A Full Moon, one moon late

Nicholas Bayle mentioned me, I believe. I believe I fit the description of spurring moments, but I can't recall when I ever had a celery-stick bunny...I named a photo gallery after celery, and I did draw a simple-as-can-be bunny once upon a time (I believe Madeline has / had it), but I never combined the two quite like I combined Apple and Pi, to get...well, so it goes.

I haven't had many, or rather any, opportunities to
spur a moment for quite a while. I was hoping to remedy this with a road trip to Willamette soon, but that has now come down to a question of how soon I can finish my SAS project.

I do greatly enjoy photographing the environment around me. Unfortunately, at the moment, that involves mostly, well, the environment, which is growing less interesting with the development of the Merryman Lots behind my backyard. Those vast expanses of empty sky, serving as a roof over roofs over packed houses, while allowing a view of plenty of sky, don't make the ground too terribly interesting. It's trees that make land interesting.

Don't you think?

The Sexas Chainsaw Massacre

This is the horno that never was, only because we were too lazy to make it. Plenty have written already, but none have [video]-recorded.

I didn't get pictures of the actual horno we saw, but rest assured, they wouldn't have been worth it: An aneurysm is one of those "Ya gotta be there" moments. I didn't get pictures of Kiwi either, which sadden me in hindsight; Julie soaked her tiger's head the first day we got there, and it never dried decently. Matty's bear was Everybody's Favorite Fire Hazzard, and Julie's tiger had water for in its head all trip...shoot, I missed a fire/water combo. Heck, with an earthen animal, like a stuffed potato bug or something, and then...something Windy. That'd cover all the Greek element bases. Actually, for a cabin with six guys in it, it was amazingly non-Windy. But we couldn't get pictures of that either, now, could we?

What follows is the set of 94 pictures I took. I've added a scrollbar to the thumbnails, and, yes, I did put that right next to the main window's scroll bar. While it has the advantage of being short on arm movements required for navigating...it's two scrollbars right next to each other. I'm sure I'll come up with something better later (when I post camping pictures from summer). 'Til then, enjoy!

Coke, Greeners and a Sandwich

First: The sandwich. I cooked the best sandwich I've made this year, before The Daily Show came on: Pugliese bread, and pepperjack cheese laden with the ripped meat of a rotisserie-roasted chicken, grilled to no less than Bronze God-hood.

Oh, man, that was a good sandwich. So good, it gets the Golden Lighting.

And now, for something completely different.

The Evergreen Communications building, home of the campus's Experimental Theatre programs, has a Coke machine. While I've never been in the cafeteria, I believe this may be the only place on campus one could find a Coke. I recall this is quite contrary from …shoot, I thought someone had written an entry on this huge brand-loyalty thing with Coke and their campus, but all I could find was something of Julie's.

Anyway, what better place to have the sole dispensation of the big-name brand Coca-Cola on Evergreen's campus, than the area where the most socially active students gather to create messages to send to the world? Somebody working in the building probably posed that question to him/herself and realized "…Oh dear." Here's some retraction action.

I go to a school with such intimidating students. Fascinating.

Man on the Phone Book

This is an entry mainly for the Olympia/Tacoma dancers who were active in the Oly/T-Town dance scene at least between September '02 and December '03.

This morning, my "Coolest Stupid Moves" sign fell off of my wall. I was already out of bed by then (1 o'clock; not really morning, I suppose), and have taped that puppy back up onto the wall where it belongs, how it belongs.

Well, maybe that's not necessarily how it belongs. The only other "Coolest Stupid Moves" sign that I've seen belongs to a dance buddy from the Jitterbug Club, Oly & Tacoma scenes: Nick, "The Stick." I think we're the only two people who got metal awards for doing Stupid Stuff in the Jitterbug club. He had a little stand for his sign; I'm sure he still displays it with pride in his house, even though he's off in Iraq now.

I don't think anybody has seen Nick for quite some time now, as he's currently deployed in Iraq. I saw a tribute to the military on the cover of the Olympia-area's most recent phonebook. The sweetheart shot in the upper left was a nice touch and caught my eye.

I spent a long time looking at that soldier in the sweetheart shot, because the photo captured a great look of happiness on his face. Also, I thought the guy looked really familiar, as did the woman. Then it hit me:

I -believe- I've seen her, Nick's girlfriend, in a picture in his house, the one time I went there. So, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe Nick has a little fame to him now. I'm glad to see this good shot of him, as compared to another shot that I took in Tacoma (those resourceful enough can find it in a certain dance website's Halloween gallery).

I hope he's OK over there. I also hope he still has enough dancer's spirit in him to triple-step in his off-duty time...damn, did dancing make that man happy.

Best of luck to you, Nick.

Eric

For formatting purposes, this entry has been placed in the Extended Entry field.

This entry is also in the Extended Entry to perhaps force Leah to wait for one more click to see that critter I found a week or three ago. Le voilà, after two tease entries.

Once upon a post-noon dreary, I paced to, fro, entirely bleary; I had hastily quitted the family Garage of Forgotten Floor. While I panted, heat entrapping, suddenly I saw, legs flapping, A creature's silent tapping, tapping ascent of the door. "'Tis some arachnid," I uttered, "flapping-ly climbing the door; Only this, and nothing more." But, suspicion was my habit, for I spied a trait of rabbit; Neither ear nor fuzz was present to allude to a toon's image more, But the word "Cotton" my mind grasped; A spherical image I had clasped; Though initially the reason, reasonable by tooth, no more: For the round and circular appendages to make its fangs more: Dubbed "Cottonfang Eric" forevermore.

Riemann's Reamage, Other Art, and Arts of Others

I found Art with Leah & Cassie a relaxed working environment; it wasn't home so I wouldn't screw off too terribly, and it wasn't [my] school so I wouldn't stare at the wall for any extended period of time. Actually, last time I went to art, that flopped. Screwoff time with Kobar, Leah and Cassie was grand, and Cassie did a portrait of me, so I ended up staring at a pillar for a half hour.

Half-Hour Photo

Only a half hour. Geez, she's good.

Of course, every time I went there Leah and Cassie demanded I paint something and other. I dunno why; it seems to be a strange ritual that everybody in an art room must do art. One of them told me two times ago to "Paint math!" Here was the result of that: The Solar Mallet.

Kobar actually made art with his paper last time. I think his talent shows; what say you?


Tropical Island; on Fire

I could argue that what I doodled out was actually art, since math is art, but I somehow doubted that Leah and Cassie would believe me / care. So, I showed how the Cauchy Principal Value integral is superior to the Riemann Integral when integrating across asymptotes:

Riemann's Reamage

See, Riemann integration is the sum of infinitely many rectangles under a given curve; for 1/x at x = 0, the value is very badly undefined. CPV, though, does what Riemann does from both sides, so the opposite infinities cancel each other out. That's why the CPV integral is a nice, firm 0, where Riemann got, well, Riemed. Title is thanks to the lovely Kobar.

Marcher sous la Lune

It was 10:20 at night. The thermostat still read 73°; no air conditioning meant we took what we got. It was 10:20, but the sky still had a dim hue of blue, in the western trail of day; some clouds even caught orange from two hours from now.

I couldn't sit inside and boil, toiling at either dishes or algebra. I had to get out because it was uncharacteristically warm and bright for so late an hour. I got out, and was met by la clair de la lune; the moon played a part in coloring clouds orange.

So I walked; on Boulevard, without regard for the one manual-transmission car that apparently liked to do everything in first gear. I decided an early morning would demand sleep tonight -- and yet I write; what nocturnal spite -- so cut through a neighborhood to come back to my house via the Amhurst-street neighborhood.

I was amazed at what a lack of trees can show. My house is surrounded by trees, tall timber on all sides, so I have a restricted view of the night sky. Walking through that neighborhood, there were a scant amount of trees and only the occasional 2-story house to block my view. The sky was spectacular; I only wish I had brought a camera.

I had a "Down to Earth" sensation: Sky was a plane, a slice of my vision, inconceivably massive and leaning against some infinitessimal support. The plane was tilted toward the earth, only curving around cylindrically so I wouldn't see a field of nothing behind me. The earth was no longer my house, dwarfed by trees, but dozens of homes with the occasional Douglas Fir or Red Maple serving as beacons of height. If not for the trees, the massive background plane of moon and cloud would have crushed us all; that's how empty the first 200 vertical feet above me felt.

Ah, but I am glad I had nothing to obstruct my view. Moonlight is absolutely wonderful, and I didn't have to give a thought to chills; I love summer nights.

La Clair de la Lune, et ses Nuages

Venez, vous nuits d'été, pour faire les bonnes promenades.

Chalkin'

There's something that seems boundless about writing on a chalkboard. Paper seems too restricted, too consumptionary, too...finite. I always feel dedicated when I start scrawling on a new piece of paper, like I need to use it as wholly and efficiently as possible, else that's one less sheet for the notebook or for the printer.

But on a chalkboard...ah, the space is boundless. If I run out of room on one side, I just move to another board; in the math homeroom, there are 4 chalkboards I can use; it's like a canvas I can use for painting small, subtle strokes, inducing onward; or a surface I can just throw a bucket of paint upon.

Judging by my incredible penmanship -- er, boardmanship? -- my chalkboard activities may be both of those analogies at the same time.

Abstract Algebra's exercises are much easier to do on a space where I can wipe away mass quantities of wrong info at once. The whole left board turned out to be wrong; and there was no wasted paper resulting.

Now, if only there were no issues of inhaling tons of chalk dust every day from the professor's lectures...

To any Pseudo-Foodomologist, I present...

Well, now that the mystery of the "Dragon Ant" has been solved, I present to you this next Mysterious Life-Form...

Filed under Category W, subsection tD.

This yet-unnamed specimen was last spotted on a table of some sort, by a jean-clad leg of some sort, attached to a hungry denizen of the house of that some-sort table. This yet-unnamed specimen was also violently consumed, first by having an eye gouged out and then by losing a part of the upper lip to the ravenous attachment of the jean-clad leg.

Yet he returns at least once a week, before 7 o'clock on a weekday morning, only to repeat the vicious cycle...People. End the savagery. Import Toast from France! Find a blueberry flax cereal! Just save the life of this poor endurer of a re-hashing tale.

To any Entologist, I present...

Once upon an afternoon of yardwork, I walked by a ladder against the garage and saw what I thought to be an ant, winged; "Oh, bloody hell, a Carpenter, just what this garage needs..." Upon closer inspection, this "Carpenter" appeared to have a striped abdomen and...what's that...a tail?! Well, with those elegant wings, I could think of no greater title than...


Dragon Ant

In case anybody believes that the ant is somehow assuming the "Pup Marks Territory" position, I captured the tail in its defining characteristic: It's wagging.


Dragon Wag

Question, to any who can ID bugs: What is it?
On an unrelated note, today marks the beginning of my abuse of the img borders and padding.

Madge

David wrote a heart-felt entry to him and Madge...it was really touching. I suppose Matt was inspired to do the same. So many people have such nice things to say about Madge. ...'cept for me. I like her too and all; I just don't feel like talkin' nice at the moment. So I'll just leave it at saying nothing at all.

...And posting a few pictures of evil Madge in a catfight. I like evil. Tee hee.

________

Note that the first picture's index is 5, but the last one's 16...thus I managed to snap 11 photos of the French class goin' nucking futs while Nuvo and Madge struggled over that piece of paper. And in the end, after I got a picture of those two hunched over the paper [and caught Yarrow, perfectly identifiable by her shoe], the paper was ripped in 'twain. The end.

Quaker, with Bihawk, and My Collegiate Shag

The camcorder my dad got last summer serves as a much better camera than The Mysterious Sock Object. The Sock Object just didn't seem to get up-close depth perception that would be on par with, say...this. It captures excellent
facial details too.

I wish I could say as much for its camcording abilities--or rather, its video-to-comp transfer abilities. Thus far, I've only had success with video transfer once, and I think that that was actually with Aaron's camera (the "Bring Out Your Dead in Dr. Oli's Class," or the "Dr. Newsome Forcibly Meets M. Python" prank). More recent attempts have resulted in sorta crap after video transfer...however, when I do figure it out, I promise a video clip of Damian, a snowman, and some between-the-leg unpleasantries. (That's not a threat, really.)

Until then, there is the option of transferring images from the tape (instead of memory stick) to the comp. That doesn't bide quite so well, though...there's about 1/4 the potential resolution, and somewhat odd colors. Oh well; the camera still serves well for taking bird pictures. Yes, bird pictures. Though I do wish I could get a few candid shots of some tits at some point.

Until then, I'll have to settle for observing odd head patterns with my bird, like head spikes. Sherry seems to have a knack for lookin' badass comin' outta the shower. She even managed to master the Bihawk that eluded me senior year.

I wanted a bihawk before I got some haircut mid-2nd semester...I had a nice, lengthy (for a guy) amount of hair and needed to remove it for the sake of my left field of vision. Well, needed is too strong a word; I actually just got kinda tired of all that extra hair-mass settling itself in odd ways unless I slept on it. (I think my hair looked best on days that I didn't shower, for the record that nobody keeps.) I still kinda wanted a bihawk, just for a li'l while during summer...but then I saw a video clip my dad took during my choral solo. Then I decided:

I didn't much like my Collegiate Shag.

So that's cut away now. I'll miss the wing-ding...if I ever take up art (like, uh, when I'm retired maybe? Maybe I'll finally have time then), I'm gonna draw my head with a wing growing out of the left side. Or, if I'm impatient, I'll see if I can mesh a Power Wing from Mario 3 into my hair...or maybe if Cassie gets bored again I'll ask her nicely. Yeah..."Can't some else do it?" When has THAT philosophy ever gone wrong before?

Oh Me, Oh My, and More O' Me

Krina Allison, a few months ago, told me to lift my leg up, giving a boot-shot for her. With actual pain on my face from keeping my leg up that high while she fumbled with the shutter button and other doodads on her camera, she snapped a photo of me. The shot was in imitation of ...I believe the New Zealand Philharmonic (don't quote me on that), who had eXtreme shots in their pamphlet like a bassist surfing on her double bass, a bass-drum-mallet-swinging dude with primitive warfare written all over his face, and a bald guy who could do a straight-legged kick at a fairly high level.

...Well, at least the grunt on my face turned out pretty well. It looks more like I'm kicking something on the ground, if one thinks about the angle of my leg & all, but it was a good shot. I thought the only time I would see it would be at the fall concert, where SOGO usually lays out a slew of photos from either the annual shoot or rehearsals.

Turns out I'm the front page of next year's advertising/recruitment flyer. That kinda surprised me.

It also turned out I was on something else. At Monday's board meeting, a hundred or two advertising posters arrived at the Allisons.' And lo and behold, a hundred or two copies of me being EXtrEmE.

I think that's the final step towards "Poster Boy" status. Besides seeing me in person, now I'll be on several walls around Olympia...which as far as I know includes downtown Oly (according to a surprised Cassie), the Office of Financial Management office, and SPSCC.

Yes, I just advertised for advertisements. I've been quite recursive lately.

Y2K-era Photography

I think there are maybe eight of us here who remember the Yuriko eCircle thing...I barely remember it, save some picture galleries. Cassie's was...artsy, I think. I know Miranda's had plenty of Johnny Dep and some other quote-hunks-endquote. I don't remember what I had in my gallery, save a couple joke pictures (like "Burial by Elephant Dung"), and "A Mysterious Eye" (en français). I'd lost that picture since eCircles went down.

A couple days ago, I discovered that the old Dell computer that I thought contained nothing useful had my first year of digital photography on it! Glad I didn't wipe it. I've found "A Mysterious Eye" once again, and gladly show it here.

Un Oeil Mystérieux

Unfortunately my camera didn't make its rounds as the Mysterious Sock Object until later that year. So, most of the shots are of me, Neon & Speckles (our budgies, with 3 legs between them) and Damian. Well, I can't say that the shots of Damian are a loss...

As I recall, that scared the crap out of at least Cassie when I put it in eCircles. Does it still retain its charm? All right, I'll wipe that devilish grin off of my face. I have a much better shot of Damian, except for a lamp handle that got in the way. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a shock cut.

UPDATE: Cassie reminded me of what actually did terrify her, so here's another shock cut.

Chez Nelson--Maintenant

("Trimming the Hedges" is coming soon--postponed because Cassie inspired some memorable photographing, and because the Hedges pertain unluckily to Cassie, anyway.)

Cassie had the right idea when she said she couldn't picture my house clean. I still can't, and I've lived in it for the past couple days. Cass, that was excellent word choice you had in your request, too--I think it's safe to award our mess the title of "Spatially-Grand Informationally Symbiotic Life-Form." Since we cleaned out the family and living rooms, I haven't been able to find a goddamn thing.

The living room is now pretty well devoid of "Life." Though there's a good space available, I didn't muck with the computers--just picked up some of the random cables lying on the floor. I don't know how, but there was a television coax cable next to the VAIO...

Behold the living room: Devoid of "Life."

The family room was even better-scoured than the living room, but I didn't take a picture of it until after the Christmas party was over. My mom's office table has moved back into the corner, and some of the "Life" was already growing back. From this next shot, you can tell where the cleaning stopped: We didn't bother tackling the kitchen. It would've been a nice effect, but those counters remain the "Liveliest" of the bunch.

Old mess aside...holy crap. There's space in my house now. I could probably host something! ...We must attain the Lord of the Rest of the Risk soon. If we can do it soon enough, I'll host the war myself. We can use the coffee table in my living room...holy crap. I think I'm going to buy the board tomorrow--swamped mall and overflowing traffic be Damned, I shall get that board! [If someone else has already said 'be Damned' and gotten the board, let me know before I do something silly.]

End of Thanksgiving Hiatus

It looks like I took quite the vacation last week. No math homework, no SOGO writing, no blog writing...I of course had all of the above to do, but just couldn't bring myself to. That's what procrastinating's for.

I got to see Jen three days last week! Seeing her, hugging her, kissing her...those made me feel lifted in ways mathematics couldn't raise me for the past four months. (If ANYONE fields that pun...*shakes fist*) I was sad that I couldn't see her for longer on those days...I guess time with her would never be enough. Spring break is my second exercise in patience at the moment. As for my first...

I said goodbye to Jen Saturday night, behind Jon's car. Besides the sheer romanticism of the moment, I'm sure to remember it by a.) my amazingly luckless ability to embrace her right behind Jon's tailpipe and b.) the Hawaiian tie I had around my head as a bandana; currently my head's ring of happy spots rests below my long-hair line. I was a little listless at Katie's afterwards, but I reminded myself to quit being a heartfelt wussy and wait out the two, three weeks before finals would be over and I could see Jen again. That's my current exercise in patience.

I'm glad to have gotten another picture with her, though; this time, without the antiparallelness of a mid-dip shot.

I also got plenty of photos Friday night, at a get-together at Katie's house. I've sworn that none of them would see the light of day on the internet--but there were a few that I just had to let slip by.

___

And the girls should be done sweating bullets...nnnnnow.

There's one shot that I'm going to put up here just to guarantee that I never have a career in politics. Don't worry, it only pertains to me. Katie and Margot stuck the cat ears in my hair, and thought I looked so girly, there simply had to be a follow-through. Katie supplied the dress; I thought I looked quite good in it, myself.

And now, for something completely different. Good night.

HallowSwing '03

I e-mailed Dave all of the good pictures I took, and they're up on LindyBomb now, under HallowSwing '03. For those of you who were wondering who Nick the Stick is, he's making a pirate impression in the pic entitled "BLLAAARGH." Rick and Julie made an awfully cute couple. In fact, they made the awfully cute couple--they won the couple's costume by default. Their wigs sorta changed heads during the night, though.

That was an awesome night. The costume contest kicked booh-tay, though there were quite a few devils, cats, and floppers (I may have gotten that last word wrong...'20s swing girls is what I mean). I'm surprised that I didn't make it to the finals, though: I made sure to announce my character well.

When my turn to announce myself and my costume came in the lineup, most, if not all, of the people before me just said "I'm [Bob], and I'm a [pirate]" (with appropriate interchangeabilities). I had to work in a crowd-pleasing moment since I think a whole three people actually knew that the big F! on my chest didn't stand for "France!" Enter the basso-voce projection:
"I'm Alex, and once again, it's time for Frenching with Freakazoid!"

I got an awful lot of applause. But I didn't make it to the finals, which was picked by applause. I was sad, until I saw one of the late entries, who rightfully won the contest:

An Asian guy, Andrew I believe, came dressed as Luigi. Green shirt, overalls, a hat WITH THE "L" AND OVAL, and those Goomba-clobbering shoes. Holy crap, the guy was awesome. Though, I didn't get a picture of him...

I didn't get a picture of Dave, either. He dressed up as Run DMC, in a blue jumpsuit, low-brimmed black hat and Tiana's gold chain-belt around his neck. A few of the regulars said "I wonder why Dave didn't dress up for Halloween." I admit, he didn't seem to change his character much =)

The Bed of my Bud

I said a while back that I'd throw up a picture of Rosebud Broadbottom's case. Here it is, with a candid shot of her under her blanky. [The link is to the ginormous source photo.]

I fear that it seems a wee bit narcissistic, since I am not in two of those photos...I think at the same time it shows I interact with people, while at the same time showing too much of me. Oh well. At least I managed to work in my horse from Showdown at Noon o'Clock, and doing not one, but two odd things to a certain Princess.

Rosebud's sleeping right now. I probably should too.

Broken Furnace

I tell ya, there's nothing in the world quite like waking up at five thirty in the morning on a Monday when you're adapted to not even rising at nine thirty on an empty Monday schedule. Well, there is something in the world like it, but even less enjoyable: Waking up and realizing the furnace is broken. Not the fan, just the capability of generating heat.

Damian seemed to have the right idea. Which was also odd to see at five o'clock on a Monday morning.

Super Teen Extraordinaire

Freakazoid! Freakazoid!

Runs around in underwear!

Freakazoid! Freakazoid!

This is what you could be seeing.

Freakazoid! Freakazoid!

Unless something better's on TV.

Freakazoid! Freakazoid!

So there you have it, my costume for Dave's Halloswing Ball, and a party for Friday. As to what party, I have no clue as of yet. But soon, you too can French with Freakazoid^*.

^*Actual cartoon short, no dirty connotations intended [on my part].

A Day at the Beach

One of the days of our camping trip was spent almost entirely at the beach, where there were many pictures taken. This one was the cream of the crop, though: Artistic award goes to Katie for taking the picture, though she made the sacrifice of not being in it.

For those who wanted the picture for a desktop, the thumbnail links to a 300 dpi .jpg.

If you need to ID people, from left to right:
Jim, who I think managed to blink;
Me, clad in swimshorts and keeping my hair out of my eyes with a six-year-old girl's "Fountain" hairstyle, care of at least Katie I think;
Ali, who is so short that her head matches Miranda and Cassie standing a good thirty feet behind her;
Miranda, watching
Cassie chuck a rock in a quite non-skip-patory fashion; and
Aaron, throwing a rock, though it looks like a shoe.

I loved that day. I had never been more relaxed in my life. My state of consciousness was lucid; I had so few cares in the world, I walked around a (previously) crowded beach with my hair like a six-year-old girl. Actually, that somehow doesn't sound too special when one recalls how I went around OHS in a skirt and pigtails (on different days), and went around SPSCC like a drag queen, unwittingly the day before a drag show downtown.

I miss the beach. And cross-dressing...but I miss the beach more.

Alex looks like a...

NOTE:
This entry is not worth reading until fallenearth.org is back online.

(No, this is not a finish-my-sentence entry. I don't feel like being called a trilobyte again.)

About fifteen minutes ago, my mom walked towards the kitchen to get her makeup out of the fridge. (Y'heard me.) She passed me at the table, innocently eating a cookie. In her hand was one of those hairband thingies--I'm a male, so that's as descriptive as I can get.

Anyway, she spotted me sitting idly, munching. She suddenly thought it would be cute if her hair-a-ma-jig went into my hair, since I guess women everywhere have a secret desire to apply beauty products or objects to men at random intervals in their lives. And thus my hair was seeded.

Damian took one look at me and said that I "Looked like a geisha."

Well, the picture-taking after that was purely obligatory on his part--he stuck the idea in my head, after all. He refused to take more than four pictures, as my face scared too much bejesus out of him. Chatting with Jen later, I thought I looked like a Y! Messenger emoticon, with geisha hair.

What do you think?

Centenniel

(Blog entries, not years.)

I could think of no better way of celebrating having published 100 entries than...well, I actually couldn't think of anything beyond posting that I got 367 comments so far. And that I updated my Links sidebar with some more Transformers humor: A Mugshot gallery. Each mugshot has one of those Windows "helpful comment" mouse-over yellow blobs, but with humor laced inside. Excerpt:

Beast Machines, Maximals, Battle Unicorn: "Dost thou see me? Hast thou not known the pleasures of a femmebot's touch? Pity."

Beast Machines, Maximals, Buzzsaw (a bee-like 'bot): "Float like a butterfly, sting like A MAWFOCKA!"

A fine way to spend an afternoon, if you're fairly versed in Transformers lore. Some of the references are inside jokes, but there are still plenty of PG-13 generalist jokes. (I think that's as risqué as it gets.)

I've also noticed that Movable Type does not enjoy accented ASCII characters anymore. That last text schpiddle was an e with a forward accent, pre-saving.

And, besides that, I had to play with Leah's face. Some of us see the resemblance between Leah and me now that we have almost the same haircut. The difference is in the back, though--where I have a bowl (or brain, as my brother Damian likes to say), Leah has, well:

But head-on, if one of us changes our hair color, and if I sit in sunbathed rooms more often, then we would be indistinguishable. And, I suppose, if you sawed off my shins, removed my intestines and a few vertebrae to shorten me a bit.

Spooky, no?

Camping: My pictures

Let's see, I wrote that I would upload my pictures from camping a week or two ago. Well, after Profesionally Crastinating, like I do with a lot of work every summer, I've gotten the shots up. These are from the weekend of July 11th, mostly Saturday. If any of you want the full original (1600x1200 pixels), of these or any of my Graphical Gallery entries, send me an e-mail with the Pxxxxxxx #.

_

I tell ya, there's nothing like having an open (read: coverless) campground and having it start to rain on some of the essential items (firepit, chairs, etc). At the first sight of rain, a couple of us threw a tarp up and over an area of the campsight, roping it down (up?) in place.

Unfortunately, as you may note in the foreground, we couldn't cover the firepit. So, in need of a source of heat, the group huddled around their newly placed fire:

After Mirali managed to separate herself (or sometime that day), they got into a brunch of cereal. They both wanted Trix, and they both shared the box. Either Miranda or Ali decided to take their half of the box all in one mouthful, and the other half of Mirali, thinking on the same wavelength like normal, took her half of the box the same way. Of course, upon seeing each other do the same thing, they both pointed and laughed, though it was somewhat like laughing at one's reflection in the mirror, then realizing there is no mirror.

Eventually, the light rain had dried off and we could start a fire. Miranda, group-designated Fire Goddess, stoked a fire into existence about half an hour before sundown. We all gathered 'round, and chatted for a bit. At some point, someone made a funny comment about Jim & marshmellow-like figures, and Katie thought of something she could add to it. She started to say it, but stopped herself, due to thinking that it would be incredibly rude for her to say. Jim noticed her start to say something, and asked her for what it was. After Katie politely declined to say hat it was, Jim asked her again; then he badgered her; and so on, and so forth, with two or three intermediaries evaluating the message and advising Katie against saying it. Jim, however, would not be sated, and continued to demand that Katie "Say it!" in progressively (and still friendly) demonic tones:

This is what he looked like an hour after Katie kept herself from saying it. (She eventually told him. I, however, remember the battle far better than the victory, and don't recall what it was.) I love this face of Jim's; partly because Jim is terrific at making faces period, but I like the little hints of evil too. MMmm, evil.

Besides that playful romp around Katie's phrase, we still had a long night around the camp fire. It may have been a bit too long for me, as I whipped out a little brand of evil of my own--in the dead of night, with everybody illuminated by a fire's light, I used the flash on my camera. (Oops.)

So, I stuck with the no-flash, all fire lighting for the rest of my shots. Some of these are from Friday night too. My favorite is the last shot I posted here, of Ali lighting a plate on fire--I love how the flare of the plate cast shadows in the dirt, and how it lit Mirali & Katie.

And now, I'll leave you with a lighter side of Jim's many faces. The hair was the result of the picture being taken at some ungodly early hour of the morning (like, 8 or so), but the face was his work.

Camping: Beans

In the Harry Potter universe, there is an equivalent to Jelly Bellies. The Potter beans, named for Ertie Blatt or somesuch, are shaped eerily like the real-word Jelly Bellies. How do I know what they're shaped like? I bought a pack in a Safeway down in Newport.

I knew a little about the beans from the Potter books and movies (1 & 2). I remembered a few of their exotic flavors, like earwax and dirt. I didn't find an earwax in my box, but I did sample a dirt. Here's how authentic that particular bean was:

When I was in the third grade, I rode my Schwinn stunt-like bike onto the top of the big hill in LBA park. On one side of this hill, there is a dirt path for hiking and such. The incline is about forty degrees in places, keeping a steady thirty otherwise. I rode my bike down this hill, because I frankly had nothing better to do at 10 mph than I would at 30. Well, as fate would have it, I lost control of the bike once the ground levelled out--or, I should say, I could keep the bike going straight, but not turn it. 'Twas ill-fated for me, since I had about a whole fifteen feet between the beginning of level ground and a row of five-foot tall baby Douglas Firs. I ended up knocking one of the trees right over; it was me, not my bike. I sneezed brown even after two showers.

I bit into that Dirt bean, and I tasted those Douglas Firs. Or rather, I tasted the dirt and beauty bark that surrounded the Firs. The memory was vivid, and the crunchy palette of flavor in that Dirt bean brought back the memory of earthen boogers.

The authenticity astounded me! I had to have some fun with the beans. My goal was to have a late-night campfire game, where I would pass out a random jelly bean (after inspecting it's color patern for flavor first), and snap a picture of the person who ate it. Well, Jim and Mirali were there, and they didn't take a shining to my idea too quickly.

But I wouldn't leave without a picture of faces as they chomped down on the beans. Three pictures were taken in total, though there were four beans (My camera failed somehow on my Dirt bean). Ali ate the last bean, but on her own terms; she ate the Spinach-flavored bean, since she actually liked (or didn't mind) spinach. However, the authenticity was not as good as Dirt. (The picture's fuzzy because she also ate the bean in her tent, leaving the window open so Jim and I could see her face.) (For those who don't know, Ali is on the left. Mir[anda] is on the right, laughing at her taste buds' pain, just as all of our other halves should.)

I was the proud volunteer for the two other unattempted flavors. I looked forward to the pepper; Katie had told me that pepper was a spicy li'l bean. I chomped down, and became a Believer in a few seconds. You know those pepper balls that go into grinders to make powdered pepper? The beans have a similar spice-density as one of those balls-with the added kick of about six times the volume. 'Twas enough to give me shivers.

Of course, the piece de beaucoup de resistance was the infamous Vomit bean. Well, let me say this: The bean assumes you had a pepperoni pizza before getting "sick." The hurl placebo that is the Vomit Bean doesn't taste bad at all--in fact, kinda fruity--for the first few seconds. But then, the real flavor hits ya: I had to run to the bushes to spit the sucker out. And why did I make a point of pepperoni pizza? That's what you taste afterwards.

We had not a single mint on the campground; but, post-pseudo-Vomitus, the toothpaste started to look awfully tasty...

I'm hot too

And inspired.

It looks like someone captured me in mid-"giddy."

Ah, to be purpose-free for but a few days...c'mon, June 21st...

Matrix (NOT the movie yet)

Once upon a morn', of May 9th, a Matrix fan showed up to choir, as she did everyday. Nobody knew she was a hardcore matrix fan, though, until that day in choir; she had the look about her of much kickassability, and indeed did fling her kickage about the room.

That is, until she was stopped by a mere tenor's finger.

The tenor apologetically cleaned her shoe afterwards. How touching. How balancing. How...non-violent.

The 'Sons

WANTED, FOR THE BOTHERING OF MR. RUTLEDGE:

'Tis a peek into the future...the future tomorrow at about 2:15, to be a bit more precise.

At 1415 tomorrow, two nutcases will commit a strange, strange act in the room of famed math teacher Scott Rutledge. Aaron the 'Son is a suspect in the future wall simulation of Mr. Rutledge's room. The ringleader of this shenanigan is suspected to be...

...Yours truly.

Buah, ha, and another ha.

To quote Meredith

Drop beer, not bombs! There are other things to drop on land targets besides bottles...

Chirp-ye no more

Once upon a psychology club meeting, Oli Newsome (hilarious psych. prof at SPSCC) presented to the club, "The Patrick Hypothesis." This theory is basically that risk-taking, outgoing people will be harder to offend in (insert taste here) humor.

Part one of the experiment: Develop a test to see who is an outgoing person. The criterium became this: Eat one of these babies. Yes, they are dead; they were alive (frozen, but alive) until about a hundredth of a second after they were thrown in a heated wok full of vegetable oil. They sizzle quite audibly.

Part two: Find an outgoing person.

Part two-point-five of the experiment: Have the person follow through on chomping the li'l bugger.

I was told that they would taste a bit like pumpkin seeds. I'd never had a pumpkin seed before in my life, but I doubt those taste like vegetable oil (the bellies absorbed a bit more than they should have - oh well). I also doubt that they would leave little tidbits like this behind.

Right before Oli's lecture in his next class (which I'm in) started, someone gave me a stick of gum. I heartily accepted it, though the cricket didn't leave much of an aftertaste (barely had a taste in the first place). I popped the stick in my mouth, and after about three chews, Oli started his lecture. He had to stop, though, because I gave quite a yelp: "Oh my god, I just found a little more cricket in my teeth!" It's surprising what gum can weed out of those tiny, unknown-to-be-large-enough-to-store-something areas.

Oli laughed and introduced his lecture with the results of the cricket consumption: of 30 people who attended the meeting, 17 ate a cricket. What's better, 4 of those people ate (at least) one live.

I'm gonna go to bed; I'll bet we're going to have bacon, eggs and hash browns for breakfast...mmm....

___

btw, Oli thought that those pictures I took (and so lovingly showcased) were pretty good. Even better than the pictures taken by the Sounds (school newspaper) guy that was there, with a bigger (and probably better) camera, with a bigger (and definitely better) lens. Oli has seen both sets of pictures, and he wanted me to be the Psych. club photographer. Yay!

If he follows my request on my title, you guys shall hear blog entries from the "Mysterious Sock Wielder" of the SPSCC Psychology club.

'Twas the night () before...

'Twas the night (2 hours) before Lord of the Rings...

...and not a stomach had substance in the house.

But then someone spied a whole bowl of Nutrigrain bars,

And then were stuffed pockets, and shirts (but nary a blouse).