I'm learning to use GIMP after a year of photoshop... the first of my experiments.
This was a pretty abysmal movie, but I thought of a solution to its issues: combine it with Mamma Mia.
But seriously, I paid 21 dollars to see it. That is a shame.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
MY RADIO SHOW!
EVERY FRIDAY!
10-MIDNIGHT!
WVAU.ORG (it's streaming... so we can count listeners...)
Tonight is our first show, and I'm only just now hyping it.
That's how I roll.
10-MIDNIGHT!
WVAU.ORG (it's streaming... so we can count listeners...)
Tonight is our first show, and I'm only just now hyping it.
That's how I roll.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Social Experiments
Currently Listening To: Reruns of LOST on SciFi
Twice today, during conversations with various people, "it" was decided that some aspect of life here at college was just some remotely orchestrated social experiment. The first is my Asian Civilizations class. It meets Mondays and Thursdays around lunch time in the basement of the building with "biology" plastered on one of the columns. In addition to witnessing the major cultures of Southeast Asia, as I student in that class I will witness the complete breakdown and ultimate destruction of the human spirit. Let me explain; our professor is a grad student. She was informed she would be replacing the original professor less than a month before class. The textbook she's teaching from is not available in the bookstore, and it doesn't look likely that it ever will be. She's dependent on student discussion, being that she's ESL and often struggles with words, yet everyone has difficulty getting the readings from the web so we've got nothing to say; Asian Civilizations? More like Awkward Cilences. Anyways, watcher her just stand there is absolutely depressing, and she looks depressed when it happens. Like I said, by the end of the semester, she will be a shell of a person.
The second is one of the many places on campus to get food. "Getting food" goes as follows: you wait in line for your meal. You order your meal. You pay for your meal. You recieve your meal. Then you wait in another line, except that it's not a line, it's an amorphous blob of students clamoring for French Fries. Then you wait some more. When they finally produce the fries, it's like the zombie hoardes, a mad dash for that precious two, three bags of fries. Could this fuster cluck be avoided? Why of course, anyone with an ounce of logic could tell you so; simply give the students their fries with their meals. So the only logical explanation is that it is an experiment devised by the Psychology department to see what lengths to which college students will go to get fries. THE ONLY EXPLANATION.
I just saw a very, very disturbing commercial. Two girls walk up to their father. They've got that "Come play with us, Danny" quality about them. One says, "It's time, dad." Oh God, a period commercial. Wait! Even better; the girl produces from behind her back a box of Rogaine; "You'd make a great catch for some lady."
I'm not even going to dissect this any further, I'll just say that it is disturbing.
Twice today, during conversations with various people, "it" was decided that some aspect of life here at college was just some remotely orchestrated social experiment. The first is my Asian Civilizations class. It meets Mondays and Thursdays around lunch time in the basement of the building with "biology" plastered on one of the columns. In addition to witnessing the major cultures of Southeast Asia, as I student in that class I will witness the complete breakdown and ultimate destruction of the human spirit. Let me explain; our professor is a grad student. She was informed she would be replacing the original professor less than a month before class. The textbook she's teaching from is not available in the bookstore, and it doesn't look likely that it ever will be. She's dependent on student discussion, being that she's ESL and often struggles with words, yet everyone has difficulty getting the readings from the web so we've got nothing to say; Asian Civilizations? More like Awkward Cilences. Anyways, watcher her just stand there is absolutely depressing, and she looks depressed when it happens. Like I said, by the end of the semester, she will be a shell of a person.
The second is one of the many places on campus to get food. "Getting food" goes as follows: you wait in line for your meal. You order your meal. You pay for your meal. You recieve your meal. Then you wait in another line, except that it's not a line, it's an amorphous blob of students clamoring for French Fries. Then you wait some more. When they finally produce the fries, it's like the zombie hoardes, a mad dash for that precious two, three bags of fries. Could this fuster cluck be avoided? Why of course, anyone with an ounce of logic could tell you so; simply give the students their fries with their meals. So the only logical explanation is that it is an experiment devised by the Psychology department to see what lengths to which college students will go to get fries. THE ONLY EXPLANATION.
I just saw a very, very disturbing commercial. Two girls walk up to their father. They've got that "Come play with us, Danny" quality about them. One says, "It's time, dad." Oh God, a period commercial. Wait! Even better; the girl produces from behind her back a box of Rogaine; "You'd make a great catch for some lady."
I'm not even going to dissect this any further, I'll just say that it is disturbing.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Bathroom Finicky
Currently Listening To: My Roommate Listening to Rush
I have a confession.
Prior to college, I was deathly afraid of public toilets. It's just not right; rubbing your ass all over the same piece of real estate as God-only-knows how many other people? It's different at home. I know exactly who uses a toilet there, and I know that they, you know, bathe. Same thing at other people's houses. But public toilets? Fuck that.
Weirdly enough, I'm also comfortable with hotel toilets, even though, well, everyone knows about hotels. You know what I'm talking about. Nightline or whatever and the blacklights. God only knows how many hookers have gotten fucked on that hotel toilet, but still, I'll drop a deuce on it. Or in it, rather. On it is just wrong.
SPEAKING OF WHICH, or rather, BACK TO DORM-SHITTING. Since arriving here at school, I've conquered my fear of public toilets. It was pretty simple. The second day I was here I realized I wasn't going to be able to hold it in until Christmas break. Probably should have anticipated that.
So the toilet itself is no longer an obstacle. I'm still, and likely will always be, uncomfortable with other people in the bathroom. Half the people on our hall are guys*, and that's like 30 or so people, I think? Anyways 30 guys, 4 toilets. Odds are one is in use if you're in there. So lots of times, I go in there, see a closed door and turn right back around. I just can't do it. I don't want to hear other people go to the bathroom, and I don't want someone else to hear me go to the bathroom. It's just not right. And it's weird, because I'm really not all that prudish otherwise, just, going to the bathroom is... sacred.
And this week. Someone desecrated one of those toilets. He dropped a Sloppy Joe grenade in that toilet. People were executed for lesser crimes at Nurmeburg than the atrocity that took place in stall two. It was so bad that the cleaning lady put a black trashbag over the commode, and the next day there was a hole in it. The only way I can concieve of me doing something like that involves being dead at the end.
I could go all day.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Also, I turn 18 in less than a month. Shit. Pedophiles will no longer find me appealing.
*In late elementary school/early middle school, there was a sitcom that took place in a co-ed dorm. I distinctly remember my parents telling me that co-ed dorms were a myth, and yet here I am. TAKE YER LIFE LESSONS AND STUFF 'EM, PARENTS.
I have a confession.
Prior to college, I was deathly afraid of public toilets. It's just not right; rubbing your ass all over the same piece of real estate as God-only-knows how many other people? It's different at home. I know exactly who uses a toilet there, and I know that they, you know, bathe. Same thing at other people's houses. But public toilets? Fuck that.
Weirdly enough, I'm also comfortable with hotel toilets, even though, well, everyone knows about hotels. You know what I'm talking about. Nightline or whatever and the blacklights. God only knows how many hookers have gotten fucked on that hotel toilet, but still, I'll drop a deuce on it. Or in it, rather. On it is just wrong.
SPEAKING OF WHICH, or rather, BACK TO DORM-SHITTING. Since arriving here at school, I've conquered my fear of public toilets. It was pretty simple. The second day I was here I realized I wasn't going to be able to hold it in until Christmas break. Probably should have anticipated that.
So the toilet itself is no longer an obstacle. I'm still, and likely will always be, uncomfortable with other people in the bathroom. Half the people on our hall are guys*, and that's like 30 or so people, I think? Anyways 30 guys, 4 toilets. Odds are one is in use if you're in there. So lots of times, I go in there, see a closed door and turn right back around. I just can't do it. I don't want to hear other people go to the bathroom, and I don't want someone else to hear me go to the bathroom. It's just not right. And it's weird, because I'm really not all that prudish otherwise, just, going to the bathroom is... sacred.
And this week. Someone desecrated one of those toilets. He dropped a Sloppy Joe grenade in that toilet. People were executed for lesser crimes at Nurmeburg than the atrocity that took place in stall two. It was so bad that the cleaning lady put a black trashbag over the commode, and the next day there was a hole in it. The only way I can concieve of me doing something like that involves being dead at the end.
I could go all day.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Also, I turn 18 in less than a month. Shit. Pedophiles will no longer find me appealing.
*In late elementary school/early middle school, there was a sitcom that took place in a co-ed dorm. I distinctly remember my parents telling me that co-ed dorms were a myth, and yet here I am. TAKE YER LIFE LESSONS AND STUFF 'EM, PARENTS.
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