I now store my pride here.
Thanks Charm City U!
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Lesbian Dog Walkers
If Easy Rider taught us to stay out of the south at all costs, then this should teach us to stay out of Singapore at all costs.
A golf club.
Man, shoot the frickin' thing in the head.
And then put it on a plane with Sam Jackson.
A golf club.
Man, shoot the frickin' thing in the head.
And then put it on a plane with Sam Jackson.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
A list of gripes. Cellularly.
1. The walkie talkie feature on certain cell phones. Square State only saw these on commercials, and thought it was the "cool" way to get business done. So, far I've only seen them in use for people to yell into them "Where you at?" only to have the staticky voice respond, "Where YOU at?"
2. Cell phone conversations in general. I'm not eavesdropping, I'm not stealing anyone's "public privacy." What I am getting is a lot of information that is redundant. Like when the plane lands and I hear the statement 80 times over, "The plane just landed. Yeah. Baggage claim. Okay. Thanks." Or on the Charm City University shuttle, "Yeah, I'm on the shuttle." I've decided I'm just going to start saying obvious things around people and hopefully they'll just assume that I have a bluetooth headphone set so small it fits in my nostril.
I'm writing a blog entry. Yep. Thanks.
3. The Shuttle of dreams destroyed
My choice on the shuttle is listening to a buxom asian girl talk about getting trashed at Fraternity parties and aspiring to be a hip-hop ballerina and wonder aloud why the fuzz off her leopard print stilletos is wearing off("Oh, I know, it's my Se7en Jeans! Tuh-Tah") or the Frat boys busy making mental notes to purchase certain Veterinary substances while clicking on the walkie talkie, "Where you at? Oh. A'ight. Rager. Dude. MCATS. Rich Dads. Wake Stevie. Just do it. Bench press." All this and on top of it the rattling. Everything rattles on the shuttles. I can now see the justification for people medicating themselves with iPods.
4. Girls in love with the character House, M.D.
or by proxy, Hugh Laurie because of his portrayal of the character House, M.D.
The easiest thing to do to snap them out of this is to have the following conversation:
girl: I just love House.
ft: What about him do you love?
girl: Just those analytical powers, and that intensity. His brilliance. His wit.
ft: Do you wish you could call him yours?
girl: Oh, fantasticterrific, do I ever!
ft: Do you think that he would turn off those powers when around you?
girl: What do you mean?
ft: He wouldn't stop being analytical or acerbically insightful. He would use those powers on you. He would analyze your frivolous expenditures at The Gap and Victoria's Secret and pointedly assert how irrational it is to spend so much time fretting over which pipping on the pillows will best tie together your first room out of the dormitories.
girl: No. No he wouldn't.
ft: Yes. Yes, he would.
girl: [tears, swelling of violin] He's a gentleman.
ft: He's a character in a situationally constructed hour.
girl: He's perfect.
ft: Only in your crush-world.
girl: F*** you, fantasticterrific.
ft: I'll still p/u the check, since the concept of equal rights equating to equal responsibility means nothing to you.
girl: Title IX.
ft: Can you haul a 240 lb man out of a burning tank, GI Jane?
girl: What movie is that quote from?
I am not just griping. I am proposing solutions:
1) With the Dems in Charge in Congress, make them outlaw Cellular Walkie Talkies.
2) Get the wunderkinds at MIT to develop a noise cancellation system that exists in the mouth pieces of cellphones that emit a wave to cancel out the user's voice so that one sided public conversations (esp the redundant ones) can be eliminated from bothering tax paying, God-fearing citizens in the greatest country in the world.
3) Blow up the shuttle. Drive it straight into City Hall.
4) Clone Hugh Laurie several million times. Brain wash him to only be analytical of other's besides the one that purchases him (something akin to the programming system in the hit movie, "AI." Say seven words and he'll love you long time and tear everyone else to pieces). Sell versions of him on ebay in time for Christmas and retire a bajillionaire.
2. Cell phone conversations in general. I'm not eavesdropping, I'm not stealing anyone's "public privacy." What I am getting is a lot of information that is redundant. Like when the plane lands and I hear the statement 80 times over, "The plane just landed. Yeah. Baggage claim. Okay. Thanks." Or on the Charm City University shuttle, "Yeah, I'm on the shuttle." I've decided I'm just going to start saying obvious things around people and hopefully they'll just assume that I have a bluetooth headphone set so small it fits in my nostril.
I'm writing a blog entry. Yep. Thanks.
3. The Shuttle of dreams destroyed
My choice on the shuttle is listening to a buxom asian girl talk about getting trashed at Fraternity parties and aspiring to be a hip-hop ballerina and wonder aloud why the fuzz off her leopard print stilletos is wearing off("Oh, I know, it's my Se7en Jeans! Tuh-Tah") or the Frat boys busy making mental notes to purchase certain Veterinary substances while clicking on the walkie talkie, "Where you at? Oh. A'ight. Rager. Dude. MCATS. Rich Dads. Wake Stevie. Just do it. Bench press." All this and on top of it the rattling. Everything rattles on the shuttles. I can now see the justification for people medicating themselves with iPods.
4. Girls in love with the character House, M.D.
or by proxy, Hugh Laurie because of his portrayal of the character House, M.D.
The easiest thing to do to snap them out of this is to have the following conversation:
girl: I just love House.
ft: What about him do you love?
girl: Just those analytical powers, and that intensity. His brilliance. His wit.
ft: Do you wish you could call him yours?
girl: Oh, fantasticterrific, do I ever!
ft: Do you think that he would turn off those powers when around you?
girl: What do you mean?
ft: He wouldn't stop being analytical or acerbically insightful. He would use those powers on you. He would analyze your frivolous expenditures at The Gap and Victoria's Secret and pointedly assert how irrational it is to spend so much time fretting over which pipping on the pillows will best tie together your first room out of the dormitories.
girl: No. No he wouldn't.
ft: Yes. Yes, he would.
girl: [tears, swelling of violin] He's a gentleman.
ft: He's a character in a situationally constructed hour.
girl: He's perfect.
ft: Only in your crush-world.
girl: F*** you, fantasticterrific.
ft: I'll still p/u the check, since the concept of equal rights equating to equal responsibility means nothing to you.
girl: Title IX.
ft: Can you haul a 240 lb man out of a burning tank, GI Jane?
girl: What movie is that quote from?
I am not just griping. I am proposing solutions:
1) With the Dems in Charge in Congress, make them outlaw Cellular Walkie Talkies.
2) Get the wunderkinds at MIT to develop a noise cancellation system that exists in the mouth pieces of cellphones that emit a wave to cancel out the user's voice so that one sided public conversations (esp the redundant ones) can be eliminated from bothering tax paying, God-fearing citizens in the greatest country in the world.
3) Blow up the shuttle. Drive it straight into City Hall.
4) Clone Hugh Laurie several million times. Brain wash him to only be analytical of other's besides the one that purchases him (something akin to the programming system in the hit movie, "AI." Say seven words and he'll love you long time and tear everyone else to pieces). Sell versions of him on ebay in time for Christmas and retire a bajillionaire.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
More on the creative nature of videos. Of film.
Another aspect, is to integrate a legitmate video with parodic content.
reference (my fave version with slow-mo)
a spin off
Or even just creative edit your point.
reference (my fave version with slow-mo)
a spin off
Or even just creative edit your point.
The Beast of Movie Making
Some of my old high school compatriots made this music video, featuring the western regions of the Square State and the guy who prevented me from being the most awesome high school sophomore in the world b/c he asked a girl out to Prom 5 months in advance in a video that everyone thought was a joke - including the girl.
But I digress -
Even more.
I've heard some Charm City Compatriots (compatriots count: 2) say the word "Balls" when disgusted or disheartened. I'm pretty sure my friends and I in said Square State started this, with such deviations as "Balls", "huge Balls", and "Balls on my Balls".
I will lose the hour of sleep I'm gaining trying to figure out how to set my alarm clock back one hour.
This is the Techonlogy Pinch.
But I digress -
Even more.
I've heard some Charm City Compatriots (compatriots count: 2) say the word "Balls" when disgusted or disheartened. I'm pretty sure my friends and I in said Square State started this, with such deviations as "Balls", "huge Balls", and "Balls on my Balls".
I will lose the hour of sleep I'm gaining trying to figure out how to set my alarm clock back one hour.
This is the Techonlogy Pinch.
Two videos
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Technology pinch
I will get you more details later, but I decided to pull an all nighter at Charm City U tonight. I want to go to sleep very very badly, but I do not have an alarm. I need an alarm because I have to go determine 40% of my epidemiology grade in 3 hours or so. "Use your cell phone," you say, but alas, my cell phone alarm and reminder function doesn't work anymore - just ask the epidemiology lecture I missed.
So, my only recourse is to Google "Internet Alarm Clock."
If nothing turns up, I am going to go move the microwave from the faculty kitchen into my office and set the timer for an hour or two.
"Sleep on the kitchen floor like a dog," you say, but I tell no - Kitchen floor's are for sexual debuts, not naps.
I just tried this but alas a pop-up window was blocked, and then additional plugins were required, etc etc.
I'll go sleep on the kitchen floor like a dog - a dirty, mangy, virgin dog.
So, my only recourse is to Google "Internet Alarm Clock."
If nothing turns up, I am going to go move the microwave from the faculty kitchen into my office and set the timer for an hour or two.
"Sleep on the kitchen floor like a dog," you say, but I tell no - Kitchen floor's are for sexual debuts, not naps.
I just tried this but alas a pop-up window was blocked, and then additional plugins were required, etc etc.
I'll go sleep on the kitchen floor like a dog - a dirty, mangy, virgin dog.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
First Term Finals at Charm City U
According to this:
* Uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing or pain in the center of the chest lasting more than a few minutes.
* Pain spreading to the shoulders, neck or arms. The pain may be mild to intense. It may feel like pressure, tightness, burning, or heavy weight. It may be located in the chest, upper abdomen, neck, jaw, or inside the arms or shoulders.
* Chest discomfort with lightheadedness, fainting, sweating, nausea or shortness of breath.
* Anxiety, nervousness and/or cold, sweaty skin.
* Paleness or pallor.
* Increased or irregular heart rate.
* Feeling of impending doom.
I'm having a heart attack. Or maybe the doom is just something I ate. I have made a similar check list for assessing if whether or not one is in love:
* Uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing or pain in the center of the chest lasting more than a few minutes.
* Pain spreading to the shoulders, neck or arms. The pain may be mild to intense. It may feel like pressure, tightness, burning, or heavy weight. It may be located in the chest, upper abdomen, neck, jaw, or inside the arms or shoulders.
* Chest discomfort with lightheadedness, fainting, sweating, nausea or shortness of breath.
* Anxiety, nervousness and/or cold, sweaty skin.
* Paleness or pallor.
* Increased or irregular heart rate.
* Feeling of impending doom.
Beck's new album, The Information, is out and good. There is a track that has the chorus "think I'm in love 'cause I'm kind of nervous to say so" which irrevocably backs up the list just compiled.
* Uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing or pain in the center of the chest lasting more than a few minutes.
* Pain spreading to the shoulders, neck or arms. The pain may be mild to intense. It may feel like pressure, tightness, burning, or heavy weight. It may be located in the chest, upper abdomen, neck, jaw, or inside the arms or shoulders.
* Chest discomfort with lightheadedness, fainting, sweating, nausea or shortness of breath.
* Anxiety, nervousness and/or cold, sweaty skin.
* Paleness or pallor.
* Increased or irregular heart rate.
* Feeling of impending doom.
I'm having a heart attack. Or maybe the doom is just something I ate. I have made a similar check list for assessing if whether or not one is in love:
* Uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing or pain in the center of the chest lasting more than a few minutes.
* Pain spreading to the shoulders, neck or arms. The pain may be mild to intense. It may feel like pressure, tightness, burning, or heavy weight. It may be located in the chest, upper abdomen, neck, jaw, or inside the arms or shoulders.
* Chest discomfort with lightheadedness, fainting, sweating, nausea or shortness of breath.
* Anxiety, nervousness and/or cold, sweaty skin.
* Paleness or pallor.
* Increased or irregular heart rate.
* Feeling of impending doom.
Beck's new album, The Information, is out and good. There is a track that has the chorus "think I'm in love 'cause I'm kind of nervous to say so" which irrevocably backs up the list just compiled.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Oh boy.
I mentioned AJ Hawk and the relationship he has with Norte Dame's Quarterback's sister.
He got drafted.
He got married to her.
In a courthouse in Green Bay.
Que romantica, Hawk.
Rumor has it she was wearing the chimera jersey when she signed the license. The jersey later went for 80 million dollars on ebay, and thrown in as a mystery prize was a grilled cheese sandwich which had the Green Bay G on it, thought to be holy and of course made with Wisconsin cheese.
AJ is the only man in history to record a sack on a brother-sister duo, so, this Bud is for Hawk.
The clip featuring Hawk, Bush, and Bloom (yellow and gold, for 2 seconds)...it is amazing they got into college, given the extensive vocabulary demonstrated in this rivoting piece that shows a lot of huge men running around very quickly.
I hear AIDS is still uncured. However, Reggie Bush's TD draught is not.
Fantastic.
Terrific.
Or, as our friends to the south might type,
Que Gloria.
He got drafted.
He got married to her.
In a courthouse in Green Bay.
Que romantica, Hawk.
Rumor has it she was wearing the chimera jersey when she signed the license. The jersey later went for 80 million dollars on ebay, and thrown in as a mystery prize was a grilled cheese sandwich which had the Green Bay G on it, thought to be holy and of course made with Wisconsin cheese.
AJ is the only man in history to record a sack on a brother-sister duo, so, this Bud is for Hawk.
The clip featuring Hawk, Bush, and Bloom (yellow and gold, for 2 seconds)...it is amazing they got into college, given the extensive vocabulary demonstrated in this rivoting piece that shows a lot of huge men running around very quickly.
I hear AIDS is still uncured. However, Reggie Bush's TD draught is not.
Fantastic.
Terrific.
Or, as our friends to the south might type,
Que Gloria.
I should have
played football.
Why is so much money poured into getting the youth of america stronger and faster so that a ball can be carried on a field?
We could have cured AIDS by now if College Football didn't exist.
This diatribe was inspired by a 48 million dollar workout facility.
This diatribe is in no way related to the fact that my ex-girlfriend wanted me to wear her former boyfriends' linebacking jerseys when we made out or to the fact that she is now dating Jeremy Bloom.
And yes, I put the apostrophe in the right place. She dated an outside linebacker first, then the middle. The same order she uses silverware at her fancy restaurants where she only eats half the meal for which she pays nothing.
Why is so much money poured into getting the youth of america stronger and faster so that a ball can be carried on a field?
We could have cured AIDS by now if College Football didn't exist.
This diatribe was inspired by a 48 million dollar workout facility.
This diatribe is in no way related to the fact that my ex-girlfriend wanted me to wear her former boyfriends' linebacking jerseys when we made out or to the fact that she is now dating Jeremy Bloom.
And yes, I put the apostrophe in the right place. She dated an outside linebacker first, then the middle. The same order she uses silverware at her fancy restaurants where she only eats half the meal for which she pays nothing.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
My Tipless Weekend
Oops, I did it again.
No, no, I didn't let Britney talk her way into letting me loan her money.
I slept in until 2PM on Saturday. I feel horrible...I have not seen the AM hours of Saturday yet since school started. I suppose it is the Science of Sleep - catching up on the weekends of the weeks you are pushed to the max.
Speaking of which, after running and studying at Chipotle, I checked my messages and a friend invited me to see The Science of Sleep at the Charles Theater. She (I have no "friends" who are guys, SanFran) said it started at 9:45PM, and a deft movement of my left arm allowed me to ascertain the time of 9:30PM.
Light rail would not work, and I left my wings in the Square State.
So, I walked up Charles Street as far as I could, and then hailed a taxi.
I had a ten spot out, ready to hand to the driver, and I'd ask for a 5 spot back which would give him a tip and me five dollars.
He drove me for a minute. With lights. A total of 10 blocks.
ft: "How much will that be?"
Cabman: "10 dollars."
In my head, I thought, "What organization in the world exists to protect me from this crap?" I had no time for an answer, so I handed him the ten and got out of the taxi cab. I got into the theater just as the last trailer/preview was ending.
The movie was at least "good" - I need a second viewing to appreciate it fully.
After the film, I used my CIA skills to locate my friend in the dark. She is beautiful so it wasn't really that hard, because beauty shines in darkness. That, and she glows in the dark because of all the phosphorescent tobacco she smoked sophomore year ("my boyfriend at the time was a hipster.")
We went to Club Charles, across the street, to discuss the movie and why people with two first names ought not to be trusted, although I argued that Caffo really isn't a first name.
I ordered a dark and tan, and our bartender, after pouring the tan, mentions that the Guinness is busted.
I left no tip there as well.
I hope to take a picture every time I don't leave a tip, and have as many as this guy did.
No, no, I didn't let Britney talk her way into letting me loan her money.
I slept in until 2PM on Saturday. I feel horrible...I have not seen the AM hours of Saturday yet since school started. I suppose it is the Science of Sleep - catching up on the weekends of the weeks you are pushed to the max.
Speaking of which, after running and studying at Chipotle, I checked my messages and a friend invited me to see The Science of Sleep at the Charles Theater. She (I have no "friends" who are guys, SanFran) said it started at 9:45PM, and a deft movement of my left arm allowed me to ascertain the time of 9:30PM.
Light rail would not work, and I left my wings in the Square State.
So, I walked up Charles Street as far as I could, and then hailed a taxi.
I had a ten spot out, ready to hand to the driver, and I'd ask for a 5 spot back which would give him a tip and me five dollars.
He drove me for a minute. With lights. A total of 10 blocks.
ft: "How much will that be?"
Cabman: "10 dollars."
In my head, I thought, "What organization in the world exists to protect me from this crap?" I had no time for an answer, so I handed him the ten and got out of the taxi cab. I got into the theater just as the last trailer/preview was ending.
The movie was at least "good" - I need a second viewing to appreciate it fully.
After the film, I used my CIA skills to locate my friend in the dark. She is beautiful so it wasn't really that hard, because beauty shines in darkness. That, and she glows in the dark because of all the phosphorescent tobacco she smoked sophomore year ("my boyfriend at the time was a hipster.")
We went to Club Charles, across the street, to discuss the movie and why people with two first names ought not to be trusted, although I argued that Caffo really isn't a first name.
I ordered a dark and tan, and our bartender, after pouring the tan, mentions that the Guinness is busted.
I left no tip there as well.
I hope to take a picture every time I don't leave a tip, and have as many as this guy did.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Burning the Ships
Today, at the metro stop, in big letters a la chalk, was inscribed "EPHE 6:24" which, for those of you using a bible underneath the leg of the table (please get a new table - for safety reasons. There's wobbly, and then there's wobbly):
"Grace to all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with an undying love."
- "Ephe 6:24"
Thought I would share.
So I have bombed two midterms this week, and am currently getting stymied on the take home exam currently next to me. I am going after this weekend with a Cortez like mentality:
Before I go to bed on Sunday I will catch up with all reading. Or skimming. At least my eyes will see every page that has been assigned in the last 4 weeks.
Last night I ordered workout clothes, protein powder, and towels, and had them sent to the school. I'm moving in so that I can move out 5 years from now rather than 1.
"Grace to all who love our Lord Jesus Christ with an undying love."
- "Ephe 6:24"
Thought I would share.
So I have bombed two midterms this week, and am currently getting stymied on the take home exam currently next to me. I am going after this weekend with a Cortez like mentality:
Before I go to bed on Sunday I will catch up with all reading. Or skimming. At least my eyes will see every page that has been assigned in the last 4 weeks.
Last night I ordered workout clothes, protein powder, and towels, and had them sent to the school. I'm moving in so that I can move out 5 years from now rather than 1.
Monday, September 18, 2006
El Hundo and other enumerations
The dashboard says I have a 100 posts on the blog. Fantastic.
I have noticed some nasty little quirks of mine as of late.
1) Whenever I go to eat at a Fast Food restaurant, I may not always grab the tray so that the fries are always facing away from me, but dog gone it, by the time I sit down with the beverage and my niece and the 19 year old fox that joined for me lunch so that she could see my niece for a spell, my fries will always be pointing away from me, and I will continue to awkwardly draw fries from the box out, until getting fed up and turning the tray around 10 minutes later.
2) I was using my computer case to store my computer and my documents in the same compartment. Often, I would unzip the case, take out my documents, start doing work for some marked amount of time, and then I would frantically notice I needed to be somewhere and gather up my documents and then grab my case and go - and my computer would fly out of the unzipped case.
3) I will type "you" instead of "your" in so many emails and other text documents it is worthy of slapping a grandma.
Also, another bad habit: I narrate during class. For instance, there is this gentleman in my class that wears a blazer and you can tell he uses face products and is into whatever the girl is into for the sake of appearing metrosexual. So, whenever he raises his hand, I say in my head "This week on The Blazer" as if he is the star of some TV show and this is the beginning minute of that show. I've gotten quite good at timing my narrator's voice with what he says, gesticulates, and hounds.
The bad thing is now the button is stuck in the 'on' position. Whenever I see him, I say "This week on -The Blazer".
The really bad thing is that I've been known to wear a blazer and it isn't even mine, but a professor's blazer on loan. The same professor I shared a bed with. In a hotel. Away from his wife.
Yeah, the professor is a dude. I will share a bed with a man, but I will NOT wear a woman's blazer.
Terrific.
I have noticed some nasty little quirks of mine as of late.
1) Whenever I go to eat at a Fast Food restaurant, I may not always grab the tray so that the fries are always facing away from me, but dog gone it, by the time I sit down with the beverage and my niece and the 19 year old fox that joined for me lunch so that she could see my niece for a spell, my fries will always be pointing away from me, and I will continue to awkwardly draw fries from the box out, until getting fed up and turning the tray around 10 minutes later.
2) I was using my computer case to store my computer and my documents in the same compartment. Often, I would unzip the case, take out my documents, start doing work for some marked amount of time, and then I would frantically notice I needed to be somewhere and gather up my documents and then grab my case and go - and my computer would fly out of the unzipped case.
3) I will type "you" instead of "your" in so many emails and other text documents it is worthy of slapping a grandma.
Also, another bad habit: I narrate during class. For instance, there is this gentleman in my class that wears a blazer and you can tell he uses face products and is into whatever the girl is into for the sake of appearing metrosexual. So, whenever he raises his hand, I say in my head "This week on The Blazer" as if he is the star of some TV show and this is the beginning minute of that show. I've gotten quite good at timing my narrator's voice with what he says, gesticulates, and hounds.
The bad thing is now the button is stuck in the 'on' position. Whenever I see him, I say "This week on -The Blazer".
The really bad thing is that I've been known to wear a blazer and it isn't even mine, but a professor's blazer on loan. The same professor I shared a bed with. In a hotel. Away from his wife.
Yeah, the professor is a dude. I will share a bed with a man, but I will NOT wear a woman's blazer.
Terrific.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Baltimore Comicon
I was invited to a Comic Book Convention (Comicon) this weekend. It is the reason that I saw a Sonic the Hedgehog on the light rail en route to the Cookoff de Chilicon and the reason that I know that Lou Ferrigno does not wash his hands after using the lavatory.
Which reminded me that a wedding I was at in the Square State, I was chastised for washing my hands post-bladder-relief by a real live cowboy:
"If you wash your hands it means your dick is dirty."
This is from the same man, who, when asked what he was feeling before marrying the girl who was carrying his twin babies, said:
"It's just another party."
Yee-haw.
Which reminded me that a wedding I was at in the Square State, I was chastised for washing my hands post-bladder-relief by a real live cowboy:
"If you wash your hands it means your dick is dirty."
This is from the same man, who, when asked what he was feeling before marrying the girl who was carrying his twin babies, said:
"It's just another party."
Yee-haw.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Pranks
I really want to do this...
I went to the bathroom at Charm City U around 10am. I was at the urinal, and I felt like singing, but DIDN'T. I was glad that I chose not to sing, because when I went to wash my hands (it is a school of public health) I noticed a pair of shoes underneath one of the stalls.
I used the bathroom, the same bathroom, five hours later, and the same situation.
I wondered if it was the same guy stuck on the can. And if whether it was even a real guy - what if it was a mannequin?
Then I had a thought: what if I could put mannequins in every stall on a floor in every men's restroom. Some poor bloke would be running around the 3rd floor with a hand over his butt, contemplating the stairs while he's waiting for the elevator, nervously and repeatedly hitting the down button yelling "c'mon- C'MON".
But, let's adjust for gender -
If mannequins were put in all the stalls for men, men who need to urinate can survive.
Ladies.
A mannequin in every stall in every ladies restroom of a floor would cause pandemonium. The girls would not run around, but would line up outside the restroom. The queues would grow and the members of the queues would get restless, whip each other up via social interaction gossip and dissatisfaction verbiage and a mob would form and they would all charge into the restroom and tear down the stall walls to see mannequins sitting on the commodes...
and piss and dump their panties.
I went to the bathroom at Charm City U around 10am. I was at the urinal, and I felt like singing, but DIDN'T. I was glad that I chose not to sing, because when I went to wash my hands (it is a school of public health) I noticed a pair of shoes underneath one of the stalls.
I used the bathroom, the same bathroom, five hours later, and the same situation.
I wondered if it was the same guy stuck on the can. And if whether it was even a real guy - what if it was a mannequin?
Then I had a thought: what if I could put mannequins in every stall on a floor in every men's restroom. Some poor bloke would be running around the 3rd floor with a hand over his butt, contemplating the stairs while he's waiting for the elevator, nervously and repeatedly hitting the down button yelling "c'mon- C'MON".
But, let's adjust for gender -
If mannequins were put in all the stalls for men, men who need to urinate can survive.
Ladies.
A mannequin in every stall in every ladies restroom of a floor would cause pandemonium. The girls would not run around, but would line up outside the restroom. The queues would grow and the members of the queues would get restless, whip each other up via social interaction gossip and dissatisfaction verbiage and a mob would form and they would all charge into the restroom and tear down the stall walls to see mannequins sitting on the commodes...
and piss and dump their panties.
Names of kids
I was in Chipotle, wondering why my integration by parts was not working when I received the second call within 15 minutes from my sister:
sis: Why didn't you answer my first call - where are you -
ft: I -
sis: What are you doing in May?
ft: I'll be here, at Charm City U.
sis: Oh, well, I wanted to tell you that you're going to be an Uncle again!
ft: Name him "v du".
sis: No.
ft: I -
sis: Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?
ft: Will there be 800 dollars stuffed in the Turkey?
sis: Oh, baby's crying take care. Bye. Love you.
Maybe she would have liked "u dv" or "u v" better.
sis: Why didn't you answer my first call - where are you -
ft: I -
sis: What are you doing in May?
ft: I'll be here, at Charm City U.
sis: Oh, well, I wanted to tell you that you're going to be an Uncle again!
ft: Name him "v du".
sis: No.
ft: I -
sis: Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?
ft: Will there be 800 dollars stuffed in the Turkey?
sis: Oh, baby's crying take care. Bye. Love you.
Maybe she would have liked "u dv" or "u v" better.
On my South-wing Veranda, my Chocolate Lab sunbathes
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
The degradation of friendship
Note: throwing the laundry cap of liquid laundry detergent right in the wash works like a charm. And why am I using liquid like some kind of pansy? Because here in Charm City aka Humidity City, the powdered stuff chunks up unless it is in an airtight gunsafe.
And now onto some news.
My favorite line is "friends now know too much about them."
I wish I was on Facebook so I could protest the following:
1) The use of the word "friend." All 202030984 people "poked" are not friends. They are by and large acquaintances, if that. People you will never meet, and will only know that they love Dave Matthews just as much as you do and hate Starbucks just as much as you do and want a 10,000 dollar Cartier or Bust just like you do.
2) Being on Facebook.
To quote a good movie, "With friends like you who needs friends."
I just joined a We (Heart) Max Fischer group on MySpace, where real friendships are forged.
The line above was typed in Blogger where lonely people whine about the world and fabricate things like joining fanclubs.
And now onto some news.
My favorite line is "friends now know too much about them."
I wish I was on Facebook so I could protest the following:
1) The use of the word "friend." All 202030984 people "poked" are not friends. They are by and large acquaintances, if that. People you will never meet, and will only know that they love Dave Matthews just as much as you do and hate Starbucks just as much as you do and want a 10,000 dollar Cartier or Bust just like you do.
2) Being on Facebook.
To quote a good movie, "With friends like you who needs friends."
I just joined a We (Heart) Max Fischer group on MySpace, where real friendships are forged.
The line above was typed in Blogger where lonely people whine about the world and fabricate things like joining fanclubs.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Two finds
I've been bloggin a lot lately - making up for lost time perhaps.
Find 1: A perfectly good office chair put in the hallway as garbage. Just need to get the cat hair off the seat.
Find 2: Knowledge. I kept putting on the laundry cap back on my liquid laundry container, and soap would slowly ooze out and make everything all gummy. Today, I stared at the bottom of said cap and it said "after use, rinse or throw in wash".
So I threw it in the frickin' wash. I'll let you know how it goes!
-Stay At Home Dad
Find 1: A perfectly good office chair put in the hallway as garbage. Just need to get the cat hair off the seat.
Find 2: Knowledge. I kept putting on the laundry cap back on my liquid laundry container, and soap would slowly ooze out and make everything all gummy. Today, I stared at the bottom of said cap and it said "after use, rinse or throw in wash".
So I threw it in the frickin' wash. I'll let you know how it goes!
-Stay At Home Dad
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