The Proper Care and Usage of Semicolons

More events should have splash zones

2010-11-20T10:41:00.000-08:00

So I went with Em to the SaVRID meeting last night. It was delivered almost entirely in ASL. In short, this was not a meeting I expected to understand.

At one point, a lady got up and was given flowers. Everyone waved their hands in the air (I think that is ASL for clapping. Either that or "whoopty doo!") Then the person giving her flowers signed something, and from the context I took it to be an explanation of why she was given flowers.

Apparently, this woman was thinking very hard. And she was driving. Then she went over something. Then she went over something else. Then BAM! one-two-three-... she ran over a crowd of people. And for this, we're giving her flowers.

Or at least that's what someone who knows four words in ASL understood. I really should join this society.

[for more xkcd, click here]

Guess what!

2010-08-31T15:17:00.000-07:00

So, uh, we may have to change the wedding colors...

A happier note:

[for more I heart Bears, click here]

Chase Can't Read, ep. 3

2010-07-28T09:46:00.000-07:00

Fatty, Your New Life as a Nurse Starts Here‏
-my hotmail spam folder

Oh wait, was that really...?

Um...

[for more of the not-often-enough-updated Daisy Owl (Driscoll, are you reading this? Update!), click here]

Chase Can't Read, ep. 2

2010-07-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

"The road to Hell is paved in good internships."
-Johnson, Coleridge, Scott, Marx, and many others

[insert snarky comment about some of my former classmates' experiences], the end.

[for more Creep House, click here]

Chase Can't Read, ep. 1

2010-07-24T07:57:00.000-07:00

So, lots is going on. Not a lot of it is bloggable. But I miss blogging. So while I wait for my life to become a bit more readable, instead we're going to have a feature I like to call "Chase Can't Read", in which I tell you what I read instead of the sentences which were actually there. This is today:

"Just had a lovely evening in Naples, looking forward to a relaxing weekend away from the wife for our 3rd Anniversary"

-from Facebook

[for more Mal and Chad, click here]

That's a funny name for a horrible disease.

2010-06-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

So, there's yet another "panic, you're going to kill yourself by living life how people have for thousands of years" article on MSN. Apparently, if you eat/drink caffeine, salt, fiber, soda, meat, beans, or alcohol, you will develop terminal boneitis.

What's left on the list of approved foods? It looks like the only way to keep my bones in good shape is to straight lard. Can I get a little help?

[for more A Softer World, click here]

Double Feature!

2010-06-22T08:05:00.002-07:00

Moving is not quite so pleasant, I've discovered. Again. Of the many ways to packing stuff up and getting it to California, the above seemed like the best option. Overwhelmingly.

Of course, then I wouldn't have gotten my security deposit back. And I'm 95% sure the apartment I was renting was made out of asbestos. So, I got one of those off-brand PODS things.

When the moving truck called and said "Hey, we're running more than a little late, can we stop by tomorrow?" I was a little stressed. Naturally. After all, I had plans that were incredibly time sensitive, in the sense that I was feeling antsy and wanting to get on the road. Fortunately they managed to drop off the container overnight and everything worked out, thanks entirely to Eric.

Being back in California is fun! Dave Kellett wrote it best, though:

That isn't to say I'm sad to be here. I am as giddy as a metric bucketful of schoolgirls. My life is better than it has any right to be. It's good to be back among old friends (and to those of you here I haven't run into yet, sorry! Give me a little more time!) and make some new ones.

[for more Buttersafe (the top one), click here]
[for more Drive (which, if I might add, is my favorite new webcomic), click here]

2010-06-05T08:58:00.002-07:00

So, I'm in the middle of packing. All I have left are my dishes, my clothes, and cleaning. Woo!

Sadly, I have laundry to do. And the laundry room's across the parking lot. I am going to die today, the end.

While I'm being boring, I just thought I'd mention one of my favorite webcomics (that one) is off hiatus. Read, friends! Read.

[for more Nobody Scores!, click here]

Poetry competition!

2010-06-01T09:56:00.001-07:00

There once was a man
from Nantucket... wait, haiku?
I thought... nevermind.

[for more Bad Machinery, click here]

2010-05-17T12:05:00.002-07:00

So, I was driving home from the store today, and I passed some construction workers. On one side of the street, one was breaking apart the sidewalk with a jackhammer. On the other side of the street, one was pounding the crap out of a patch of dirt with a 16-pound sledgehammer. Y'know, one of those ones with a 3-foot handle. And man, was he getting into it.

Now, I'm sure there's a logical reason to beat the tar out of some dirt with a sledgehammer. I just think that reason is "Dirt, I hate you so much."

[for more Nedroid, click here]

Venison!

2010-01-30T16:07:00.004-08:00

I am embarrassed.

This doesn't happen easily.

It happened while I was driving to the store to pick up some basil. My heater broke, so I'm baking to drive the cold away. Yes, it does get cold occasionally in Austin. A few blocks away, I saw this sign:

My first thought was 'Advertising like this works? On who?' My fifth thought, after correcting my grammar and then remembering that the word whom is only kept in use by septuagenarian* third-grade-English-teachers and people who like to correct others' grammar just to feel smug about themselves and anyway whom has no place or value in modern English, was 'Oh! Right. A significant portion of the human population is idiots.'

It's right then that I became embarrassed. Not because I thought some people are idiots (and I'll admit that you don't have to be an idiot to appreciate the humor in the sign. It's just that it took me three or four tries to realize that it was supposed to be funny), but because I had to remind myself. I guess I really haven't lost faith in humanity.

And that embarrasses me.

[for more Basic Instructions, click here]

*Who knew septuagenarian had a U in it? Not me, that's who.

Specificity

2010-01-25T16:16:00.002-08:00

I don't think I've posted anything about grammar on this site. Or semicolons*. And, since we're all about truth and accuracy here at The Proper Care and Usage of Semicolons, I've decided to rectify that today:

Here's a guide someone else wrote about using semicolons.

Enjoy!

[for more Overcompensating, click here]

*Well, not the grammar-type semicolons at least.

Thank you Mister Gumby

2010-01-23T15:01:00.002-08:00

Today, I got an email. Hooray!

Titled "Get boluses for boosting", it reads:

If she ready,are you?

And that's it. No link, no images, no hidden anything in the message. The disturbing thing, for me at least, is that the word bolus has a very specific definition in my vocabulary, and it's not a good thing. At all.

Long story short, worst spam ever.

[for more Bellen, click here]

Ok, so it's not dinner...

2009-11-18T17:45:00.001-08:00

... but I do have my dancing shoes on. I'm on my way to see the Mountain Goats downtown. Awesome fun times now, review later.

[for more Cat and Girl, click here]

Media!

2009-11-17T19:49:00.002-08:00

I'm sure this is important news. I just know it has some value, if at least to the stockholders. But really, Village Voice? Dire Eggo shortage? Really?

[for more F Minus, click here]

Don't stop

2009-11-15T15:02:00.002-08:00

Let me tell you about my latest discovery.

As many of you know (and if you didn't, shame! Shame on you and your kin) my life used to revolve almost exclusively around music. It still does, to a lesser extent. It should come as no surprise to you that my greatest discovery of the last few weeks would be somewhat related:

I learned to fry zucchini.

Oh wait, that's a post coming up in a few days. I found this website - thesixtyone.com. I love it, and it loves me.

My first thought about it (ok, second, after 'I love Mario Kart Love Song') was: this is just like Pandora. Only it's completely different. Pandora's greatest strength is that it introduces you to new music: thesixtyone's is that is introduces you to new music that you actually like. See, artists submit music to the website. If they're halfway intelligent, they only submit their best work.

My biggest complaint with Pandora was that it sent me to mediocre music, even by the bands I liked. It is not the case here. I highly recommend giving the site a whirl. It actively encourages you to find new songs and new sounds, and it lets you collect the ones you like into your own personal radio station. There are more features, some of which are unlocked as you listen more and more to the website, but I'll let you explore them on your own.

The site has its indie leanings. I like that. It's dynamic. I like that too. Sometimes I have trouble getting into the new stuff on the page, but then I listen to my own radio station. After a few hours I'll check back and start finding stuff I like again.

As a personal request: if you give it a try and think you'd like to enroll, shoot me an email or comment here. If I send you an invite and you accept, I get bonus points. I like bonus points.

[for more wondermark, click here]
[my thesixtyone.com page]

My many apologies

2009-11-15T14:48:00.002-08:00

So, I thought it would be neat if for NaBloPoMo, instead of writing a post every day I never posted anything.

Ok, not really. I've been busy. School's been kicking my butt. I'm having a blast; I love learning about stuff when I actually care about it. Still, it's hard.

Things seem to be winding up for the semester, though, so I should have time to post on here the things I've been meaning to write about the last few weeks. Here's back to regular posting.

I hope.

[for more cyanide and happiness, click here]*

*Warning: not for the easily-offended

Cheep cheep

2009-10-16T20:43:00.002-07:00

I've embarked on a new venture, folks.

See, after an earlier post, I realized that all media have value. I also understand why the Hitchhikers' Trilogy* changed so much from incarnation to incarnation. Stories are different depending on how you tell them.

So, I've launched my new initiative: a platform for twitternovels. It's here. It's an experiment, and it will probably develop over the next little bit. Develop in good ways.

[for more Little Dee, click here]

*for given values of three that do not include six. Yet. I might give the new one a try in a few years.

Just one day?

2009-10-09T03:02:00.002-07:00

So, I've been needing to give Matilda a bath. She's pretty dirty. Problem: it's been raining a lot.

And, as I was bored and needed something besides sleep to do for a few minutes, I looked up the weather (hooray Wundermap!). And saw this, courtesy of the Weather Underground.

And it was moving southeast.

My eyes opened a little bit when I saw that line. That explains both the flash flood warning and the fact that I shouldn't wash Matilda today. Here's to trying tomorrow.

[for more chainsawsuit, click here]

I'm sure I missed something

2009-10-05T08:00:00.001-07:00

I heard this in the computer lab today*.

Girl: How's human sex?

Guy: Ugh. Horrible.

That is all.

[for more A Softer World, click here]

*for certain values of Today.

I should have written this down when I thought of it in 2001.

2009-10-02T19:14:00.004-07:00

Probably my least favorite day is laundry day. It combines my hatred of doing laundry and paying money to do laundry. I hate hate hate it. But one day, I thought to myself, "Self, there has to be a way to make this fun. Or at least less painful."

And I came up with an idea.

Paint a dollar sign on your laundry bag. (Optionally, dress in a stripey black and white shirt and wear a domino mask.)

That way, as you're walking to and from the laundromat, you can grumble about having to do laundry, but Hey! Look how full my dollar sign bag is!

[for more Bellen, click here]

Caveat: one thing I hate: when I read something somewhere that was an Idea that I had arrived at: independently, in the past, and I never did anything with. I think I read something like this on Dinosaur Comics recently, but I can't remember. Sorry.

It is frightening when art imitates life this closely, part 2

2009-09-26T08:00:00.000-07:00

I don't remember exactly when I first published the thought, or where I've done it, but I'm doing it here now.

My greatest goal in life, the thing that could happen to me that would make my life the biggest success it possibly could, is encapsulated in the comic above.

I have, since about March 2004 if memory serves correctly, wanted to have a disease named after me. I do not want the hassle of having to become a medical researcher.

Life is so hard.

[for more Wondermark, click here]

It is frightening when art imitates life this closely, part 1

2009-09-24T08:00:00.001-07:00

Having been on both sides of this within the last [insert period of time that doesn't look embarrassing], I have to say that being the one who isn't holding the flowers is a whole lot nicer.

Although being party to any part of the transaction is ... unsettling.

[for more F Minus, click here]

More beards!

2009-09-22T18:21:00.002-07:00

I couldn't stand to have political anything on the top of my page for 24 hours, so here's some filler!

Also, I am this close to buying a KitchenAid. Woo!

I may have, in a semi-intoxicated state due to sleep deprivation and headaches, promised to start a cooking blog once that* happens. This is my official notice of that, so Uffish can hold me to this in the future. Developments! Also woo!

[for more Buttersafe, click here]

*for certain values of "that", which also include getting a bit more free time.

Not again.

2009-09-21T20:54:00.002-07:00

Politics. Woo!

I tried to avoid politics. I tried as hard as I could. Then I read an article. I know, I shouldn't be reading the news, but this one got to me.

Remember the healthcare debate? I do. It's going on right now. For shame.

Based off the numbers the AP reports here, the current healthcare bill will extend coverage to 29 million currently-uncovered people and cost $856 billion. Let's do a little math. That comes out to $29,517.24 per person. That feels big, but we need to remember that's over 10 years.

There are two ways to look at this number. I'm not sure how it was calculated. If that's the present value of the payments (assuming 10 annual payments) with a generous market rate of 5%, that comes out to $3,822.62 per year. Go up to 7% and that turns into $4,202.59 per year. Per person. If we assume that they're just summing all the expenses and not accounting for the time value of money, it comes out to $2,951.72 per person per year.

Now, I have a crap healthcare plan. I got it through the school, and it covers at most 5% of my annual medical expenditures. Granted, I'm special. Still, it's better than Medicare (which I don't qualify for anyways) and cost $1,100 per year.

So... why does the government plan cost 2.5 to 4 times as much as mine? Is this going to be a stunningly better plan? I don't think so. I haven't read the text of the bill (and who really has?), so it might be.

My real question is: where is that extra money going? Halve the cost of the bill (or double the number of people who would get coverage) and we're still paying significantly more per person than I am for me alone. I can think of two reasons this would cost more. People who have chronic medical conditions, who could not get any insurance plan other than the public option because of their chronic medical conditions, would drive up the cost. Either that or there's a lot of money wasted due to inefficient government bureaucracy. Which seems more likely to you?

And now, beards.

Kate Beaton knows where it's at.

[for more Hark! A Vagrant, click here]

This is going to be hilarious, just watch.

2009-09-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

Oh, and I forgot to mention. I seem to be having trouble keeping my blog updated regularly. School, church, and job-hunting seem to be taking up about all of my time. My current social life seems to consist of: lunch.

Huh, maybe that's why all I can think of is food.

Anyway, until I figure out a way to get things to balance a bit better, posting will continue to be sporadic.

[for more Toothpaste For Dinner, click here]

Did you get it? My blog has never been updated regularly. I am so funny. Ha ha ha.

In which I jump the gun a bit

2009-09-16T08:00:00.000-07:00

I still haven't figured out what I want to be for Halloween.

Normally I start thinking about it in July, get a really good idea and then forget about it until November. This means lots of last-minute, improvised costumes.

Not This Year.

I don't want something too difficult, but I also want something that'll look good. Perhaps an obscure literary reference. Dunno.

[for more Sheldon, click here]

Nom. Nom. Nom.

2009-09-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

Lately, all I seem to be able to think about is food.

This could be a problem.

[for more Sinfest, click here]

Gasp wheeze

2009-09-12T19:56:00.003-07:00

When I was younger, I was a runner. I was never particularly good at it, but I enjoyed it. That all ended in '99 though.

I was working at a carnival. I was the cotton candy man. There is an art to making cotton candy, as anyone in the business will tell you. It's a fairly simple machine that anyone can use, but it's hard to use right. I've been to some of those family/church/etc. carnivals where they have a cotton candy machine but no cotton candy man. A self-serve cotton candy station, if you will. Invariably, you will see people wandering around with these long skinny whips of the stuff. That makes me sad. Cotton candy needs to be plump and vibrant. Unfortunately, to do that you end up getting cotton candy all over yourself.

How does cotton candy tie in to running? It doesn't. The metric ton of rubber I had dropped on me as we were packing up my last day does, though. Short story already made long being made slightly longer, it tweaked my back and when every time I went to run the next few months, running aggravated whatever injury was there. So I stopped running.

Tonight, I decided to give it another try. I threw on my old soccer jersey and some workout shorts, grabbed my iPod that is not an iPod, and headed out. I made a big mistake.

Running was not the big mistake. It wasn't any mistake at all. As I left, I thought to myself "I'll run to the Institute. That's what, 3/4 mile away? 1.5 miles seems a good distance to start with."

Have you seen my mistake yet?

At what I thought was the halfway point, I thought to my self "maybe you should turn around. That felt like 3/4 mile." I didn't. I pooped out right in front of the business school instead. Walked a bit, ran a bit, turned around at the institute and continued that pattern until I hit that halfway point again. I ran the rest of the way.

On my return leg, I was feeling shame (a rare occasion!) about having pooped out and walking part of the way. It was only 1.5 miles. I should be able to do this. Grar rar. I decided to post a blog where I mentioned this, only I would lie about how far I ran (wanted to turn around at 3/4 mile, pooped out at 1.5 miles and my destination was 2 miles away) and not actually name any buildings so I wouldn't lose any internet cred*. Then I looked up my course on Google maps.

Where I wanted to turn around really was at 0.7 miles. The business school was 1.6 miles along my path. The Institute is 2.1 miles away.

I did the workout I wanted to, and then some. Win?

[for more Nedroid, click here]

*Ha! Just thinking about that idea makes me laugh.

I feel great.

2009-09-03T08:00:00.002-07:00

Imagine you see someone walking onto campus with two children (one in a carseat and one about three years old).

If you're at BYU, this is a common sight. I remember that. If you're elsewhere, it's not. Either way, it's a fairly safe guess that the guy is a Mormon (ignoring the fact he was leaving the Institute building).

Imagine you see the guy again two hours later, leaving campus sans children.

Is there a black market for children somewhere here at UT? I'm tired of cleaning my own floor.

[for more KinokoFry, click here]

Note to self

2009-09-01T22:22:00.002-07:00

Contacts before brushing teeth.

Mouth + minty fresh = good

Eyes + minty fresh = not so good

Ow ow ow ow.

[for more wiki's lessons in life, click here]

Speaking of hypocrisy

2009-08-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

So, I saw the most recent Harry Potter movie with some friends. I read some reviews, all of them bad. The most accurate thing they said was that it seemed less like a fantasy movie with magic and (um) other magic and more like a teenage drama.

Which it was.

Going in expecting that, I had a good time! Not as good of a time as if I'd been with people who liked to heckle, but still fun.

I saw Contact in the theaters. I absolutely hated it. Why? The previews and commercials billed it as a sci-fi thriller. It was not.

The moral of the story: expectations matter.

[for more Daisy Owl, click here]

What was I laughing at now? Oh yes, that crippled Irishman.

2009-08-20T08:00:00.000-07:00

One of the fun things about this part of Texas is the beggars.

They're on every intersection on the highway, and anywhere people walk. I have seen a total of two beggars who actually did something other than beg. One was playing the banjo, the other reciting poetry he'd written (judging from the quality, on the spot). I've given to them, and not to the others.

Why? Because being able to write on cardboard doesn't seem like it merits a reward. Possibly the worst I've seen, though, is a guy who's taken over the intersection of my road and the highway after 5 PM. All I've read of his sign is the word proletariat.

Something about using a political ideology to try to open my wallet sickens me. And fails.

[for more Candi, click here]

And again

2009-08-18T13:43:00.002-07:00

I started school again (again) today. Hooray!

From what it looks like, I may have already covered the theoretical basis for most of the class when I was an undergrad. Part of me really hopes so, but part of me also hopes I learn something new.

Let's cross our fingers for both.

[for more Cat and Girl, click here]

Get off my lawn.

2009-08-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

Another thing I'm tired of hearing!

"Things happen for a reason."

This statement is technically true. Not in the way people think it is, though. I have only heard two opinions expressed. The first two: either everything is a coincidence, or nothing is. Hooray extremism! Thus, when bad things happen it was either random happenstance or an act of God that is designed to teach you something. I'm sure a third camp exists that is a mix of the two, but I'm betting they're kindly religious folks who sensibly stay out of the argument in the first place.

I was never sensible.

There's a reason I picked the above comic. I don't like to reuse comics on my blog, so I couldn't use this one again. Also, it reminded me of my favorite reason things happen: it's your own [grawlixing] fault. Well, it could always be someone else's fault (my second favorite reason, or favorite when I'm applying it to my own problems). Not everything that happens is a random occurrence, even if it looks that way. And not everything is an act of God. I'm pretty sure God doesn't care whether I have beans or pasta for lunch.

Uffish does, though.

[for more white ninja comics, click here]

News?

2009-08-13T08:00:00.000-07:00

Stop! Go read this article by the BBC.

It's a good article. It amused me. After all, prostitutes being more trusted than politicians? In China? Ha!

They think that's news. And limited to China.

Let's just look at it objectively. My last (and as far as I know, only) interaction with a prostitute: December 2000: Matt, Colby and I were on foot, lost in downtown San Francisco, trying to get to Union Square where our next gig was. After talking amongst ourselves, we asked the first person we walked by How To Get There. We thought he/she/it was a hobo. We were wrong. But, he/she/it gave us accurate directions! And, well, I get lied to by politicians all the time.

If I asked Hilary Clinton for directions, I expect any directions she gives me to be wrong (assuming she decides to do something other than swear at me).

Prostitutes: 3. Politicians: Well, a whole lot more than that.

[for more Non-Adventures of Wonderella, click here]

Is it really worth the chair?

2009-08-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

Pleasures are fun. Some of them, however, are less acceptable than others. Be it making cookie dough just to eat the dough and not for the cookies, or pooptweeting, or threatening people to get twitter just so you can pooptweet at them, or eating sticks of butter, or something so heinous as reading webcomics; we all have our guilty pleasures.

The guiltiest of mine? It's not on that list. The current one is The Kills. Their music isn't great. Their lyrics aren't the best. Every song I can remember off the top of my head has the same lyrics repeated over and over and over, as though they had thirty seconds of lyrics but wanted to stretch it out to a four-minute song. Even so, they're fun. I like listening to them. I recommend making them your guilty pleasure too.

[for more Rogue Robot, click here]

Not yet. Woe will be you as soon as I get back from the store.

2009-08-09T08:00:00.003-07:00

The stereotyped cry of the whiner: "You don't understand me. Nobody understands me." I have little tolerance for the thought, mostly because those I hear express it tend to be teenagers going through a teenage problem. Let's just say most of the problems teenagers have are, on a 1 to 10 scale of badness, right around a 3. And nearly everyone goes through those problems. The unjustified hyperbole, combined with the complete misunderstanding of human experiences, grates on me.

So imagine my surprise when I found myself thinking that thought the other night.

Granted, I am different. That's what everyone who thinks that thought thinks. But, well, how many times have you heard a song or read a story or saw a comic that you really related to? There is the proof that someone understands you.

Well, unless you were listening to Blueberry Boat*. Sicko.

[for more lead paint, click here]

*If you actually had that kind of reaction to Blueberry Boat, tell me. We shall discuss it over pastries.

How to succeed at Game Night

2009-08-07T07:34:00.002-07:00

Game Nights: They're fun! Well, usually. The fun of a game night depends entirely on who is there. This means that the responsibility of making a game night enjoyable falls squarely on you, dear reader. So how do you do it?

Having hosted an exclusive weekly game night for I don't know how long but it started in '03, I feel I have some expertise in the matter. The first point is to get people there. This means no alienating everyone you know, with the details and photos of your latest colonoscopy or other methods. Have some drinks, snacks, and napkins readily available! Also, games.

And that's where the host's responsibility ends. Contrary to popular belief, the guests have responsibility too. If the host fails some of its responsibilities, the game night can still be enjoyable. If the guests don't hold up their end, it is always bad.

So how do you do it? First and foremost: pay attention. If you're having fun with a game, you tend to keep track of what's happening anyway. If you're not enjoying it, the common tendency is to focus on something else or just daydream. This is bad. The less attention you pay, the more you slow down the game and thus the longer you prolong your displeasure. Also, other players get annoyed at you. You should never have to be reminded when it's your turn.

Second: Don't walk away from a game you've started. If it's unavoidable, find a replacement who knows how to play. If they don't know how to play, give them a quick crash course during your next couple of turns. If that can't happen, throw the game. People may not like that you threw the game, but at least they got the satisfaction of finishing.

Third: If you're not enjoying a game, don't whine about it. It's simply bad form. Instead, push the game forward as quickly as you can. Perhaps mention that the game seems to be taking a long time. At worst, throw the game.

Fourth: Remember it's a game. If people are picking on you in the game, laugh it off. Tease them about it. Taunt them (nicely) that you'd mop the floor with them if they'd just let you play unhindered.

Fifth: Don't play "nice". If the game has elements of competition in it, you should be competitive. The tension it adds helps make it more fun.

I've seen all of these violated at my and other game nights. I've listed them in order of badness. Don't break these rules, and the game night will be more fun for you and the others.

[for more Buttersafe, click here]

They are on my TV

2009-07-29T16:22:00.002-07:00

As I was avoiding, well, everything earlier today, I found a quiz! It's about Sharks, which we all know are my favorite thing to add to an otherwise unreadable essay.

According to them, I'm more likely to drown in the bath than be attacked by a shark. Same goes for death by agricultural machinery. I'm a little shocked by this one: I play in shark-infested waters far more often than I do in McCormick-Reaper-infested waters. Fields. Whatever. Also, something to that affect with baths.

Still, it gives me ideas. When it's time to go, being bitten by a shark while in the tub and then the lot of us dropped into a grain thresher? That is the stuff legends are made of.

[for more Wondermark, click here]
[for more xkcd, click here]

Does good Tex-Mex really exist?

2009-07-22T17:37:00.002-07:00

So, I'm pretty sure I didn't do any dishes last week, what with having run out of dish soap. That's why my hands aren't very recognizable. I've washed all but three dishes in the last couple hours.

Now, one of the things I miss most about Cowtown is my old taqueria. Let's be honest: the tacos were good, but not great. Where it really shines is the salsa bar. Ten different types of salsa, onions cilantro and lime on the side, and tiny plates to put your chips on.

Ma and I used to have the strangest competitions. Who can pack the car tightest on a trip. Who can eat a Joe's sandwich using the fewest napkins. Who can get the most chips on their plate. I have a skill for this. It harkens back to the days when the guys and I would go to AM/PM and get frogurt. I didn't get my choice of topping, but I did manage to fit an entire quart of frogurt on top of a cone that was only supposed to hold twelve ounces.

You'd think with such prodigious ice-creaming skills, the chip contest would be simple. For some reason, Ma beats me every time. I've tried to duplicate the technique and I get close. Still, we're the only people I know who go to the salsa bar and don't need to go back for more chips.

Some skills do transfer over, though. My dish drying rack is eight inches by twenty inches. My stack of drying dishes currently stands three feet tall and is entirely supported by the rack.

Unwieldy, precarious piles like that move me. Emotionally. Well, as far as any man can be moved emotionally. They take me back in time, to happier days. Happier days where I could get good salsa. Or just salsa that isn't so overloaded with garlic that it can be served on spaghetti and no one would notice anything wrong.

Ahem.

I get a little carried away when it comes to my salsa. Have you noticed?

[for more Cat and Girl, click here]

In a case of what may well be the worst segue ever,

2009-07-21T07:00:00.001-07:00

Speaking of cleavage...

I had the most remarkable dream. You know those dreams where you're suddenly at school and you're in your underwear and nobody notices and there's an exam and the stress piles on until you wake up?

Remember how I don't do things the way you do?

I got invited to a party. I was told it was a theme party, but I forgot what the theme was. I figured it wouldn't matter. When I got there, I found out:

It was a Naked party.

Except, well, everyone was censored. They all had those black boxes. And so I, not wanting to stick out like a sore, fully-clothed thumb, stripped down.

I had forgotten my black boxes.

So here I am, with a bunch of good friends and girls I just might be interested in taking out sometime. Naked as the day I was born. No, nakeder. Fortunately, I found a pillow very very quickly. I went nearly the entire party with it... strategically positioned, cursing and wishing that I had remembered to bring my black boxes.

Oh, and no one* noticed.

[for more F Minus, click here]

*almost.

Ahem

2009-07-19T22:01:00.004-07:00

An open letter to the women of the world.

You are lovely. However, you seem to be operating under a false assumption. When you flash your cleavage at me, you are not doing me a favor. Thus, I will not treat you as though you had.

Should you be wanting preferential treatment, there are easy ways to get it. Try earning it. Ownership of breasts qualifies you for nothing.

That is all.

Or it would be, if I didn't have more to say.

In many (ok, a few) ways, I'm just your normal guy. I like women. I like looking at them. But drawing attention to body parts that I will get glared at (by you) for looking at? This needs to stop. If you want to flirt, that should not be your go-to technique. Try, I don't know, making me laugh. Eye contact is good. Smile. Because if the twins are your best assets, you're getting nothing.

As a side note, I haven't quite figured out what has inspired this recent spate of cleavage-flashing. Sure, it was flattering at first, but now I'm just bewildered.

[for more creatures in my head, click here]

I heard the Prime Minister use it.

2009-07-19T00:17:00.004-07:00

It's too hot to blog.

Why?

Here's what the satellite tells us (courtesy of Frankensteam's Log)

Yes, a giant demon skull is breathing fiery doom onto the state of Texas. No, that's not photoshopped. No, it has not been this hot for several million* years, when the Earth was a molten ball of lava. Instead of thinking of things to blog about, I've been thinking of places to hide where it's cool. [Note to self: can you set the oven to cold? Find out.]

[for more Sheldon, click here]

*By several million, I mean one hundred one. Like the dogs.

Po the Panda is full of crap

2009-07-14T19:20:00.003-07:00

Last night, I made a discovery.

Back before my eventful fleeing the state back in December, I cooked some spaghetti. As I was preparing the sauce (a simple red sauce with meat in it. I'm not sure if it qualifies as a marinara but I don't care) I noticed something. My anise... it's missing.

I scoured the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, the closet, the other closet, it was nowhere to be found. I gave up and ate the worst pasta I've ever made*.

And I haven't made that sauce since.

Last night, I was preparing to make my carbonara. It's a delicious dish, soon to be featured here, that makes way too much for just one person and thus makes wonderful leftovers to take to school. And, as I opened the freezer to pull out my pancetta, out falls my little bottle of aniseed.

I am excited.

Giddy, even.

Now, I've opened my freezer since last November. I use it quite frequently. Yet, all this time it was sitting in there, I couldn't find it. And, for some reason, I never got around to buying more.

My mind immediately went back to that last red sauce I made, how uninspired it felt. I could do better. I can do better. And I did.

Thoughts of carbonara flung to the floor, I ran (well, ok the kitchen is smaller than my desk. Let's say enthusiastically turned) to my spice cupboard, pulled out everything I needed, and made a meal.

In my enthusiasm, I forgot the garlic.

You know what? It was still grawlixing delicious.

Also in my enthusiasm, I forgot to take pictures. But, I had some leftover sauce, so here's a picture of the pasta I boiled this afternoon to finish it off.

Mmmmmm.

*Worst I'd made to that date. I tried making my carbonara with only a fraction of the red pepper flakes recently, in an attempt to make it palatable for those who cannot tolerate the spicy. That holds the current title for worst pasta I've ever made thank you very much. Grumble grumble.

Either or

2009-07-13T20:07:00.003-07:00

Some people believe in coincidence. Some people don't, and say that everything that looks like a coincidence is the hand of God. I am somewhere in the middle.

Some events push you one way or the other. Today for example. I'm driving along, on my way to school listening to a mix Sparky made for me years ago. Press play on the song below. This song comes on. Nice strings, hooray. We have some dissonance as I pull up to a stoplight. It stops and goes into the verse. Right then, a girl wearing a teal sundress comes up to the crosswalk. The kind of girl you daydream about. And, when the song hits the chorus, she crosses the street right in front of me. What a walk.

Guarded By Monkeys - Cracker

[for more Brown Sharpie, click here]

Disclaimer

2009-07-11T23:39:00.000-07:00

Often girls get the impression that I am wanting to date them. They are usually wrong. My current plans and intentions do not involve entering into a romantic relationship with you. While this is unlikely to change, it may as a result of concerted effort on your part. Or possibly overconsumption of Stilton. In the meantime, please do not confuse overtures of friendship and common courtesy with a rabid pursuit of your lips.

That is all.

[for more A Softer World, click here]

2009-07-11T13:47:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting in class, deep in thought. We're discussing something that doesn't require much of it, but I'm thinking anyway. When I think, I tend to furl my brow. Also, stroke the beard. At that point, I was twirling my mustache (yes, I need a trim shut up).

It's at this point that I look down and see a girl twirling her mustache.

Of course, she could have been twirling something else; I never saw a mustache. I'm told that mirroring a person's movements indicates some sort of attraction, but that frightens me so I'm not going to think about it.

[for more Nedroid Picture Diary, click here]

Screaming heebie jeebies

2009-07-09T10:43:00.003-07:00

Arg!

You know that horrible feeling you get when you get out of the shower, realize you put your towel in the laundry basket, step out of the bathroom to get a new one, and are hit by a wave of cool, air-conditioned air that feels like a Scandinavian rejection in winter? I hate it so m...

Wait, that's the worst thing I have to complain about this week?

um.

Life is good. That is all.

[for more Misery Loves Sherman, click here]

There's not much there

2009-07-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

I went to the store Thursday to pick up (yet more) fresh basil. I was also running low on flour, and was planning on making six doughs when I got home, so I bought some of that.

There's only one store I like to buy my basil from. I buy it there for two reasons. The first: their basil is the freshest. The second: you can get a basil the size of your head for just one dollar.

So naturally I'm walking through the store, ignoring all the overpriced everythingelse. One thing made me stop. This store has a cheese section larger than some of the liquor stores I patronized as a teenager. I walked around, looking at the huge variety of snooty cheeses and thought 'I can do this! I can be a cheese ~~snoot~~ snob too!

But, I don't know much about cheese. I want to start at the top, though. Tell me in the comments, dear readers. What is the snootiest cheese you can think of? I want to eat it.

[for more F Minus, click here]

in which manliness is proved.

2009-07-01T22:05:00.002-07:00

So, today, I noticed I had an ingrown hair. Nasty, right? Well, I was having none of that. And, since I discovered I have no tweezers, only one viable option remained.

I pulled that sucker with needle-nose pliers.

[for more work by John Campbell, try pictures for sad children by clicking here]

We've got fly-bys in the safe haven: Alert the PFN and deploy the Astaire.

2009-06-24T20:56:00.006-07:00

Let's talk about graffiti. Especially the kind in the men's room.

Today, as I was on my way home, I stopped in. And I saw a message written in ballpoint. It read:

~~For a nasty [insert sexual favor here], call [number scratched out, but it was only 9 digits]~~. I have a nice rool.

That was the only one there. Well, there was another something, but it was barely visible under a coat of paint. Now, there's the right way and the many many wrong ways to do it.

First off: It has to be funny.

When I was in the MTC, there was a ton of graffiti in the stalls. And it was all boring stuff like "Woo Argentina Rocks!" and "E. Skittles wuz h3re!"

Not funny. You can do better.

Next: Be original.

We all know the trite lines and poems. No more! If you don't know how to start without one of those, change it up at the end. How about a:

Here I sit
broken-hearted.
Tried to [poop]
but whoops there it goes nvm.

Or just try something new.

Next: Know how to write.

Spelling and grammar are your friends! I know it's not "hip" to coherently convey a communique, but really. I'm not saying you need to live up to the standards of JAMA, but at least the New York Post. [zing! -ed.] Seriously, rool? ROOL?

That is all.

[for more xkcd, click here]

This things I believe

2009-06-20T16:13:00.002-07:00

I remember a debate going on about whether Texas is part of the West or part of the South. I will let others say that they are mutually exclusive, but I will not. Instead, I will settle part of the debate once and for all.

I was at the store. I was looking for a fan because Old Blowy died. I was walking past the movies section, where I heard someone say:

"I need to git me one o' them barkin' dogs."

That is all.

[for more Overcompensating, click here]

I hear the avocado is delicious.

2009-06-19T10:00:00.002-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I'm a moderately superstitious person. I don't typically subscribe to your typical superstitions, though. I like to invent my own.

Take an incident: Katria and I are out to dinner. We're eating at a fancy hamburger chain. We're having a good time, and are about to move on to the next activity of the night. We climb into Matilda. I put the key in the ignition. I turn the key.

Click, hum.

Click, click, hum.

Click, hum, click, hum, click, hum.

Click, click, click, click, click, hum.

Hmmm.

At some point in these many attempts I expected a chug, or at least the engine to turn over once or twice. Alas, it didn't.

Which, of course, resulted in taking the bus back to Katria's and having her drive me back to my car, so when we get Matilda towed we at least have one working car there with us. Click, hum again. I call the tow truck. He shows up.

Apparently I'm not a very good parker when it comes to getting a car towed. Matilda was in one of a few spots in the lot where the truck couldn't easily pick her up. TowGuy maneuvers his vehicle around, and I think it'll be easier if I can drive my car to a better position. On a whim:

Click.

Whirr.

Rejoice, oh heavens and hear my song. I can't contain my laughter. We thank TowGuy and he goes away.

Skip ahead two days: I've taken Matilda to the shop. I'm convinced she needs a new starter. They call me and tell me she runs fine and there were no problems. Of course I don't believe them, so Katria takes me down to show them.

There we are, far overdressed for the occasion. CinderGuy tells me that it started fine three times when they were checking it out. I'm slightly irritated, either at CinderGuy for not knowing how to turn on a car properly (Am I out of touch? No, it's the world that's wrong) or the aforementioned heavens for toying with my car-related emotions. I sit in the car. I put in the key.

Click, hum.

I get out, CinderGuy gets in.

Click, hum, hum.

"Yeah, that's your starter all right."

The one commonality between these occasions (and the other, unmentioned intervening times in which Matilda refused to work properly) was easy to spot. Katria.

I don't know. Would you call this worthy of a new superstition?

[for more Wondermark, click here]

Bacodogs

2009-06-18T19:18:00.004-07:00

Let me tell you about something amazing.

This is one of my favorite meals for two reasons. The first and obvious one is that it involves bacon (yum!). The second is that it takes a bunch of mediocre ingredients, mixes them with bacon, and turns them into something magnificent.

Here is how you begin.

Fry some bacon! One slice per dog is enough. Get it crispy.

This is the most important step; the entire dish hinges on this. If everything else goes wrong but you do this right, it'll still be tasty. Booch this and you fail at life.

That's right! Fry the hot dogs in your bacon grease. Mmm mmm mmmm good.

Here we have everything you'll need to make your bacodog*.

You start by mayonnaising your bun. Note: it must be a bun; a slice of bread will not cut it.

Crumble on your bacon.

Hot dog liberally.

Sprinkle on your sharp(!) cheddar.

Apply dill relish,

a squiggle of (spicy brown) mustard,

and a line of ketchup.

Then you eat it.

So there you have our delicious monstrosity. I must admit, I was skeptical when Mr. TheCow brought this recipe back from the Dominican Republic. I tried it; I loved it: it had bacon.

*Well, you don't need Mr. Bacon, the salt, pepper or Dublin Dr. Pepper bottle. They just help.

634-5789

2009-06-09T17:02:00.000-07:00

An excerpt from a phone conversation I had today:

Me: Yello.
Her: Is that all you have to say for yourself?
Me: No, I can say other things too.
Her: Oh, that is it.
Me: It is?
Her: We are through. You're such a [grawlixes].
Me: Aww, is that how it's gotta be, baby?
Her: Don't even start.
Me: Seriously. I can change.
Her: I've heard that before.
Me: I mean it this time. You say it, I'll do it.
Her: I want to believe you, but I can't.
Me: You can this time, baby. I'll do better. We can work this out.
Her: You really gonna try?
Me: Of course I am, [Katria].
Her: [Katria]? Who's [Katria]?
Me: Um, my girlfriend. You're not [Katria]?
Her: You stupid [grawlixing grawlixes].

So, to whoever you are in Pennsylvania, I am sorry. However, I suspect you need more practice working your telephone machine.

[for more Garfield minus Garfield, click here]

It started as dog food and went downhill from there

2009-06-05T11:55:00.003-07:00

Today, I couldn't decide what to cook for lunch. I was going to do tacos, but when I opened my freezer I saw I still had a pound of bacon left. This raised the difficult question:

It was between tacos and spaghetti. I mean a Vimes. The entire point of this blog post is to tell you about Vimeses. A Vimes is a type of BLT, one where you have "to lift up quite a lot of crispy bacon before you [find] the miserable skulking vegetables. You might never notice them at all." One where you never have to worry about having too much lettuce (i.e., some lettuce).*

After a brief and unanimously decided poll, I ate 3 Vimeses. Mmmm.

[for more Nedroid Picture Diary, click here]
*Thud!, by Terry Pratchett

Signs and Portents

2009-06-03T00:22:00.001-07:00

As I drove home tonight, I saw something unusual. Off in the far distance to the north, there was lightning. Lots of lightning. I counted for a minute, and there were 148 bolts that I saw. And that was just the side of the storm I could see.

After a few miles, There started to be lightning to the south. Lots of it. Slightly less than the clouds to the north, but still fun to watch (or would have been if I hadn't had to drive).

I stopped for some honey-roast.

When I got back in the car, there was lightning all around, just not where I was. It was north, it was south, it was east and west. I was surrounded. Still, it seemed there was a 30-mile diameter hole in which there was no lightning, and I was right in the middle.

The wind howled.

As I drove east, the circle seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. The lightning was closing in.

Then the rain started.

I have never driven in such heavy rain for so long. Only this wasn't your typical rain. It also involved a mild rain of frog (I wasn't hallucinating that croaking sound when there was a thunk on my roof, I swear) and me having to slow down to 25 mph just to see the road.

All in all, it sounds like the Kaiser had his baby. And that baby is the antichrist. Did you, Kaiser? Is he? It would explain a lot.

[for more Perry Bible Fellowship, click here]

MEANWHILE, IN TUDOR ENGLAND!

2009-05-29T12:38:00.002-07:00

So, I don't normally post while I'm traveling, but this was too, um, Chase-ish to omit.

My brother graduated from Law School, and we all went to graduation. On the flight back, I took a nap. When I woke up, there was the Southwest guy walking down the aisle with a handfull of peanut packets in his hand. I indicated my desire for peanuts with eye contact and a raised index finger. I expected to get a couple packets. Instead he threw about a dozen of them at me. Not handed, threw. And then other people started throwing them at me. For the next five minutes, every time I stopped paying attention WHAM! more peanuts.

This would be a bad thing, maybe, but it was honey-roast. Mmmm honey-roast.

[for more Frazz, click here]

Goodbye and Farewell

2009-05-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

Seldom in our lives, we come across an association that is truly important, a relationship that moves us further and farther than we can comprehend, a friendship the loss of which causes us to weep. Today is a day we recognize these special connections.

They say that you don't notice what you have until it is gone. This is not the case. When something so special enters your life you can't help but take notice, and you stand in awe. This is how we feel ... this is how I feel about Stella.

She had her troubles, her share of back luck. I remember stepping out of that office and seeing the scrapes and bruises along her right side, and I remember my look of terror and helplessness that accompanied. I will never forget the day there was a scream and a thunk, and the look of terror on the maintenance guy's face as the oven he was moving rolled along Stella's right side. I remember the drive across the salt flat where my passenger rolled down the right window and we couldn't get it back up, the deafening howl of the wind and putrid stench of salt (well, mostly salt) overwhelming our senses. I remember the squeal and the crunch that took her from us.

As sad and as strong as those memories are, we can't forget the good times: I remember fixing that window with my bare hands; I remember driving to countless restaurants, bakeries and taquerias; the long drives down windy roads; the blinding dust storm in western Texas; the music; tearing down the road with the windows down, singing above the freezing wind.

And I remember her the way she was, the way she wanted to be. Shiny, new, beautiful. From the moment I saw her, I knew I had to have her. That first day, that first drive, were a kind of magic. She was enticing me further and faster, and I couldn't help but comply. Yet, she settled down before things got out of hand. She loved having fun and pushing her limits, but had the sense to restrain herself when it was appropriate.

Though you met a sad end, Stella, that is not how you will live on in our minds.

You were always waiting for the next road, the next mile. Now you've found it. We'll miss you.

If only they were more like Lawrence...

2009-05-16T07:23:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about getting a GPS. Well, that and a Kitchen Aid, but we'll conveniently ignore those for now. And well, readers, I can't lie to you. I'm a little against the idea.

My biggest complaint about GPSs is that they aren't human enough. I'm not talking uncanny valley, but something worse. It "doesn't make mistakes". You never hear the GPS apologize to you. You never have it tell you "In 500 feet, turn left. No, right. No, left. I was right the first time." Its directions almost always make sense. It never tells you "In about a mile, you'll see a goat with a hat. Turn there. If you don't see the goat, turn where the goat would have been."

If you can find me a GPS that works like this...

[for more Dinosaur Comics, click here]

I have talents, I swear.

2009-05-15T00:09:00.002-07:00

So, I've been sitting here at the computer for the last hour with my headphones in and no music playing.

This isn't all that remarkable until you realize that I've been fiddling with how they're in my ears to make them more comfortable.

[for more Hark! A Vagrant, click here]

Lime green is a good color.

2009-05-14T10:07:00.003-07:00

As I've mentioned here before, I tend to remember my dreams quite well. Sometimes they are your typical acid trip of barely connected scenes, but more often they have coherent plots and dialogue.

Which brings me to this dream I had last night. And, well, the night before that. And probably a couple dozen times in the last month or so.

A few years ago, I lived a few apartments down from a good friend. A good friend who was always trying to kill me. I mean, the very first thing she did upon meeting me was try to kill me. Hot. I've had my share of death threats before, but hers were really good. They were always creative and subtle. Since she moved away, I've missed the feeling of the sword of Damocles hanging over my head.

Well, this dream I've been having is somewhat related. I'm going somewhere, through someplace (the last five I remember are the Sahara, downtown Salt Lake City, the top of a hill in Walnut CA, a disused military installation in Marin County, and the sewers in Paris) when I run into a friend. Usually, we then run into more friends. Then a girl I used to be interested in walks up to me, impales me on a pike and walks away. Meanwhile, I'm screaming (internally. It's hard to really scream when you're wearing your own guts for garters) that this isn't how it's done; it lacked finesse; there's a dance, of predator and prey, and just walking up and impaling me on a pike and leaving without any gloating ignores the dance.

Well, I've had portentous dreams before (as has anyone who remembers their dreams. You've got to be right once eventually), so after the tenth time the dream repeated I started wondering whether this was one of them. Is someone going to start trying to kill me again? Am I going to die? Will you, my reader, finally get to live out your dream of tapdancing on my grave?

It turns out I was right. And wrong. Yes, portents : no, murder. Well, no me being murdered. Stella's on life support at the moment, and we're currently discussing whether to pull the plug. I could use some pie.

[for more Daisy Owl, click here]

In response to the media

2009-04-30T16:28:00.001-07:00

http://doihavepigflu.com/

That is all.

[for more Tiny Ghosts, click here]

Ach! Dooks!

2009-04-28T23:03:00.002-07:00

As I've mentioned before, I've lived quite a life. That game where someone says "I've never done X," and if you have done X you get a point? I've never lost.* I firmly believe that I could successfully argue that there are normal septagenerians who haven't done as much as I have.

Combine that with the fact that I've had to give up on a lot of hopes and dreams to get where I am today, and I really don't have much to complain about. (Dream remaining: get a disease named after me. And there's not a whole lot I want to do to further that dream.) I'm generally happy where I am, but sometimes all those forgone dreams make me a bit elderly.

Just this last Sunday, I had the wonderful experience of getting preached at. I don't usually like to mention religion, but this is exceptional. If I were to distill the sermon, delivered by a guy about my age, into a couple sentences, it would be: According to a holy man, I am going to Hell because I am still alive. This is due to the fact that if I were even remotely righteous, I would have died some years ago.

The word "whippersnapper" may just have floated through my head, along with the words "durned", "consarnit" and "Irishman".** I wasn't feeling much like loudly interjecting that things don't work the way he averred, so I didn't. Still, I was surprised that he hadn't experienced enough to see his misunderstanding. I mean, it was a pretty obvious mistake. Whenever that happens, I start to feel my age. In dog years.

I swear I'm not that old. Nevermind my midlife crisis last year. I'm still young and hip! Kid's still say hip, right?

[for more xkcd, click here]

*I've never danced for pennies on a streetcorner. It's true! I get quarters.
**I found out later that he was part Irish, so my befuddled ramblings were actually relevant. No orphans this time.

in which onions are considered inferior.

2009-04-21T12:32:00.005-07:00

Procrastination is an artform. It's not just laziness. It's laziness combined with ingenuity and possibly some kind of pork. To all of you who have read through the entire run of a webcomic in order to avoid, I don't know, a performance evaluation at work, I present:

I don't want to study anymore. It's gotten to the point where I don't even care if I finish my degree, so long as I don't have to study this class one more time. I did it all yesterday, I don't care that I'm halfway through. In avoiding schoolwork, I decided to do laundry.

I hate laundry day.

So I'm avoiding my laundry too. It's sitting about ten feet away from me, just waiting to go out the door and to the laundry room. It has been for some time now. Why? Because I decided to do the dishes instead.

I hate doing the dishes too. So, I tidied up all of my apartment except for the kitchen. Oh, and between all this I cooked, registered for classes, wrote everything I could possibly think of scheduling on my calendar, cleaned my scheduling board, packed up a box, and put all the empty hangars in my closet in the same spot. In reverse order.

When it started, it was a nine-layered procrastination effort. I haven't done that much procrastination since, well, ever. I think there should be some kind of medal.

Oh, and then I started blogging to avoid even more. And I put on 6teen Stone in a strange fit of nostalgia. When my friend stopped by, she had no idea who it was. And that makes me feel old.

[for more Sheldon, click here]

in which a new feature is unveiled.

2009-04-15T14:40:00.008-07:00

Some of you are aware of my quest to become a passable cook. And, as I mine the rest of my life for stuff to blog about, why not this?

Tonight: Pizza

My current favorite flavor of pizza is margherita. I discovered why recently. As a being who hates tomatoes and everything they stand for, I just love that burst of flavor you get when you bite into a diced tomato on a pizza. Add in some fresh basil, mozzarella, spices, it's delicious!

However, I just knew I was going to booch it. Kind of like I did the other night, when I didn't put enough cornmeal on the bottom of the pizza, and half the crust stuck to my stone. So, I had to give you a before picture. See? Up there? Isn't it so wonderful and uncooked?

Here's where the trouble comes. Sliding it off the peel and onto the stone. Also, off the stone and back onto the peel. I still haven't quite figured that out. Also, I've been having trouble getting all the cheese to melt by the time the dough's done cooking. After all, the oven only goes up to 550. Today, I thought I'd try turning on the broiler when I put the pizza in. Disaster!

I lie. Success! Isn't that a beautiful pizza?

Delicious too.

in which Marty says something to Doc and gets red-carded.

2009-04-13T21:57:00.003-07:00

One of the "benefits" of looking for work is the fact that I have more downtime than I should. So, in my attempts to find something to do while waiting for callbacks, I've wasted more time than ever. The first thing that comes to mind is streaming internet television. More on that later. Most relevant is the fact that I sat down and reread much of this blog.

Can I say yikes?

I'm surprised you readers have lasted this long. Some of the more obscure posts have me scratching my head and wondering what kind of acid trip that was. There are some I'd like to delete but won't. After all, I'm a lazy lazy man.

[for more Basic Instructions, click here]

in which the dignity of nerd holidays is impugned.

2009-04-08T06:02:00.001-07:00

I was asked the other day what my favorite food is. There's the obvious answer, my one weakness. I paused for a second and realized that that, however, is not my favorite. While that is the most delicious and the only food I can't resist, there is another food I prefer:

Pie.

This is where it gets weird. I can resist pie. I can go days, even months without pie. Pie is my favorite for different reasons than most people use for a food being their favorite. I love pie for what it symbolizes.

Pie is a food of celebration. It's a food of mourning. It isn't a food of the middle ground. It's something special. Pie is a ritual.

I feel like I'm divulging the most sacred of secrets when I say this. Many of my best recent memories are of pie. I remember nights and afternoons, when the world had ended. The sky fell and there was nothing, until a voice rang out saying "That's it, we're gettin' some pie." Sitting around a table with friends, eating a pie I didn't have to make, sharing our occasional successes and catastrophic failures, this was life. It was pie.

Which is precisely why I can't have pie every day. Pie is special. Pie every night for desert, while tasty, would be bad. Even just once a week would ruin it. Pie is something that has to be earned.

So please don't get mad if I refuse an idle pie. The truth is, the deliciousness of a pie has little to do with the pie itself. It has to do with what's around it.

[for more Wondermark, click here]

in which hypocrisy is revealed.

2009-03-23T11:25:00.001-07:00

In a wild contradiction of my previous post's style, I hereby declared every post longer than one sentence should have a tl;dr at the end. Compound sentences count as two sentences.

tl;dr - Ha! I have no redeeming qualities!

[for more Terror Island, click here]

In which Bobby Day is rejected.

2009-03-16T21:43:00.001-07:00

Today is an excellent illustration of why I don't use twitter, and why I never should. If I had tweeted my day, here's how it would have gone:

-Sleep.
-Sleeeeeeep.
-Come on, sleep.
-Ooo. A cat.
-is getting Sammie declawed at his earliest convenience. Ouch.
-Sleeeeep.
-Is that Ma getting ready for seminary? Crap.
-Hee hee. Good Devil, Uffish. Another!
-While your bowlin' Napoleon was good, I would prefer not to have died.
-G'ahhhh... too early for think much. Sleep back to be going.
-CableCarcablecarcablecarcablecarcablecar.
-Crap. Why does no one tell me they closed? I loved that place. I guess I have to go to the Quik Stop.
-Woah! Donuts! And nasty cheap cocoa! Hooray
-realizes he likes nasty cheap cocoa because that's what he drank every morning his senior year of high school.
-Wait. They make flights to Burbank that have stops? Weird. Who flies to Burbank?
-Ooo. Cute girl in other security line. A wink and... she blushed! Success!
-Adding a miniskirt to your power suit does not make you more persuasive. Nice legs, though.
-I can not get on that flight! Some guy was wearing the same shirt as me. Oh wait, the same shirt I changed my mind about wearing. Sucker.
-Five points! SecurityGirl was on my flight, and she sat next to me!
-Do you smell salami?
-I smell salami.
-Oh crap! Is it me?
-Oh worse crap! Is it her?
-It's the guy who thinks he can become me by wearing my shirt. Ew.
-So, both her and my headphones have been in a while. Dang, I'm not getting any flirting here. At least my elbow's warm.
-Free at last! Except for some reason they made me walk through secret airport passageways to get to my connection. Huh.
-Slot D! Ha! Now how can I bug the Kaiser about this?
-Weird. Some girl just grabbed my hand, then looked at me and said "Oh! Sorry, instinct." Wha?
-Crap. She's on my flight.
-Disregard that crap. Despite the weirdness, she's hot.
-An entire aisle to myself! Hooray.
-Blocked again. A fat latino with a MarioStache and a teenager sat in my aisle. And she even came all the way back here looking for a seat.
-It frightens me to learn that the left wing is being held on with chewing gum.
-Gum's still there
-Gum's STILL there.
-Oh Southwest I forgive you and your gummy wings. Mmm, HoneyRoast.
-I know I've seen a line that shape before. Is that the MexicoFence? Crap! I'm a fugitive in Mexico, and I'm in their airspace!
-Man that's an ugly state.
-Uuuuugggglllly.
-Oh, they're oil fields. Still ugly though.
-Gum's still there.
-Those who refer to this place as God's country must be using a contraction, leaving out the letters F O R A K E and N.
-I know that lake! I'm home (almost)!

And so on. See, it's a good reason I don't go there. Aren't you glad?

[for more A Softer World, click here]

One last moment of peace

2009-01-15T06:56:00.002-08:00

Let me tell you, that stuff to drink is nasty beyond comprehension. There are five different preps I'm aware of, and they all leave you hoping you'll die before the next time you have to drink more.

That's how I spent yesterday. I'm currently waiting for my folks to finish getting ready. I leave in a few minutes to head for the hospital, get my IV put in and then I can relax. In a few hours, Elmo will ride again.

[for more Pickles, click here]

Bonus!

2009-01-15T06:51:00.000-08:00

As a bonus until I get back from the hospital, here's the colonoscopy saga from Pickles.

Timing is everything

2009-01-08T13:11:00.006-08:00

I have a bit of a curse.

I get headaches now and then, which is a half-truth. They're all exactly the same, so it would be more accurate to say I get one headache repeatedly. It's bad. Horrific. Painful enough to be disabling. And the only thing that fixes it is Aleve. One dose of that and the headache is gone.

That, of course, isn't the curse. The curse is the fact that I get that headache, without fail, before every surgery. That wouldn't be a problem, except the prep for my surgeries involves not being able to take Aleve the week before surgery. This inevitably leads to a few remarkably painful days.

I was lucky this time, though. I got my headache last night, and my surgery is (due to hesitant surgeons, sluggish insurance, and bad test results) on the 15th. I had twenty minutes left in which I could take Aleve. Since I have never gotten two of these headaches in a week, I now don't have to worry about it again!

Hooray me.

[for more Frazz, click here]

2008-11-24T00:20:00.002-08:00

I just realized I'm becoming an adult. How? There are exactly zero cinder blocks in my apartment. All I need is a lawn to take care of (and complain about) and I'm all the way there. Also, to not be held together by small pieces of rubber, glue, and baling wire.

On a related note, I'm done with school for the semester (two whole weeks early!) and am anticipating a long, painful trip either Cleveland, OH or St. Pete, FL to get a few replacement parts. I'll leave in the next couple weeks. Hopefully to St. Pete. There probably won't be much posting once I'm gone, as I doubt they have internet access for me wherever it is I end up staying. Even if I do, only the most morbid of you (and werty) would be interested much in what's going on.

[for more My Extra Life, click here]

That scene is eerily familiar. They even got the hair right.

2008-11-12T03:07:00.001-08:00

So, there are going to be a few major changes coming up. The biggest one involves the loss of a few more organs. Hopefully this will happen early January or sooner. More details as they come.

[for more Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal, click here]

Relief at last

2008-11-07T10:29:00.001-08:00

Thank goodness the election is over.

I lost, as was expected. Unfortunately, I wasn't even mentioned on the news. This means none of you did your job in voting for me. Seems like you didn't want to "throw away your vote" or somesuch nonsense. Good job!

The worst part of this election was the fact that people personalized things far too much. Being from California, some of this was understandable, though. If you vote for Obama, you love terrorists. If you vote for McCain, you're racist. If you vote for Prop 8, you're a homophobic bigot. If you vote against Prop 8, you hate God. If you vote against that bill requiring chickens to use their legs, you enjoy making little rich girls cry. And so on. What most people I talked with during the last few months didn't realize was this: if I cast my vote differently than you do, it's not a personal attack, it's an expression of my opinion. Try to remember this next time you vote.

2000 was the first election I really cared about. I remember a lot of my associates then saying "If Bush wins, I'm going to Canada." I heard a lot of the same thing in 2004, mostly from the same people. I heard "If McCain wins, I'm going to Canada" once this election. I'm not sure whether I can base that on the fact that I've grown up (which is debatable. At very least, I've gotten older) or people have gotten more common sense. I'd like to believe the latter is true, but I just can't. The thing that amuses me is that I've never heard a Republican claim that if the Democratic candidate wins, he's leaving the country. This goes to show Democrats tend toward more fiery passion on political issues, or they're more fond of hyperbole and ultimatums in their rhetoric. Of course, this can make them more fun to watch, too.

[for more of The Adventures of Dr McNinja, click here]

Tuesday! Tuesday! Tuesday!- Plant! Plant! Plant!

2008-11-02T16:50:00.001-08:00

I heard the two most amusing political sentiments of the season today. They were both on Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! The first was: Sarah Palin (or the GOP in behalf of Palin) spent around $150,000 on wardrobe. How long has it been since the convention? Honestly, if you can't dress yourself for less than $1,000 per day, you shouldn't be allowed anywhere near the national budget. The second sentiment was about the result of the election, that the best-case scenario is a fade to black, and then Hillary waking up next to Bill, turning on a light and saying "Honey, you won't believe the dream I just had."

On a related note, I am glad for daylight savings time to be over. My sleep schedule has been very screwed up since it started in March this year, and it's magically normal again. How is this related? When I'm elected President, I'm doing away with daylight savings time. I will make it a crime. That's right, the best-case scenario above is really the second-best-case scenario. To get the best, vote Chase.

[for more garfield minus garfield, click here]

Stabby stabby, part 6

2008-10-10T20:23:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm back and at least partly awake. The result was better than I had honestly expected.

I'm going to sleep now. Surgery, even if there isn't much cutting, is tiring.

[for more F Minus, click here]

I was almost thinking Norbert. Or Hooch.

2008-10-09T00:04:00.001-07:00

I'm always amazed at how fast kittens grow. Why, mine seems to be at least three times larger now than he was yesterday. I just need to think of a name.

As for his personality, he's wet, smelly, and exaggerates both at inopportune times for me. Suggestions?

[for more wiki's lessons in life, click here]

If you aren't afraid, something's wrong with you.

2008-10-06T00:39:00.002-07:00

This Friday morning, I get to drink congealed and reconstituted nastiness. Then, after things I'm deliberately neglecting to describe and you should thank me for the omission, I go to sleep. Then I wake up, then I go to sleep again (probably). Man, I am not looking forward to that taste. Wish me luck!

[for more Overcompensating, click here]

He just needed a hug.

2008-09-30T17:20:00.001-07:00

Isn't it odd? You have a bad day. A really bad day, and it's been going on for most of the week. You hit that point where you should be laughing. I mean, really laughing. I-got-my-car-stuck-on-a-rock-and-told-people-I-have-a-jack-in-my-trunk-and-so-they-left-and-someone-took-the-jack-out-last-night-and-oh-did-I-forget-you're-sixteen-so-you-aren't-about-to-call-your-parents-because-they'll-take-away-your-keys-crap-what-do-I-do type laughing. But, that laughter doesn't come. It sits there and stews and stews.

Yet the second you tell a friend that your week has been rough and start into some details, the laughter starts. It's not that misery loves company : people simply need people. So, stop hiding. Go say hi to someone you haven't talked to in a bit. If you approach people with the assumption that they're having a hard time, more likely than not you'll be right. And if you let them share with you, they'll be happier and you'll be happier.

[for more Simulated Comic Product, click here]

If it were a different competition.

2008-09-20T23:51:00.000-07:00

Last political thought for the day:

I just saw a video that showed Obama dancing on the Ellen DeGeneres show. I am now convinced that he is the reincarnation of Sidney Poitier (1:18-1:25).

Man, I'd rather see Sir in office than any of the real candidates. That is all. Vote Chase.

Why I hate politics.

2008-09-20T14:29:00.001-07:00

I used to be very political. I picked a side, supported it, campaigned for it, and was happy. Then I did some research into that side, found it full of hypocrisy and proposed legislation that would harm me directly. I switched sides. I enjoyed my new side, then researched it some more and found it full of hypocrisy and proposed legislation that would harm me directly. So I quit politics altogether, with the exception of being a registered voter in California.

There are a few issues coming up in November that are important, though. It's incredibly hard to get real information about any of them. California's Prop 8, for example. When I ask the Pro-8 camp about the differences between domestic partnerships and marriages, they tell me the only difference is the name. I've been to the Anti-8 camp's main website; they write that they are different and that domestic partnerships are inferior to marriages. What they don't do is specify how. I wrote them an email several months ago, asking for them to explain what specific legal rights domestic partnerships lack when compared to marriages. I still haven't heard back, but my mailbox is now littered with Anti-8 advertisements.

Either side could be lying to me. The Anti-8 crowd's refusal to answer (or even acknowledge) my question tells me that it's them. That is what irritates me the most. I wanted information so I could make an informed decision (I even said that in the email I sent). Political campaigns seem to want uninformed voters. The McCain-Palin campaign is outraged that Palin's email was hacked. Never mind the fact that it was used to keep hidden gubernatorial business that would be subject to FOIA requests were it conducted using the government email system. The emails should have been public in the first place, and the hackers exposed what we should have already known.

The Republicans aren't alone in this, though. The Obama-Biden campaign's attack ads on McCain range from misleading to outright lies. Granted, the same can be same for McCain-Palin's ads about Obama, but still. Politicians seem to thrive on misinformation and secrecy. That's why I hope in this upcoming presidential election, you'll vote for me. If elected, my first act will be to kill the whole lot of you and burn your town to cinders. At least I'm honest about it.

Then again, look how far honesty got Ron Paul and Dennis Kucinich.

[for more Perry Bible Fellowship, click here]

Me and Caspar Weinberger are gonna beat this thing.

2008-09-18T20:28:00.001-07:00

Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet? No. Not, as Bart points out, if they were called Stenchblossoms. The Japanese have well-established that presentation is important to a dining experience; the better your food looks, the better you expect it to taste and thus the better it actually tastes.

Where does that put you and me? Our destinies are shaped, in part, by our names. Our politicians tend to have normal names. Is there some predictive value in naming? Will every child names Jeeves or Giles end up as a butler? A few cases: for some strange reason, there are very few Bryans (but strangely not Brians) that I get along with. According to a few of my friends, I will not have success in trying to date a girl whose name starts with a letter. Why?

I'd like to blame it on my name. After all, my middle name means "a schoolteacher's old hairy jacket, now severely discolored by chalk dust, ink, egg, and the precipitations of unedifying chemical reactions". Quite a handicap to start with, eh?

[for more pictures for sad children, click here]

Restraint, and the proper way of applying them to people you don't like.

2008-09-08T21:04:00.001-07:00

I just finished the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde. It's a great series! I've mentioned to several of you that I'd like to see a well-written first-person recent novel. These are some, and I recommend them to all of you, although reading them in order may be more entertaining than the way I did it.

The following is a spoiler in the sense that this happened in the book, but it shouldn't really give away anything. In the penultimate book, Thursday is speaking with a character named Admiral Zhark. Zhark is complaining that the author of his book is going to have him killed because people keep bugging the author to write more Zhark books, and the author hates writing them. I should have seen this as foreshadowing; in the last book, Fforde destroys the universe. Does he do it the way he said he would? Maybe. I'm not telling. I have to say it was the most unsatisfying ending, next to the Harry Potter series, I've read.

Why did Fforde do it? Then again, why did he pick back up the story twenty-five years after the last novel? After all, Something Rotten closed wonderfully and tied up all the meaningful loose ends. The series could have ended there. I suspect that Fforde was plagued with requests to do more Thursday novels and decided to end them then and there. For shame, rabid fans, for shame.

Then again, he's writing another (although the synopsis indicates it takes place in another universe) with Thursday5 as the lead character. Go figure.

[For more WE THE ROBOTS, click here]

It's like a punch to the face from 1,423 miles away.

2008-09-07T21:39:00.001-07:00

I've discovered something interesting. There is a common thread between my rebuttal in the Miller Paper War, my essay on Futurism, and the letter of intent I submitted with my grad school applications.

In addition to them being examples of my very best writing, they were all written when I was angry. I was angry about: the Miller Paper War, futurism, and the fact that I had to write a letter of intent, respectively.

[For more Creatures in my Head, click here]

You're gonna hate the next verse.

2008-09-06T12:35:00.001-07:00

Originally, the post I'd attached to this comic was a whiny, normative rant about human interaction. In summary: I got some unexpected bad news two Fridays ago. While this news really wasn't that unexpected or bad, it threw me into an introverted snit. Said snit is mostly over. And now that I think about it more, that news was actually good, because the unpleasant eventuality would only occur with my consent.

None of that matters now, though. Why? There are ants attacking my bathroom sink. They need murdering. I'm off to find the most painful bug spray in town.

[For more Dinosaur Comics, click here]

With hair like a duck's bottom.

2008-08-29T22:58:00.001-07:00

Man, sometimes I feel an awful lot like the guys on the left. Too often I'll be out with married friends and they will refer to each other as "my husband/wife". For example, I'll be out with Sparky and Emily when Sparky will complain "My wife slashed my Alligator Jaws budget in half," while Emily is sitting right there. Ok, that never happened. Sparky and Emily are good about it (Emily, you should slash his Alligator Jaws budget. He's been taunting me) but you get the idea. For many other couples, part of me wants to scream out that I knew you both as individuals before you got married, and that I don't think of you as "X's husband/wife", I think of you as You.

This tends to slow down and stop the longer a couple has been together. Perhaps that's why people find newlyweds so tedious. Think about the people who always bring up their favorite politician or TV show; it's annoying. I can understand that you're excited that you're married. Yet, finding ways to bring your spouse into the focus of every conversation is tedious.

It may just be that I'm being bombarded by this lately: only two of my closest friends are single. That being said, the next conversation where a friend says the words "my wife" in three out of four consecutive sentences, I'll be forced to stop and ask a question.

You've said "my wife" a lot lately. I'm worried. Have you forgotten her name?

I turned on my oven, and now I smell candy.

2008-08-26T15:41:00.001-07:00

I keep meaning to write on here more, but the second I sit down I lose what I was going to write. As such I haven't written anything, allowing you to miss on such wonderful topics as humidity and toothbrushes.

One interesting thing I saw today was a bumper sticker which read "Proud member of the vast right wing conspiracy". The guy was driving a beater, too. I haven't laughed that hard in half an hour.

Preconceptions

2008-08-04T20:53:00.000-07:00

Texas and I have always had a sort of love-hate relationship. When I lived in Utah, there were very few Texans I actually got along with; the rest I hated with a passion rivaling that of chili for me. Contrary to any logical reason I almost moved to Texas in 2002. Avoiding that mistake cost me dearly.

Here I am, slightly more than six years later, in Texas. Before April this year, I never would have thought I'd be here. I still had my prejudice toward Texans, a prejudice based upon seven years of sad experience. During the long drive across western Texas, my prejudice was reconfirmed and my dread for the upcoming year grew.

Then I arrived in Austin. It flatly contradicts any opinion I had formed. I'm told this city is nothing like the rest of the state and I am glad for it. Granted, I never thought I'd pray for a hurricane to hurry up and get here so the weather wouldn't be so hot. There are good people here, but that in itself is not enough to make me love the place.

What is enough? My supermarket of choice bakes and sells fresh tortillas right next to a sushi bar. You can get the premade, slightly-stale stuff, or you can be like me and place an order with the sushi lady. I love you, sushi lady. You too, tortilla lady.

Classic film and literature

2008-07-30T19:35:00.001-07:00

The Disney cartoon Alice in Wonderland truly must have been animated in a different era. Compared to the standard Saturday-morning cartoon fare, it really isn't quite the acid trip the novels appear.

Rules and Resolutions

2008-07-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

I've discovered a wonderful thing about my rules. They're nigh-infallible. Well, you could reasonably go so far to say they're infallible due to Rule #5, my catchall exemption* clause. I've never regretted following my rules and almost always regret breaking them or invoking Rule #5, which only shows I'm horrible at estimating personal risk.

I've mentioned my rules here before. As many of you know, a few years ago I sat down and wrote out all the rules that seemed to govern my life, as well as the ones that probably should. I have dating rules and social rules and driving rules and prioritization rules and more. They range from the simple** to the complex***. Very few rules (only seven) have numbers, as I've only gotten around to codifying the major ones. Why do I bring this up?

In my recent move, I've gotten to know a lot of new people. And, in the course of meeting them, I've met a few that I'd like to date. More accurately, I've met a few that I normally would have liked to date, but I am not even going to try any time soon. Five to be exact.

I've made a resolution (which if it goes well [and it looks like it will] will be made into a rule) that simply says I'm not allowed to date anyone until I've gotten to know the area and people here reasonably well. This is an especially good thing, because previous indicators I would rely on don't work here; hypothetically, what would normally appear to me to be a strong come-on may be just common courtesy and what would normally appear to me to be horribly offensive may be "witty" banter. Regardless of what is what, until I get my feet under me socially it would be foolishness to look for anything more than something between casual and good friendships.

I mentioned that it looks like this will become a rule, although in that stage I'd find more elegant and exact wording. Why does it look like it will succeed? Of the five people I'd have initially considered here, three have already been taken off the list. After this very short while, they've exhibited behaviors (among other things) that I find repugnant. This surprises me, as my first impressions are usually remarkably accurate. Specific people I've met in the last three days are the only ones left on my "If only I was even half-interested in a relationship" list and will likely be off it by next week. It's unbelievably relieving not to have to worry about it.

*"If you think there's a two-thirds chance you can get away with something, it's worth a shot."
**Rule #17: "Never use buzz-words like paradigm except in an ironic sense. And yes, I see what might appear to be irony here and no it's not."
***Rule #4 has too many corollaries and allowable exceptions. I think I have fifteen, but I left my Moleskine in California and thus can't check the major ones.

The Secret

2008-07-14T18:40:00.000-07:00

I have discovered the secret to happiness. My secret to happiness, at least.

Interstates with eight lanes.

That is all.

Something I noticed while furniture shopping

2008-07-05T10:18:00.000-07:00

Skub.

Are you for or against it?

Untaping boxes: part three

2008-07-04T18:11:00.001-07:00

G'ah! Can't I eat at one stinking restaurant in this city without later regretting it?

Untaping boxes: part two

2008-07-04T07:42:00.000-07:00

I have noticed things! Texas, what's the deal? [/Ryan North]

I've been wandering around Austin, trying to find furniture and crap. My first night in my new apartment, I had no bed. Hooray sleeping on the floor! Also, hooray I now have a bed! It is very nice.

Yesterday, I left around 10 to go furniture shopping, as my only furniture was: my magic stool that I brought from California, a bed, and a TV stand. Around 3:30, I was getting frustrated. The only things I'd found that I both wanted and could afford were four plates and four cups. I am a shopping failure.

I stopped by my friendly neighborhood Goodwill (it's right across the Walmart from my church), where I've become friends with the staff. I stopped in, we chatted a bit, and I noticed that they didn't have any furniture I could use. Sure, they had two good office chairs, but as I didn't have a desk... yeah.

I went across the street to the Walmart. I was upset that after now six hours of shopping I still only had four cups and four plates. I was going to buy some cheap plastic drawers, and at least I'd have cobbled together a dresser. There I found a desk, a dresser, and a real chest of drawers for 100 bucks. Hooray! I now have a desk. The other crap still needs to be constructed, but I have them. Hooray!

But, what I was originally thinking of writing about before that lengthy tangent, the freeways here are strange. I've called my mother several times for directions, and she's been confused by them. For example, to get to IKEA, I first have to turn right onto I-35 N, merge left onto I-35 N, drive a while, then exit right. After exiting right, I merge right onto I-35 N, then I turn on whatever street IKEA's on. Any of you who've driven in Texas understand completely how this works. Any of you who haven't, probably don't. The difference is that you've got the freeway, I-35, which has frontage roads that are also highways that are also I-35. Ma, pay attention to that.

Also, the speed limit is wonderful. My comfortable driving speed gets me arrested in California. The speed limit is 80 here. I love that. The speed limit drops to 65 at night. I don't love that, but it makes sense. There are signs along all the freeways saying "Don't mess with Texas". Official, white, government highway signs. This makes me laugh a lot. The signs continue with something about littering fines, but that doesn't matter.

The only other thing I can remember having noticed is the humidity. It's really not that bad. The problem is that when you start sweating, because of the humidity, you don't stop. Also (I'm not sure if this is humidity or pollution in the humidity), the air is sticky. It's sticky enough that I, a morning-showering person, have had to begin bathing before I go to bed because I feel sticky by the end of the day, even if I haven't exerted myself.

So, is Texas the greatest place on Earth, as the locals claim? The locals have been very kind and welcoming (well, for the most part. More on that later, the stupid teenagers), and there are things I do like about the place. I, however, have yet to be convinced.

Untaping boxes: part one

2008-06-29T23:09:00.000-07:00

A paraphrased conversation from the trip, occurring near Coalinga:

Mr. TheCow - Is that a puffin?

Me - What?

Mr. TheCow - You know, a puffin! Over there.

Me - Um...

Mr. TheCow - Never mind. It's a water spigot

Mr. TheCow claims he was referring to a ceramic puffin. Right.

Taping boxes, part 3

2008-06-25T00:13:00.000-07:00

Today, I began packing in earnest. I learned a few things, chief among them: when I moved back to Vacaville, I had to buy a new wall charger for my cellphone. As one person, who tells me she doesn't read this thing, can recall I got a cheap, poorly-fitting charger that slowly began to not-work. I had to $40 replace it. I found the old charger today, the one that I thought I'd left in Utah. It was right where I looked when I couldn't find it.

I also found out that God especially loves me, because I found room for my popcorn air-popper in the box with all (gasp!) my spices! Also, I found out that I can't say the phrase (gasp!) "my spices" without adding the gasp or the exclamation mark.

And lastly, I've been looking at WALL-E. I just saw my first trailer for it, after hearing some buzz on NPR. He reminds me a bit of E.T. But, do you know who he reminds me even more of?

Man, I love that movie. I know it's just a coincidence, but it makes me laugh. It's another incentive to go see WALL-E for me.

Judicial Revue. Sha la la.

2008-06-13T00:03:00.000-07:00

An article published yesterday about two cases in front of the Supreme Court (Boumediene v. Bush and Al Odah v. United States) says, essentially, that the Supreme Court would like to uphold habeas corpus, even for the folks detained at Guantanamo (whether you want to call them terrorists, enemy combatants, or political prisoners). The gist of it, as I understand from skimming through, rather than analyzing, is that some sort of charge has to be laid on the detainees in order to continue detaining them. Hopefully these charges must be reasonable.

Now, I read this on Slate. This means there's considerable bias in the article. One thing stuck out to me: it was a 5-4 decision. Who dissented? Justices Scalia, Roberts, Alito, and Thomas. It would be easy to blame G. W. Bush because the Justices he nominated are supporting his administration's actions, but that was only half of the dissenting vote. Frankly, the idea of a government willing to dispose of habeas corpus frightens me; that's just one more step toward tyranny. The fact that almost half of the Supreme Court wants to get rid of it frightens me to no small degree. Washington D.C. has already become a police state. What is next? Someone please tell me I misread the article, or at least tell me what those court decisions really mean.