So yeah, concuming a crappy cellular communication contraption.
Yesterday I recieved a contusion from a folding chair to the face. I'll explain when the picture is uploaded to facebook and I get a chance to swipe it.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Penny
Currently Listening To: Hurt You by the Sounds (it's on repeat)
Today's adventure begins whilst our hero, the dashing Clive Dangerously, was perusing the newspaper, wherein he spotted an ad from Target advertising some mad-crazy deals on CDs. Realizing that there were at least two he would be delighted to purchase, Clive ponders how to come about obtaining such an item. "I've got a bowl of change downstairs! Surely that's enough" Problem solved.
Right?
Obviously not. I was talking with some folk at Sunday School today and Kelly said that they're phasing out the penny because it costs more to make than it's worth (costs 1.4 cents, worth .98). Then I started to feel bad because so many of my precious coins are pennies, and if they're going to be worth more soon, why throw them away? I eventually decided it would be justifiable to cash in the change at coinstar and moved on.
But later I looked it up on wikipedia and saw some interesting stuff. Obviously the loss of the one-cent piece would complicate things, but there is a solution: rounding. Purchases made in cash are rounded to the nearest ten-cents, like math. Pretty simple. Sure, you lose a few cents here and there, but never more than three. And you can gain up to two cents, so... It's cool. Go for it.
The two CDs are Kaiser Chiefs' Yours Truly, Angry Mob and the Mika CD, which I'd guess is called Mika. Makes CENTS.
Today's adventure begins whilst our hero, the dashing Clive Dangerously, was perusing the newspaper, wherein he spotted an ad from Target advertising some mad-crazy deals on CDs. Realizing that there were at least two he would be delighted to purchase, Clive ponders how to come about obtaining such an item. "I've got a bowl of change downstairs! Surely that's enough" Problem solved.
Right?
Obviously not. I was talking with some folk at Sunday School today and Kelly said that they're phasing out the penny because it costs more to make than it's worth (costs 1.4 cents, worth .98). Then I started to feel bad because so many of my precious coins are pennies, and if they're going to be worth more soon, why throw them away? I eventually decided it would be justifiable to cash in the change at coinstar and moved on.
But later I looked it up on wikipedia and saw some interesting stuff. Obviously the loss of the one-cent piece would complicate things, but there is a solution: rounding. Purchases made in cash are rounded to the nearest ten-cents, like math. Pretty simple. Sure, you lose a few cents here and there, but never more than three. And you can gain up to two cents, so... It's cool. Go for it.
The two CDs are Kaiser Chiefs' Yours Truly, Angry Mob and the Mika CD, which I'd guess is called Mika. Makes CENTS.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
CRAZY BITCH
Currently Listening To: Hurt You by the Sounds
Some crazy woman keeps calling me. Well, not calling me, but calling our house, and I'm the only one who picks up. She's looking for my mom and I'm all, "my moms not hear call bak l8r, sk8r. kthnxbai" and then she's all, "Indeed." Then she calls back 15 minutes later and I say to her, "yo btich she aint got time 2 ghet home yet". So now when the phone rings (and it always does at our house because we're super popular) I run upstairs to see the caller ID, then run back downstairs and pick up the phone to make sure it isn't her.
Some crazy woman keeps calling me. Well, not calling me, but calling our house, and I'm the only one who picks up. She's looking for my mom and I'm all, "my moms not hear call bak l8r, sk8r. kthnxbai" and then she's all, "Indeed." Then she calls back 15 minutes later and I say to her, "yo btich she aint got time 2 ghet home yet". So now when the phone rings (and it always does at our house because we're super popular) I run upstairs to see the caller ID, then run back downstairs and pick up the phone to make sure it isn't her.
I'm ready MISERY right now. It's another non-supernatural Stevie King book. It's really good. But it's from the school library. Two things:
- I get the impression that no one ever checks those books out, because I walked up to the check-out desk and had to actually say, "I'd like to check out a book." I thought it was just understood, but no.
- Whoever had the book last appeared to have played with the book more than read it. There are little notes (and not for like a book club or something, but notes to people) spread throughout the book and I found a few pages (next to each other, of course) with holes in them. Burned into them. Wow.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Why Show Support By Actually Doing Something When You Can Make A Half
Currently Listening To: Atlantis To Interzone (Crystal Castles Remix) by Klaxons
I was pondering this while roaming the Magic Kingdom, and was reminded while perusing myspace today. The thing that reminded me on myspace was a bulletin I saw about loving your mom. That's a good cause, right? Moms do a lot of work, and they need a lot of appreciation, most of which they don't get. But the last line had something to do with "If you don't repost this, you obviously don't care if your mom dies or not". TOTALLY unnecesary. You got this nice, "always consider what your mom does for you" little piece of glurge, and then BAM! The obligatory repost threat. I cannot, cannot, cannot stand the repost threats. I don't care if I'm threatened with a year of bad luck, eternal damnation ('appreciate Jesus' posts) or 'you don't love your mom' hanging over my head, it just gets old. That is the one thing that keeps myspace from achieving interweb greatness in my mind: the plebes.
...But that's not the worst. What REALLY got me on about this rant is the Red campaign. You've probably seen the (red) shirts and iPods and countless other goodies you can buy. I will say, the idea behind Product Red is incredibly noble and worthwhile. Fighting AIDS and malaria and TB in Africa is a great cause. But everything else they stand for isn't. And when I say "everything else they stand for", I mean "being a stuck-up asshole in love iwth him or her self". People who own these shirts and iPods and whatever else get the feeling, upon recieving the item, that they and they alone have just saved the world. While the rest of us were just sitting on our asses reading whiny diatrabes on the internet, these people were out there making a difference; these people BOUGHT A T-SHIRT. That means they care. Oh yes, they care. Caring isn't directly donating money to these causes, no sir! You do not care unless your money goes to two places. Ten percent goes to these dying children in Africa, while the rest fuels sweatshops in southeast Asia (those kids don't matter) and the pockets of the shareholders of the GAP and Apple (and yes, I a ma hypocrite, considering I own products from both). So while you sit there in your living room, these people are doing something: they're sitting in THEIR living rooms wearing t-shirts.
If you need a product to make more tangible the fact that you care, you're in it for all the wrong reasons. Charity isn't meant to be trendy. It's meant to be charitable.
And in much less important/relevant news, I was rudely forced to update several accounts today. Both my blogger and my flickr accounts forced me to update to the most current... things. The beta thingy. What can I say, I tend to resist change. Frustration abounds. I'm not sure how I feel about this new Blogger.
I was pondering this while roaming the Magic Kingdom, and was reminded while perusing myspace today. The thing that reminded me on myspace was a bulletin I saw about loving your mom. That's a good cause, right? Moms do a lot of work, and they need a lot of appreciation, most of which they don't get. But the last line had something to do with "If you don't repost this, you obviously don't care if your mom dies or not". TOTALLY unnecesary. You got this nice, "always consider what your mom does for you" little piece of glurge, and then BAM! The obligatory repost threat. I cannot, cannot, cannot stand the repost threats. I don't care if I'm threatened with a year of bad luck, eternal damnation ('appreciate Jesus' posts) or 'you don't love your mom' hanging over my head, it just gets old. That is the one thing that keeps myspace from achieving interweb greatness in my mind: the plebes.
...But that's not the worst. What REALLY got me on about this rant is the Red campaign. You've probably seen the (red) shirts and iPods and countless other goodies you can buy. I will say, the idea behind Product Red is incredibly noble and worthwhile. Fighting AIDS and malaria and TB in Africa is a great cause. But everything else they stand for isn't. And when I say "everything else they stand for", I mean "being a stuck-up asshole in love iwth him or her self". People who own these shirts and iPods and whatever else get the feeling, upon recieving the item, that they and they alone have just saved the world. While the rest of us were just sitting on our asses reading whiny diatrabes on the internet, these people were out there making a difference; these people BOUGHT A T-SHIRT. That means they care. Oh yes, they care. Caring isn't directly donating money to these causes, no sir! You do not care unless your money goes to two places. Ten percent goes to these dying children in Africa, while the rest fuels sweatshops in southeast Asia (those kids don't matter) and the pockets of the shareholders of the GAP and Apple (and yes, I a ma hypocrite, considering I own products from both). So while you sit there in your living room, these people are doing something: they're sitting in THEIR living rooms wearing t-shirts.
If you need a product to make more tangible the fact that you care, you're in it for all the wrong reasons. Charity isn't meant to be trendy. It's meant to be charitable.
And in much less important/relevant news, I was rudely forced to update several accounts today. Both my blogger and my flickr accounts forced me to update to the most current... things. The beta thingy. What can I say, I tend to resist change. Frustration abounds. I'm not sure how I feel about this new Blogger.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Tattoo--Sort Of
I got bored during my history exam. Moreover, I had run out of steam and lost my focus, so I was just kind of passing the time (not the exam). I remembered this one time in 7th grade when I played connect the freckles during a boring history class. So there I ams, doing it again, four years later. As I dragged my pen across my tender, supple young arm, I thought to myself, "Gee, this sure does look like history notes. I hope no one sees them and thinks that I'm cheating!" Not a second later, Coach McDurmond, in his persistant not-blinkingness, taps me on the shoulder. I almost died, right then and there, of a fatal combination of magic and a heart attack. He looks at me and says, "Can I help you get focused again?" SAFE.
Our story picks up again once more the next day. I hadn't really put forth much scrubbing effort on the arm in the shower that morning, and at lunch, I found myself at the dots once more. So we're talking (well, everyone else is; I'm doodling) and then I hear everyone say hello to someone. This is followed by dead silence until someone kindly gets my attention. Lo and behold, Mr. McDurmond picks the same sandwich shop we did.
Better a non-bathing hippie than a cheat, right? RIGHT?
Our story picks up again once more the next day. I hadn't really put forth much scrubbing effort on the arm in the shower that morning, and at lunch, I found myself at the dots once more. So we're talking (well, everyone else is; I'm doodling) and then I hear everyone say hello to someone. This is followed by dead silence until someone kindly gets my attention. Lo and behold, Mr. McDurmond picks the same sandwich shop we did.
Better a non-bathing hippie than a cheat, right? RIGHT?
Friday, March 09, 2007
Panda Loses Leg In Bar Fight, Needs Robo-Leg to Bang Mate
Currently Listening To: Shimmy Shimmy Quarter Turn by Hellogoodbye
There really isn't much else to say about this panda. I summarized the article pretty well in the title. But, I will say that if more animals were exciting like that, I might not hate them as much. I mean, that's a pretty effing cool panananada.
I suppose they could try buying a new leg... Oh wait, he lives in China. TRY LOVING FREEDOM YOU COMMIE BASTARD PANDA. STOP MOOCHING OFF OF US FREEDOM-LOVERS.
Exam week is over, which is good. But it also leaves me bitter. Bitter about how awful I did, and continually do, on exams. The fact that I lack the motivation and willpower to put in serious study time is irrelevant. Obviously the teachers at my school are conspiring against me. Perhaps they are a part of the International Conspiracy.
There really isn't much else to say about this panda. I summarized the article pretty well in the title. But, I will say that if more animals were exciting like that, I might not hate them as much. I mean, that's a pretty effing cool panananada.
I suppose they could try buying a new leg... Oh wait, he lives in China. TRY LOVING FREEDOM YOU COMMIE BASTARD PANDA. STOP MOOCHING OFF OF US FREEDOM-LOVERS.
Exam week is over, which is good. But it also leaves me bitter. Bitter about how awful I did, and continually do, on exams. The fact that I lack the motivation and willpower to put in serious study time is irrelevant. Obviously the teachers at my school are conspiring against me. Perhaps they are a part of the International Conspiracy.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Complaint Department
Currently Listening To: Song For Clay [Disappear Here]
Daddy. Few words have the ability to make me cringe in a more dramatic way than this.
Don't get me wrong. Little kids can say it. I avoid little kids, so it's not an issue. But if you're, say, in the double digits... FORGET ABOUT IT. Never, ever say daddy. Don't call your father daddy to his face. Don't refer to him as that when he's not in the room. Don't even call him that in your diary. Never, ever use it. It's like the n-word, but without the whole racial, 500 years of injustice and intolerance aspect. So maybe that's a horrible example. Instead, it's like Fall Out Boy.
But I digress. "Clive, how did you come to this revelation?" My sister said it tonight. I know, that's terrible to get on here and whine about her. But it's not just her. There's this other girl at school who, despite having lived in northwest Georgia her entire life, just like her family for the past 100+ years, has a HUGE Valley Girl accent. And then she calls her dad and says, "Daddy... [pitiful, Zoolander sounding cough] I'm not feeling well, can I come home?" And she does this little head-bop thing and she's got this stupid smirk... "Daddy, can I, like, borrow your credit card?" "Daddy" "Daddy" "Da-" SHUT THE FUCK UP. You're not a character on a popular TV show about bitchy brats who live on the coast. In fact, you're not popular... At all. Give it up. Nyaw.
Daddy. Few words have the ability to make me cringe in a more dramatic way than this.
Don't get me wrong. Little kids can say it. I avoid little kids, so it's not an issue. But if you're, say, in the double digits... FORGET ABOUT IT. Never, ever say daddy. Don't call your father daddy to his face. Don't refer to him as that when he's not in the room. Don't even call him that in your diary. Never, ever use it. It's like the n-word, but without the whole racial, 500 years of injustice and intolerance aspect. So maybe that's a horrible example. Instead, it's like Fall Out Boy.
But I digress. "Clive, how did you come to this revelation?" My sister said it tonight. I know, that's terrible to get on here and whine about her. But it's not just her. There's this other girl at school who, despite having lived in northwest Georgia her entire life, just like her family for the past 100+ years, has a HUGE Valley Girl accent. And then she calls her dad and says, "Daddy... [pitiful, Zoolander sounding cough] I'm not feeling well, can I come home?" And she does this little head-bop thing and she's got this stupid smirk... "Daddy, can I, like, borrow your credit card?" "Daddy" "Daddy" "Da-" SHUT THE FUCK UP. You're not a character on a popular TV show about bitchy brats who live on the coast. In fact, you're not popular... At all. Give it up. Nyaw.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Jalapeno
Wolfing down some peppas at the Dread Rumpus, which actually wasn't all that bad. AND I get to miss school at a later date to go to Atlanta as part of the prize.
Damn, I'm fat. Look at me eat like some kind of pro. Apparently I did the peppers the fastest. It hurt like hell. I've never eaten anything so spicy in my life.
And I slept in a box that night.
Damn, I'm fat. Look at me eat like some kind of pro. Apparently I did the peppers the fastest. It hurt like hell. I've never eaten anything so spicy in my life.
And I slept in a box that night.
After "Fishing"
From the photo shoot of nothing. Props were involved. I was in a compromising situation with some mayonaise, and things went south.
ALL OVER MY BEAUTIFUL FACE.
ALL OVER MY BEAUTIFUL FACE.
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