I know it's real, I remember it.

It's just so... surreal.

</laukaisyn>

Sewiously.

2005-08-14T11:56:00.000-04:00

It's 91° outside. the weather channel said that it feels like 100°.

Seriously. That's not right.

</laukaisyn>

Soldier toy disarmed at airport

2005-08-14T11:54:00.000-04:00

Soldier toy disarmed at airport

A doll caused a security alert at an American airport because its two-inch plastic gun was considered a dangerous weapon.

Judy Powell, 55, from Walton on the Hill, Surrey, bought the GI Joe toy in Las Vegas and packed it in her hand luggage.

But security staff at Los Angeles International Airport refused to let Mrs Powell on board the plane with the replica rifle.

Mrs Powell had to put the gift - minus the rifle - in her suitcase so it could go in the aircraft's hold.

Mrs Powell said: "I was simply stunned when I realised they were serious.

"Security examined the toy as if it was going to shoot them and looked at the rifle.

"I was really angry to start with because of the absurdity of the situation.

"But then I saw the funny side of it and thought this was simple lunacy."

A spokesman for Los Angeles International Airport said: "We have instructions to confiscate anything that looks like a weapon or a replica.

"If GI Joe was carrying a replica then it had to be taken from him."

</laukaisyn>

Photoblog... kinda... thing.

2005-08-12T00:18:00.000-04:00

Have you heard of google maps? It's been around awhile. I'm sure by now, you have. It scares me. The things you can see with it.

I'm putting this up 'cause I think it's a cool picture.

I'll have more (scarier) pictures up on a yahoo page that I'll link to... at some point.

Y'know, you can zoom in on some scary things... in the U.S, Canada, and Great Britain.

(photo ©Google)

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-08-09T13:52:00.000-04:00

"You can't backwards-engineer beer! You need barley and hopps, and... why am I explaining this to you, of all people?!"

"That should be a Jeopardy question. 'When thrown against a small adolescent child's head, what sound does a small red dodge ball make?' ...What is 'splong'?"

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-08-08T11:20:00.000-04:00

"Please, tell me, who convinced you it was a good idea to wear this outfit to a cocktail party?"

</laukaisyn>

Django hates me.

2005-08-05T21:52:00.000-04:00

Well, no, no, that's not entirely true, but...

Well, okay, it's a convoluted story.

Whereas most cats have silky fur, Django has soft, cottony fur. It tangles very, very easily. He had knots right near his hips.

He also hates getting brushed.

Okay, fine. So, mom decides she's going to brush him, which means... I have to hold him.

So, he squirms. And makes angry cat noises. And squirms some more. And makes motions like he would scatch me. (Don't ask.)

So, I have him sitting upright, in my lap, while mom brushes the fur at his hips. And he squirms up, right into my nose. I make an "ow" noise, and Django squirms back down. Then, he squirms up again, and flings himself up and back, into my nose. Agian.

He kept doing that.

He was going out of his way to break my noise.

</laukaisyn>

Wow... I didn't even notice that.

2005-08-05T21:48:00.000-04:00

Okay. Now's your chance to learn stuff about Blogger.

The list of posts that I have, that I can see, can only view 300 posts. Any more than that, and I have to do... something special that I really haven't bothered to look up yet.

Anyway, when I logged earlier, to put up Sixty Percent, I noticed the new post count -- 303.

I hit the "limit", without even realizing it.

W00t!

*(I know you rally don't care, but, I feel special.)*

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-08-05T21:35:00.000-04:00

"Human beings can always be relied on to assert, with vigor, their God-given right to be stupid."

</laukaisyn>

I fought the floss and... well, I'm pretty sure the floss won.

2005-08-02T12:39:00.000-04:00

See, I think the dentist is cool.

Of course, the dentist I go to is a pediatric dentist. He goes out of his way to make kids feel comfortable with dentistry.

He also has an arcade cabinet of Asteroids in the waiting room. PacMan and the other thing pale in comparison to Asteroids.

At any rate, I had a dentist's appointment. So, okay. Fine. They pick at my teeth a bit. They scrape a bit.

No big deal.

They do that purple stuff, that shows them where the plaque is.

Fine. One spot, front tooth, near the gum.

No big deal.

"Do you floss?"
"Well... no. I can't get in there with--"
"No, see, you have to floss."

So, now I have the hygenist explaining the merits of flossing. She tells me the horrors of not flossing.

She then jams a piece of floss between two of my teeth.
"Ahh."
"See? It's because you don't floss."
"Ah-ahh. Ih eeahhh I ouff if ooo ouwwew." (That translates to: "Uh-uhh. It's because my mouth is too crowded.")
"If you flossed, you'd be more used to this."
"Ah-ahh. I eeff ah oo oaff oooeeveh. Ahh!!" ("Uh-uhh. My teeth are too close together. Ow!")

It went on in that direction, until she finally decided I had had enough, asked me if I really was going to floss -- to which I responded "Well, yeah, I'll try," -- and gave me a roll of floss and a little plastic holder. Then she did the flavored floride thing with the oversized-q-tip, told me not to eat for a half-hour, and sent me on my way.

But now I'm hungry.

</laukaisyn>

Well, this is... slightly awkward.

2005-07-31T18:57:00.000-04:00

On the right side of the screen there, I've got a javascript counter running, with the days until move-in day. I had originally picked an arbitrary day, in August, and used that. Later on, I actually corrected it.

Y'know, honestly, when I try to write javascript, it doesn't work. Ever. And I'm not going to simply abandon that counter. I like it there. Once move-in day comes, I'll probably change it. Y'know, like, a countdown to Halloween. Or Decemberween. Or whatever. It doesn't really matter.

At any rate, it says there are 27 days left.

While I was writing about my annual back-to-school dream, I got to thinking about the fact that I haven't actually changed my profile, to say "College Student" instead of "High School Student".

I really have to do that.

That would be good.

...Yeah.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-07-30T19:38:00.000-04:00

"It hits us, hits us both, simultaneously, like a semi made out of lightning which is also a professional boxer."

</laukaisyn>

Photobloggy!

2005-07-30T12:16:00.000-04:00

Y'know, I briefly mentioned the "dead spider" in the trophy case. I found out later on that he wasn't actually dead. He moves. Just, y'know, very, very slowly. Eventually, he moved into a better position, so I could take a better picture. And, um... I forgot to put it up.

</laukaisyn>

Photobloggy!

2005-07-29T15:36:00.000-04:00

It's kind of ironic, really, that Mister Softee decided to park outside my house. Especially considering what happens in this chapter of Sixty Percent Chance of Rain...

</laukaisyn>

Welcome to Alternate Freaky Technocolor Dream Land. Population: Me.

2005-07-28T11:54:00.000-04:00

I'll be the first to admit that I dream in extremely vidid technicolor.

And I'll be the first to admit that what happens in my dreams usually has very little to do with what's going on in real life. As a matter of fact, what happens in my dreams usually runs exactly counter to what's going on in real life.

I'll get to that later.

At any rate, I don't have "recurring dreams"... I have "sequels". *(I know you think I'm kidding, but I'm not.)* I don't get the same dream three times; I get the same dream, in three parts, over three different nights. The problem is, it could be weeks until I dream the second half.

One dream that I usually have, that I don't really talk about, is my "back-to-school" dream. I'm in school, and I'm heading to class on the first day of school. I always have this dream in July or August, and I know I've had them for the past two years.

It takes place at a specific staircase, in Nowheresville Memorial. It's the one right near Kathryn's locker (but for some, odd reason, I've never actualy bothered to talk to her). I have to get from the second floor to the third floor, because my homeroom is Spanish. (That detail is important, for some reason). I'm at the foot of the stairs.

This is where all three versions diverge.

In the version I had before the eleventh grade, the stairs were exactly the way they are now: They go straight, directly toward the floor in question. The problem is, on the left side of the stairs (I was going up the left, I don't know why), there was no staircase past the landing. It was a rectangular hole. And on the right side, was this guy I really disliked making lewd comments and rubbing himself laying at the top of the stairs.

I woke up before I got to Spanish.

In the version I had last summer, the stairs were the way they are in real life. Only there were holes in them. Not like dream before, but maybe about 18 inches around and twelve inches down. You had to avoid them, and there were quite alot of them.

Again, I woke up before I got to Spanish.

I had this dream again last night. This version was altogether freaky. Mostly because I started thinking about it. The stairs were entirely different. You walk up one way, to the landing, then turn at the landing, and walk up the other way to the next floor. That's what we had in elementary school. Okay, that wasn't the problem with the staircase. The actual problem was this: one flight of stairs should lead to the landing, and the other should lead to the floor above. Neither actually lead to the floor above.

From the second floor (this is where all of these dreams start), it looked like you could get to the third floor -- the "Foriegn Language Hallway", specifically. Okay. Fine. This guy (who I don't know too well) goes up, up to the landing, and then... comes down the other landing. "How did you...?" "...what?" --that kind of thing. We're all confused. He shrugs.

When we all look up, we see that the staircase is not actually connected to the third floor. There's a railing, all around; and the bars that go down from the railing were still there, only there was a whole in them, implying (at least to me) that you had to jump from the landing to make it the the third floor.

I don't remember my feet leaving the landing, but I do remember dangling from the edge. I specifically remember staring up, and realizing, for the first time, tha I was wearing fingerless gloves.

I climb up, and look down, and realize I am also wearing those black, baggy goth pants with the zippers and the hooks and all.

Fine. Whatever. Apparenly, I'm a goth in this dream.

So I wander over to Spanish. I look, and, yup, it's Spanish. (For the record, it looked nothing like any real-life Spanish class).

So I throw down my backpack. It was once green, and it now has this stained blue appearance. (I haven't actually used this backpack since the eigth grade. And it's still green.)

I decide I'm going to go to the bathroom before class starts. Rather than going to the teacher, and asking for a hall pass, to use the bathroom in the hall, I wander over to the bathroom in the classroom. I didn't get into it, because someone pushed me out of the way, but I got a good look at it. (We don't have bathrooms in class. It was like the bathrooms in first grade. First Grade. That's a stretch.)

Only, it wasn't exactly like the first grade bathrooms. There was a ladder shoved in the corner. I thought to myself, "A ladder? Why... Oh! I must lead up to the lighthouse!"

Yup. In this dream, Nowheresville Memorial has an additional two-story lighthouse on the roof.

But at least I finally got to Spanish, so I could see for myself.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-07-27T14:39:00.000-04:00

"The one thing about watching the History Channel... You always know who's going to win. It's not like it's suspenseful."

</laukaisyn>

Bizarre Child Support Battle in Brooklyn

2005-07-27T00:23:00.000-04:00

Bizarre Child Support Battle in Brooklyn

Eyewitness News reporter Michelle Charlesworth is live on Manhattan's east side with the story.

This is a question for men tonight: what happens to sperm in a bank when you stop paying to keep it frozen? Can your estranged wife pick up the freezing bills and use your sperm, then come after you for child support payments? That is at the center of this lawsuit against a sperm bank a wife and a notary public.

This couple is currently getting divorced but before the relationship hit the rocks they were trying to have kids. According to court documents, Mr. Deon Francois' sperm was frozen at NYU. Then the break up happened - about two-and-a-half years ago. Mrs. Francois continued to pay $500 a year to keep the sperm frozen and underwent in vitro.

Mr. Francois says he didn't know about any of this, in fact, he didn't know that she was still trying to get pregnant. He thought that if nobody was paying to freeze the sperm, it would be thrown away and it was a non-issue.

John James, Deon Francois' Attorney: "He did not want a child at that time and he did not give any kind of written or oral consent for NYU to use the sperm, in fact didn't pay storage fees. He moved out, he forgot about the whole plan of having children with Chaamel."

But Mrs. Francois attorney says not only did her husband know, he was cashing thousands in refunds from the couple's insurance company - reimbursement for fertility bills that she had already paid.

Steven Gildin, Chaamel Francois' Attorney: "What do you do in a situation when a man relies on a woman who says 'I'm on birth control' but she's lying. Or what if the birth control just fails? Does that father then have the right to walk away from his financial responsibilies? It's the same thing."

Now the embryo is an 8-month old baby boy and a judge says Mr. Francois owes $150 a week in child support. What about a legal release to use the frozen sperm? She says he signed one, he says it's a fake.

What about a notary? She says it's notarized, he says it's a fake, and his attorney says his client has run out of money.

John James, Deon Francois' Attorney: "He wants to focus now on concluding the divorce matter and focusing on the case against NYU the notary and his wife. Well he needs to be compensated and he has to pay child support and it's going to cost maybe several million to raise a child in the 21st century."

No comment from NYU tonight and Mrs. Chaamel Francois is pregnant again and her attorney says he will go after Mr. Francois for child support because she became pregnant while they were married and that is what the law supports.

</laukaisyn>

You're Welcome.

2005-07-21T20:04:00.000-04:00

^_^

</laukaisyn>

Georgian Authorities Destroy Illegal Tomato Plants Near Parliament Building

2005-07-19T20:16:00.000-04:00

Georgian Authorities Destroy Illegal Tomato Plants Near Parliament Building

MosNews -- 14 tomato bushes were found on Tuesday in gardens near the Georgian parliament building in Tbilisi.

Georgian authorities have destroyed the bushes on which the tomatoes had already started to mature. Each bush was tied to a wooden stake.

The bushes were found on a lawn where the Georgian president’s Dutch wife, Sandra Roelofs, planted tulips.

The authorities were quoted by RIA-Novosti news agency as saying they did not know how the tomatoes appeared on “the main lawn of the country.”

Georgia led by Mikhail Saakashvili was the first ex-Soviet republic to start the wave of so-called “colored revolutions” not supported by the Kremlin and considered a form of westernization. However, there was no news of any political motives behind the planting of the tomatoes near the parliament building.

In recent months tomatoes have become the missile of choice for protestors in a number of former Soviet states.

</laukaisyn>

I don't think it should be called a "Gas Station". It should be called a "Flammable Products Station".

2005-07-18T21:21:00.000-04:00

No, no. Seriously. I'm not kidding.

Think about it. A "Gas Station" sells every conceivable flamable product known to man (and allowed by law).

They sell every kind of flammable petrol product made for automobiles.

They sell cigarettes.

They sell charcoal.

They sell lighter fluid.

They sell beer.

For crying out loud, they even sell lighters and matches.

</laukaisyn>

In Video Game, a Download Unlocks Hidden Sex Scenes

2005-07-17T18:26:00.000-04:00

In Video Game, a Download Unlocks Hidden Sex Scenes

Action video games are renowned for serving up simulated gore and violence, but an intriguing mystery surfaced last week in which politics, business and simulated sex feature prominently as well.

With some code written by Patrick Wildenborg, a 36-year-old Dutch techie, and a few friends, some scenes in the best-selling video game Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas become sexually explicit.

His free code, which can be downloaded over the Internet, acts as a software key, Mr. Wildenborg explained. He said it merely unlocked the sexually graphic images that are hidden inside the game and written by programmers who work for the game's developer, Rockstar Games, which is owned by Take-Two Interactive, a leading game publisher.

Mr. Wildenborg's program has become quite popular since it was posted on a Web site last month. By last week, the effects of his software handiwork came to the attention of Leland Yee, a California assemblyman, who has long called for legislation to curb the sales of video games to children. In a statement last Wednesday, Mr. Yee chided the game industry's self-policing unit, the Entertainment Software Rating Board, for failing to properly rate Grand Theft Auto as a game for adults only.

In taking on the Grand Theft Auto series, Mr. Yee was going after a well-known target. "This particular game has been known to include extremely heinous acts of violence," his statement said, "and now it has been uncovered that the game also includes explicit sexual scenes that are inappropriate for our children."

Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas is not intended for younger children. It is rated M, or mature, for players 17 years and older. The national electronics store chains sell M-rated games, but tend to avoid adult-only titles.

The game rating board said on Friday that it would investigate Grand Theft Auto to see if the publisher had violated the industry rule requiring "full disclosure of pertinent content."

Mr. Wildenborg's program, called Hot Coffee, is known as a mod - for code that modifies a game. Such programs have helped spread the popularity and lifespan of many games by adding features and flourishes not imagined by the publishers. For the most part, the industry encourages these hobbyist contributors.

Whether the publishers will be held responsible if they wrote, and then hid, the sexually graphic scenes is not clear. The sexually explicit scenes do not appear with a few keystrokes, as happens with software "Easter eggs" - typically names, messages or games hidden in programs. The graphic episodes in Grand Theft Auto cannot be rendered unless a user downloads the Hot Coffee code or a similar program.

"At the end of the day," Mr. Wildenborg wrote in an e-mail message yesterday, "Grand Theft Auto is not a game for young children, and is rated accordingly." The hidden graphic images, he added, are "not something it is possible to accidentally stumble across" in the course of playing the game.

Representatives for Take-Two or Rockstar Games could not be reached for comment yesterday. But Rockstar issued a statement on Friday that said it was confident that after the rating board's inquiry, Grand Theft Auto would retain its current rating, M, for mature.

</laukaisyn>

Link of the day!!!!!!! Clicky fun!

2005-07-17T17:38:00.000-04:00

Right. Yeah.

Seeing as how you got one yesterday, today is a Link of the Day.

Plus, you get two of them!

It's kinda fitting, too.

The first is Jinx, [Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.]. The Second is ThinkGeek, [A simple idea to create and sell stuff that would appeal to the thousands of people out there who were on the front line and in the trenches as the Internet was forged.]

So... yeah. Oh, and, the cool part is, while they don't actually acknowledge eachother's existence, they're competing vicariously. ThinkGeek is pro-Ninja, whereas Jinx is pro-Pirate. (Yeah... I'm not joking.)

</laukaisyn>

The Vacation Crisis

2005-07-16T16:46:00.000-04:00

I found this in a local paper (read: Villiage Newspaper). It was originally on the "Opinions" page; and it was written by Michael Miller.

July is the vacation season. But chances are you aren't on a vacation. Separate studies by Universal Resorts, Expedia.com, Hudson Staffing and the Families and Work Institute show that the American vacation crisis is worse than ever. And a lot of it is self-imposed.

Americans took the money, and left the vacations on the table. French workers get five to six weeks of paid vacation each year, and they are expected to take that time off. German workers average at least 30 days of vacation each year, a minimum of 24 full days by law. Workers in Great Britain typically receive 23 vacation days, the fewest among Europeans. Australians get 30 days of paid vacation by law, and average 25 days of actual days taken off. Meanwhile, there is no federal right to any vacation time in the United States (21 percent of full-time workers don't have access to paid vacations), though most employers do have a vacation policy. Between 36 percent and 51 percent of full-time U.S. workers don't take all their vacation days off. Two weeks of paid vacation is typical here, but Americans are on track to give back more than 421 million days of vacation time during 2005. One study puts the actual value of that extra work at about $54 billion worth of economic productivity.

The trends are ominous. In 2004, Americans gave back 415 million days of vacation time, a rise of 50 percent over 2003. Since 1970, American hours worked per capita have increased a full 20 percent. Meanwhile, per capita hours worked are down 23 percent in France, 18 percent in Germany, 12 percent across the entire European Union and even 18 percent among Japanese workers. It is American productivity which ballooned the stock markets, adding incredible value to American corporations. And those corporations are not returning the loyalty and effort.

In a corporate world rife with downsizing, restructuring, mergers and acquisitions, employees are hesitant to take time for fear that bosses will decide that the job can get done without them. In addition, many companies have cultivated a machismo workplace attitude in which vacation and downtime are seen as a sign of weakness. Twenty-three percent of American workers check in with the office "most days" while on vacation, and that figure rises to 38 percent among managers. Perhaps it's no surprise that 34 percent of U.S. workers said they return to the office more stressed or as stressed as when they left.

Even when companies try to make it easier to take vacations, many Americans can't bring themselves to go. One management firm invited employees to buy extra vacation days, and 52 out of 138 workers put up the money. By the end of the year, though, just under three-fourths of them had asked for refunds.

More and more it's becoming clear that vacation is vital to sustained productivity, which is why Europeans take the vacations and still get the job done. Studies show that job performance increases after a week's vacation, that workers come back recharged and rejuvenated (it takes most Americans three full days of vacation to decompress and feel relaxed). An annual vacation can cut the risk of heart disease in men by 30 percent and in women by 50 percent. Rand Corporation, the think tank giant, now gives employees a 5 percent bonus if they use all of their vacation days.

To hardworking Americans, time isn't just money, it's the currency of life. Juggling long work weeks with commuting and kids and civic responsibilities takes its toll on physical health, mental health and marital health. It takes two incomes to get by and it seems as though there is a relentless treadmill.

But perhaps Americans are starting to catch on. Since 2001, Salaries.com has asked respondents if they'd rather have more time off or a $5,000 raise. The first year of the survey, 33 percent said they'd take the vacation time. In the 2004 survey, 53 percent said that they wanted the time.

So maybe we're wising up.

I thought you guys would appreciate that. I have the unnerving impression that, if you're reading this blog, you're not on vacation. You're at a desk, somewhere.

</laukaisyn>

Link of the... well, yeah. You know.

2005-07-16T16:39:00.000-04:00

Okay. Well, first off, I'm breaking with tradition and actually using little link banners! Yeah!!!!1!!

Okay. Well, this link is forRandom, or Random Galleries. Take your pick. (I'm still calling it "A track runs through it", but that's a long story.)

It's an anime gallery.

But it's not the typical anime gallery. "Several things make this site different, I only host personally scanned high quality images, all galleries are temporary and will be removed after an appropriate time, and there is usually some sort of theme that will be found in each gallery..."

Also, just incase you weren't paying attention, they do high quality scans, for wallpapers and stuff. So, if big, high-res pictures of Anime characters are your thing, stop reading now and click here.

</laukaisyn>

Lost in the land of... that freakish little void in the middle.

2005-07-15T18:02:00.000-04:00

"Isaaru has confiscated your monkey."

Free cookies if you actually know where that's from. *(And I don't mean the nasty internet variety. I mean the awesome oatmeal raisin kind.)*

Oh, and, uh, just so everyone knows, I have a cat in my lap.

Another question: does anyone know how to get that last point in Peasant's Quest? See, out of the 150 points, I can only get to 149. So, err... yeah. And I'd also appreciate any advice anyone's willing to offer on Stinkoman, because I can't even get though level 1.

So, um... yup. That's pretty much it.

</laukaisyn>

Y'know the phrase "parking infraction"? This is one of those. I think.

2005-07-12T21:26:00.000-04:00

I had a parking infraction, once.

I wasn't caught. No body knew it was me.

See, the thing is, when you say "parking infraction", you immediately think of the lazy dumbass who parks in the firelane. Or the 17-year-old girl who just got her license and parks in the handicapped spot (when she isn't handicapped).

No. This is different.

This took place in the parking lot of the local supermarket.

We got all our stuff, loaded into the cart, brought the cart to our car, and put everything in the back seat. So I go, to put the cart back.

I look both ways, and run across the lane with my empty shopping cart, back toward the store.

I get it onto the curb, and, well, mom was waiting for me, so I didn't bring it to the line of carts; I just kinda left it there.

So I go back across the lane. To mom's car. I finally get there, and I hear a car horn, blaring. I look back, and there is a cart -- my cart -- sitting, square in front of this other car.

It just rolled off the curb.

And this guy thought the cart would move if he honked at it.

</laukaisyn>

Quote of the Day

2005-07-11T20:35:00.000-04:00

"...it's really a post-modernist deconstruction of pop culture (which is itself pretty post-modern, so you're sucked into a post-modernist wormhole of self-reference) - simultaneously celebrating it and mocking it by taking all the familiar themes and tropes and references of pop culture, and turning them inside out and stripping them of their real-world meaning, and extending them to their logical, absurdist extreme."

See? people can have intelligent converations about cartoons.

</laukaisyn>

Summer... v. 2.0.

2005-07-10T16:27:00.000-04:00

Right. Okay. And no one has any idea what that meant.

Some time last summer, I apologized for the fact that I hadn't been posting by blaming it on the fact that it was summer.

"...I'm really enjoying this whole summer thing... if I just help out around the house a little -- run the laundry, not run over my own foot with the dishwasher -- then I can be left to my own devices. Computer games and books. That's all I have to say."

I'm not going to link to it, because it was three times as long as that, and those were the only good parts, really.

But, so... yeah. Yeah. SUMMERY GOODNESS! w00t!!!

Oh, and, if anyone's wondering what I've been doing, ther answer is Homestar Runner; Final Fantasy X-2; Spyro, Enter the Dragon; Six Questions of Socrates; Final Fantasy VIII; and, uh... sleeping.

Yup. Truly tantalizing.

</laukaisyn>