March 23rd, 2008
|jimbojones||03:56 pm - doubletaking my way through life|
I read extremely fast. I never took any speedreading courses, but upon examining the contents of a couple of them later in life, it turns out I just sort of naturally learned to do the same thing they advocate: I read entire words at a glance by shape recognition rather than piecing them together letter-by-letter individually. In fact, I can't look at text without reading it; to see is to process.
While this is a great talent to have in normal circumstances, it does lead to some staggeringly weird impressions when I glance across something with text on it without really looking directly at it: the text pops into my head automatically whether I wanted it or not, but if the glance was really fast, sometimes it will pop in wrong.
Case in point:
what my icemaker really says
what I saw when I looked at it just now
Sometimes I kinda wanna live in the world my brain appears to be trying to fabricate around me. It might be less immediately useful than the real world, but it sure as hell would be an interesting one.
Current Mood: cheerful
Current Music: MC 900 ft. Jesus - Spaceman
March 17th, 2008
|jimbojones||12:41 am - Don't you wish your boyfriend could cook like me?|
Went to the Congaree again today, this time sans Chris since he's off in Pensacola trying desperately to unfuck his mom's computer. (LOL.) Took a ton of pics; I'll probably post some tomorrow but in the meantime I'm just going to taunt you with the dinner I had when I got back:
Roasted turkey tenderloin marinated in a smoked tomato and mustard sauce, with lightly stir-fried asparagus, broccoli, sugar snap peas, cauliflower, red bell pepper, yellow squash, and carrots. Mmmmmm. Not pictured: the fresh banana/strawberry/orange smoothie I made to tide me over 'til dinner.
Current Mood: content
Current Music: Fluke - Reeferendrum
March 10th, 2008
|jimbojones||02:10 am - JESUS CHRIST IT'S A PIG, GET IN THE CAR!|
pantsnotneeded and I went hiking out at Congaree National Park today, and ended up doing TEN AND A HALF MILES. Holy fucksticks. We hauled ass pretty well, too, clocking in at 3.5 hours versus the 5.0 hours estimated on the map.
But more importantly - we saw a freakin' WILD PIG on the trail...! This guy was RIGHT ON THE TRAIL and eyeing us a little belligerently. He's a bit bigger than he looks at first glance in the picture; I'd say about lower-thigh-height on me (I'm 5'10) and built like a little freaking tank. When he skittered irritably a couple times in the underbrush you pretty much felt the impact from the hooves; I'd say he was probably somewhere between 80-100 pounds. At first we thought he was a wild dog - the sun was in our eyes - and I thought "man, that dog has his head awful low... that's not good..." and then I heard ripping, tearing noises as he tossed his head a little and thought "that's REALLY not good" before realizing that it was vegetative ripping and tearing, not meat, then I got a little better look at his outline, and Chris and I pretty much simultaneously realized "that's not a dog."
(click for higher res)
Neither of us had ever encountered a wild pig before, and truth be told I might almost have preferred the dog - I know how to fight a dog; fuck if I know how to fight a pig. They don't seem to likely to present themeselves for a knee to the jaw, or as likely to be fazed by it if you did... but, you know, basically when it comes down to it anything smaller than you generally knows it and would prefer not to get hurt, so in the end I just sorta walked up slowly talking to the pig so he'd know I wasn't trying to sneak up on him. Worked well enough, he was way more concerned with Chris sneaking by while I took pictures than he was with me taking them.
(click for higher res)
Later on, we saw a ton more of them to one side of the trail or another - usually entire sounders, most of them noticeably smaller than this guy. The last sounder towards the end of the day had a couple monsters in it, though, including one big all-black boar who looked to be pretty easily half again the size of our friend up there.
At one point, I also saw a freaking ENORMOUS white-tail deer go bounding across the path 40 or 50 yards ahead of us, but he was long gone before I could even think about trying to get a picture. Chris was looking off to the side and never even saw him.
( MOAR PIX?Collapse )
Current Mood: accomplished
March 9th, 2008
|jimbojones||03:18 am - sailors and rednecks|
Went to tnertnoir's tonight to catch a little bit of his birthday(ish) party. I couldn't stay too late, since I have to get up relatively early in the morning, but I did get there at just the right time to see some good-old-fashioned "this is why you don't pass out drunk at the party" hijinks - I felt like I was in the Navy again!
( oh shit, there's pics...Collapse )
Current Mood: amused
March 2nd, 2008
|jimbojones||10:28 pm - and it just feels *good*|
pantsnotneeded, ardaiel, and I hit the trails out at Harbison forest last weekend and did six miles or so. ardaiel was down for the count this weekend with a sore throat (LOL) but Chris and I made it out there anyway, and ended up doing about eight miles. Pretty nice. It feels pretty damn good to still be ABLE to do an impromptu eight-mile hike over fairly rough terrain, and feel little if any the worse for wear. It feels even better to actually be DOING it instead of sitting in a chair and rotting!
Protip to any other Columbia-ers that want to do the Harbison trails, though: print out your own fucking maps beforehand and make sure you've put a (correct) compass rose on it. The little map stands along the trails are frequently downright wrong and invariably oriented in a completely random fashion: North will NOT always be up; neither will it be oriented such that "up" is the direction you are looking in when facing the map. I am pretty sure that the Forestry Commission got a tax break by employing, uh, developmentally disabled folks to do the maps. Which would also explain the occasional tic-tac embedded in the map behind the plastic. "I LIKE TIC-TACS!"
Chris keeps trying to get me to run (and we actually did run a bit of the trails last weekend), but I keep telling him there's very little in this world I want badly enough to run after it, or am scared of enough to run from it. "Fight-or-flight" response in me is pretty much just simplified to "fight". Maybe after we've been banging the trails regularly for a few months I won't mind the idea so much, but for right now, the hell with that noise. Honestly, if I want more of a challenge I'm more the type to strap on a heavy pack than to break into a run, anyway.
We'll probably hit up the Congaree next weekend, weather permitting, I think. He's never been, and I haven't been but once - but it was gorgeous. Definitely a lot more to look at than the Harbison trails - and if you're going to hike a swamp, far better to do it in March than in May!
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: Teddybears - Different Sound
February 21st, 2008
|jimbojones||02:51 pm - It's always Caturday on the Drunkternet!|
So, it all started when pantsnotneeded started fucking with my FreeBSD wiki. "Do not fuck with me, for I admin your internets," I said. "Hah, you think you could stop me?" "Yes... yes I could. For a beginning."
So I started fucking around with proxies, and quickly discovered that most of them really won't *do* what I want them to do - fuck with people, that is. The guy who did the upside-down-ternet was close, but to be honest while I found his inspiration to be divine, his method was crude to the point of active pain: he wasn't even REALLY proxying stuff, he actually had a script in the background downloading images, saving them, fucking with them on the hard drive, then serving THEM off of... yeah, you don't care. But, I knew I could do better - rather than saving stuff and screwing around on the command line, I wanted to edit the TCP stream live, just like the xkcd comic. Only without the oven mitts.
A day later, I'd learned a fucking ton about proxies in general, the Perl HTTP::Proxy CPAN module more specifically, and I finished my project: the Drunkternet, where it's ALWAYS Caturday. I originally intended to inflict it on pantsnotneeded just before heading out to work - without comment, and without any way to avoid it - but his hard drive crashed this morning, so I figured he'd had enough of a bad day and just showed it to him instead.
But maybe you've been having a better day than he has! Feeling brave? Or maybe, just too goddamn sober? Either way, set your browser's proxy setting to 22.214.171.124 port 3128, and get on the Drunkternet!
( Help with your browser proxy settings is available behind the cut.Collapse )
Shoutouts go to the Upside-down-ternet guy (for a large part of the original inspiration), Psyci from the Pen forum (who originated the sine/cosine derived "bob and weave" routine used by a lot of the elements), and Thomas Cattimus (who is showing your sorry ass how to WIN).
(obligatory disclaimer: the Drunkternet is currently limited to 30 concurrent clients, so if your internets quit working after you set your proxy, just set it back and try again later. the Drunkternet may also not function at work, depending on how hard-ass your office's network security is.)
Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: ZZ Top - Heaven, Hell, or Houston
February 19th, 2008
|jimbojones||03:34 am - so it's 3:30 AM...|
... and pantsnotneeded and I just got home from closing the bar down.
In three point five hours, the furniture people will be here with my new table and chairs. What are the odds I will be thrilled about this, in three point five hours?
I would say "file this under poor life decisions", but honestly, it was worth it. Sometimes, you need to cut loose a bit.
Current Mood: a bit drunk
Current Music: Teddybears sthlm - Cobrastyle
January 27th, 2008
|jimbojones||02:32 am - pic wins the internet|
Very relevant link: http://bushline.ytmnd.com/
Completely unrelated and lulz-free, but also <3: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiLmTWFIXqk (I am addicted to this song now.)
Birthday was epic. There were utterly random cute chicks, there were many shots, there was the closing down of one bar and the invasion of the after-hours bar with the bartender from the first, there was the application of basic physics to teeter-totter Chris' car off a two-foot curb he beached it on outside the Awful Waffle. There was also the mother of all hangovers the next day: copious alcohol + The P33T Plague = ow ow ow ow ow. Still, it was worth it.
Current Mood: party hard
Current Music: Tobiah - I Love Your Music
January 13th, 2008
|jimbojones||12:47 am - my style is de bomb diggy bomb de dang de dang diggy diggy|
While out with Shaun and Karen and Chris last night, a random chick at the next table at Yesterday's challenged me to identify the object in a video clip on her cell phone. She started the video playing, and said "just press 'play' again when it's done." It was pretty obvious immediately, despite the extreme close-up, that SOMETHING was being energetically squatted on by a girl with no anal hang-ups whatsoever. (Thanks internet!) But I did have to press 'play' again to figure out what the hell it actually was. "That is a trailer hitch," I proclaimed, to impressed murmurs from the table that handed the cell phone over. "I'll take 'auto parts' for $500, Alex!"
I'm still a little bemused, though. Not so much at the chick having that video to begin with, as at her putting it on her cell phone. Like... she wanted that video clip portable. To fit her on-the-go lifestyle. Of course, it might have been taken on the cell phone to begin with. Which I was kinda tempted to ask, to be honest. But it seemed like the kind of thing best wondered about rather than nailed down.
Sadly, I missed the party tonight with the 40-foot-tall bonfire in the back yard. But, although I'm not above showing up at a party where I only know a single person, doing so while consumed with the sniffle-snots just seems like a bad idea. Not being able to drink at the kind of party where 40-foot-fires are lit also seems suboptimal. And Friday night proved to me conclusively that the best treatment plan for a rattly cough is not to start drinking at 5:30 and keep going until the bars close down. Oops.
Current Mood: amused
Current Music: Teddy Bears STHLM - Cobrastyle
January 1st, 2008
|jimbojones||09:28 pm - where did this thing come from, and how do I kill it?|
Apparently, at some point something happened that I wasn't paying attention to, and I got saddled with a conscience.
Last night at Nate's NYE party a neighbor who we're friends with came up to me and informed me that, hey, that chick over there that came over with his bunch was 20, and not married, and not seeing anybody, and I should come over to get in the hot tub later. I was busy blowing things up at the time, so I just grinned back at him and said we'll see or something along those lines. Back in the house, Karen started talking to the girl in question in the kitchen, and I just sort of boggled - damn she looked young. Like high-school young.
Don't get me wrong, I can easily picture a 20 year old that I'd ditch the 1/2+7 rule over; rules are made to be broken when they don't fit. I've broken that particular one before, after all. There are such things as bright, witty, engaging, mature 20 year olds. But this just wasn't one of them.
It didn't occur to me until today that it was also more than a little creepy that he dropped invitations to come join the hot tub party to me several times, specifically in relation to this girl being present, without ever actually introducing me to her. Hell, I still don't even know her name.
On a more awesome note, pantsnotneeded (who moved to Columbia just a couple of weeks ago), theonyx (who was in town to visit, and maybe join the migration and end up here as well), and his friend ardaiel (who already lives here but who I didn't know until this weekend) were all at the party too and it was a blast, as was the rest of the holiday weekend we all spent largely together. Hopefully our drunken retarded antics last night weren't too much; we sort of wound up a tight clique through the party without any specific intent to. And god knows we were neither quiet nor sedate. I for one apparently announced "I am as fucking drunk as I have ever been" on multiple occasions, and uh, I don't remember saying it, but it certainly was true. I think we ALL went right over the retard wall about the same time, 15 or 20 minutes after midnight. Personally, I blame the champagne toast at midnight for supercharging the bourbon and tequila already in my stomach. My system is a high performance alcohol-fueled machine, but it was designed for normal aspiration only.
Current Mood: holy shit it's 2008 now
Current Music: Garbage - Milk
December 7th, 2007
|jimbojones||07:00 pm - on the topic of high-beams (no, not the "is she cold?" kind)|
I have a pretty standard response to people who weld themselves to my ass with their brights on:
1. say unkind and possibly untrue things about their ancestry, their chromosome count, and their sexual habits
2. reach up and adjust the rear-view so as to bounce their high-beams right back in their eyes
The typical response is either to flick the high-beams off (hey, thanks!), immediately shift lanes while keeping the high beams on (if that's in my blind spot mirror now, guess where THAT gets aimed next, fuckhead?), or drop five or ten carlengths back... while keeping the high-beams on. Once I even got a REALLY special contestant with an older car who held the lo/hi toggle switch down manually, in order to light up BOTH sets of filaments for the ULTRA high-beam... which, of course, went right back in his/her own eyes courtesy of my rearview. Congrats, a winnar is yuo.
The response tonight was a new one, though. Suburban Mom actually followed me into a grocery store parking lot to berate me for how "unsafe" it was for me to shine her own brights back at her. Seriously. I boggled. Then I started laughing. Which pissed her off even more, as she couldn't figure out why I was laughing. Until I asked her how it was "safe" for her to shine those brights in not only my eyes, but those of every single oncoming car in traffic, but "unsafe" for me to shine those same lights right back at her.
"But... but... but... that's different!"
November 23rd, 2007
|jimbojones||10:04 pm - thanksgiving: a success|
Most of you are celebrating Thanksgiving wrong and don't even know it. It turns out these are the key elements of a successful Thanksgiving celebration, in no particular order:
Check, check, and check.
- burning furniture
At least, that's the tradition amongst my adopted-extended-family-in-Columbia, and I certainly approve. And I gotta tell ya: the only thing more entertaining than watching girls attempt to fire a 12-gauge while bent nearly double backwards at the waist - and no, I'm not kidding - is when one of said girls decides that in the attempt to avoid bruising her shoulder, she will instead snug the shotgun into her right breast before firing. And the only thing more amusing than that is the unalloyed outrage her mom exhibits immediately after said bright idea, when said (young teenage) girl howls, grabs tit, and begins massaging it in an extremely blatant, I-don't-care-HOW-this-looks-my-tit-HURTS! kind of way.
Yes, once again, Thanksgiving in Columbia was a success.
|note: all pics clickable. (not pictured: a bunch of other people, a chocolate lab, two shotguns, a skeet thrower, beer, food.)
L-R: Tommy, Mike (note: thrown horns), Tallulah.
L-R:Em, Tallulah, Em's Mom (begin jokes: NOW), Tommy.
Also noteworthy: Molly met Tallulah (the yellow lab in the pix above: 10 months, 75 pounds or so) the night before Thanksgiving. Tallulah has all the patience, common sense, and self-restraint of... well... a 10-month old yellow lab. (Read: plays rough, enthusiastic, and non-stop.) Molly gave her all she could handle for three freakin' hours, and loved it. Tallulah made her yipe a couple of times (got her in the ear, I think - Molly's got a sensitive ear) but Molly'd instantly get WAY up in her face, dead silent with teeth bared like "I may be small but I will fucking CUT YOU bitch", and Tallulah would instantly back down - at which point Molly'd wag her tail and crouch down playfully and they'd go right back to playing again. Noteworthy comment by Mike: "Fighting possums and shit in the woods must be better training than growing up in Emily's house." I tell ya, there is just no way I could possibly be happier with that little dog. She rocks.
Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Steve Miller Band - The Joker
August 25th, 2007
|jimbojones||10:52 pm - holy shit... I do matter|
In the course of getting variously scoffed at, called a liar and a shill, interrogated and otherwise treated rather rudely on a rather large tech forum that's got a heavy and prevalent Microsoft bias (complete with a few MS-employed astroturfers) I wound up explaining my business model as a consultant and my volume of business to a guy who works on the enterprise side of things and isn't at all familiar with the small biz sector (an awful lot of the IT industry isn't). Honestly, I normally kind of feel a little... well, like I'm less than I should be, or could be, in terms of my business success. Like I'm maybe a little too lazy. I'm just not that aggressive or ambitious about growing my business; as long as I'm making good money I'm generally happy and prefer to let whatever growth may be, be, and the hell with the rest.
But in actually quantifying what I do in terms of customers and machines in order to explain to a third party who I didn't know and who didn't know me, I realized that I'm single-handedly responsible for administering over 60 different servers, not including my own personal or even my own business's servers - and that's only among my most frequent "core" customers. A couple of those customers are (internet hosting) service providers themselves, with a few hundred businesses apiece relying on them. And I also handle an average of probably ten desktop machines per server. And all the networking equipment required to keep all that stuff talking to each other. And a tremendous chunk of the general end-user support needed at the sites in question.
A tremendous chunk of the downtown areas of my city has been getting heavily torn down and reconstructed for a few years now. Several of those same customers of mine have been directly responsible for the planning, engineering, and architecture of a lot of that work. Which makes me feel like an important part of that.
Shit. I'm not saying my city would stop functioning if I tripped in front of a bus, but I'm more important than I realized I was. Go me.
(In unrelated but also gratifying news, I got carded buying an "M" rated video game tonight. It's been a kinda gratifying day.)
Current Mood: uplifted
Current Music: Cypress Hill - Rock Superstar
August 24th, 2007
|jimbojones||11:49 pm - I am officially old.|
Do you know how I know that I am officially old?
Because I am, jesus, like the LEAST angry dude on the internet. It's crazy. Even when my life is chock full of suck and angst (as it is currently) I am less angry than like 90% of the internet. Hell I'm less angry than 90% of the white males making over 50K a year, even, and you'd really think they wouldn't have a whole lot to get angry about to begin with. I mean, I know I've never been anything but white and male, but I definitely feel like I have less to be angry about since I started making good money. But anyway. Seriously, wtf can't people have a civil conversation without assuming the guy they're talking to is Out To Get Them if he expresses a different idea? Can't people just talk about stuff anymore, and compare viewpoints, without everything having to be a goddamn jihad?
If I was 20 I'd be flamingly angry about it, but as it is I'm just sort of disgruntled and disgusted and kinda irritated. Get offa my virtual lawn, you hooligans.
Current Mood: pfeh.
February 15th, 2007
|jimbojones||10:59 pm - A Life at the Roxbury?|
My life involves a lot of cross-town driving, given the travel necessities of serving customers all over town and work and school and what have you. Lately, I've gotten in a sort of unconscious habit of mentally going over how life is going and what needs doing and what needs figuring out pretty much at the very moment the stick goes in reverse to back me out of the parking spot.
Today on the way out of the Bull Street garage, idling behind a stream of students queued up for the exit, I distractedly considered my current relationship with Kristi. (La francaise.) It's awfully new, but it's awfully sweet, and it's something I really don't want to fuck up. So my mind recursively calls up images of relationships past, over and over again, comparing and contrasting and trying to analyze: is this something that could work over a long period? Is it destined to fail or to fade? How much of what is good about it is the sex, as opposed to how much of the sex being so good is what's good about the rest? How well do we talk to each other about un-romantic things? Would we be friends? How much would it hurt if I got used to her being there, and then she wasn't? How do you tell sex from love, and love from sex, really, when you're trying for both? What is love?
And at that moment, I realized I had just, in fact, internally verbalized the lyrics from a Haddaway song. In a deeply serious way. So I hastily kicked on a Daft Punk album and Robot Rock-ed my cheesy ass all the way to the next customer's office.
Current Mood: valentiney
Current Music: Haddaway - What Is LovNO WAIT, I MEAN DAFT PUNK - ROBOT ROCK
February 7th, 2007
|jimbojones||05:37 pm - harnessing the power of ridicule|
I and several coworkers have decided that we could all stand to lose a few pounds, and have therefore devised a new game, which we are entering into this week. We call this game "Fattest Fatass."
The format is much like that of the TV show "Biggest Loser", in which whatever lardass contestant sheds the highest multiple of their own fucking body weight wins. Only, that's too positive for us. Instead, we are working from the same sort of perspective a rational person uses in case of shark attack: you don't have to outswim the shark, you just have to outswim the guy next to you.
So, in Fattest Fatass, we weigh in once every two weeks, and whoever has lost the smallest percentage of their bodyweight is officially the Fattest Fatass for that period, and has their name and title posted on a whiteboard of shame for all to see. At first, we thought we might not have a whiteboard available. "We can put it on the website for all I care," Trey said. This of course digressed into daydreaming about links there from the New Employment section. "Are you a disgusting tub of fucking lard? Would you like to be publicly ridiculed for it? Come work at [marine civil engineering firm]!"
Current Mood: bored
February 4th, 2007
|jimbojones||11:49 pm - une bonne nuit, vraiment (ou, un peu d'entretien d'oreiller ce matin)|
She: In French, when you don't really want to see someone again but you want to make a polite exit, you say en s'appelle - see, the reflexive tense again? It means "we'll call", but the passiveness of it means you really won't.
Me: In my experience -
She: Oh yes, tell me about your experience!
Me: ... in my experience, une nuit seulement et en s'appelle never involves this much kissing in the morning.
Current Mood: peaceful
Current Music: Tiesto - Just Be
January 31st, 2007
|jimbojones||12:58 am - 'sup internet? how ya been?|
There have been several things lately that I've thought "hey, I should make an LJ post about it," but somehow it just never kinda happened. So here's a bit of a recap.
1. Life has been feeling a little gray around the edges lately. I keep waffling back and forth between thinking "man, I'm glad I'm not an emotional retard like I was when I was in my early 20's" and hearing songs like Mogwai - Summer or M83 - Don't Save Us From The Flames and thinking "ah, the terrible grandeur of teenage love... I miss that. Even if it was ultimately self-destructive."
2. My boss and my coworker had a prolonged conversation in the office last week concerning another coworker surveying a project. They used the phrase "Philip was doing lines in the boat" - which refers to running survey lines, where you take data points with GPS and bathymetry equipment at set intervals along those lines - seriously like 20 times in two minutes. Finally I couldn't take it anymore, and said with a goofy grin, "you better keep that on the down low, the DEA doesn't like to hear about that kind of thing." Trey (my coworker) grinned and chuckled. Bossman stared at me completely blank. I blinked, and said "um. You know. Doing lines on the boat?" Trey rolled his eyes. Bossman stared blankly for three more beats and said "is that a drug reference?" "Dude. Did you never watch Miami Vice in the 80's? Are you kidding me?" Yes, I said that. To my boss. At least I didn't say "you can't watch Nickelodeon without learning what 'doing lines' means!" ... while he was there.
3. I hooked up with a seriously insane, seriously hot chick a couple of times a couple of months ago. I didn't realize she was seriously insane at the time. But, wow, yeah. I mean usually you know what's up with a girl, to some degree, right? If you make a statement like "it doesn't add up" when describing her behavior, what you really mean is, "it adds up, but it doesn't add up to the same total she's trying to sell me on." Not in this case. Girl stood me up, I shit you not, three out of three times we were supposed to go out. AND YET after two months of no contact with her, she still gives enough of a shit to call me up and try to get together again and apologize profusely for being such a fuckup. Wtf? She is actually a literal joke now. My friends and I refer to her as "random-ass" ever since she rang my cell while I was at Nate's, and he christened her with his usual panache. Go Nate.
4. Had a first date tonight. French teacher (collegiate level). Early thirties. A little mousey (but I like mousey!) but cute, and intelligent, and can at least pretend to look interested while I babble about Japanese and at least pretend not to be offended when I hold forth on what college professors are doing wrong. What's not to like? Seriously, a good time. Even though she told me the (incredibly bad) country singer on the stage was clearly far tougher than I am, because he had silver lame on his hat. I am totally calling her back.
5. Speaking of the (incredibly bad) country singer, he and his band performed a number that actually pissed me the fuck off. A little something they composed themselves, called "Cherokee Boogie", in which a fictional "indian chief" who is "lovesick for a lil' squaw" says lots and lots of nonsense syllables over and over again "and waves his tommy-hawk around." Good job, assholes. Good job making sure you aim your shit-tastic ethnic slur against people that got killed off enough that you can be fairly sure you won't run into, anyway. I am guessing you wouldn't have the balls to get on stage and sing "Little Black Sambo Boogie" in which he says "ooga ooga booga" over and over "and waves his spear around." And probably wouldn't even make the connection between the two ideas on your own. Again, assholes. Thankfully, my date was in the bathroom for this delightful little boogie and therefore didn't have to witness my sour expression while I sat through it.
6. Speaking again of the date, she told me she had recently gone out with a Quebecois guy, which she "totally geeked out about." (French teacher, remember. I can respect that.) She said she was totally disappointed because he "was fascinated with American culture, drove a ridiculous pickup truck - an F-350! - and had absolutely no political convictions whatsoever." I blurted "and he was from Quebec?" She nodded solemnly. "Did they ride him out on a rail?" (I am looking at you as I type this, Linda!)
7. My math professor and I got off to a bad start on the first day of class this semester, but since then I have decided he is An Winrar. During an animated story he was telling about a convention he attended on DNA sequencing algorithms, he explained that this was actually quite a wild convention because it was interdisciplinary - having computer scientists and network managers and biochemists as well as mathematicians - and therefore was far more rowdy than a normal math convention. "During one of the talks I gave, there were almost fistfights breaking out in the crowd!" I couldn't resist commenting "NERDFIGHT - 3, 2, 1 GO!" and grinning. He grinned back at me and said "yeah, pretty much." OK, Josh Cooper, you are now a winner in my book.
8. He showed up to class today with a price tag hanging from the armpit of his shirt. Bobbing wildly around as he gestured. Oh my god the torture. I so wanted to say things like "hey man, did you get that shirt from Old Navy?" but I couldn't, because one, it was a little more directly antagonistic than the nerdfight comment, and two, I already tested him only last week and he passed. So I totally didn't want to either embarass him or make him think I was attacking him. And yet, I didn't want to let the guy keep wandering around wildly flailing his shirt tag about either. And it was getting harder and harder to keep a straight face. AND THERE WAS NO NON-PUBLIC WAY TO LET HIM KNOW. Finally, a guy behind me said "uh check your armpit man." Naturally he went for the right armpit, then had to be directed to the left. And sighed, and pulled the tag, and said - bewildered - "I didn't think this was a new shirt!" At which point I blurted "I hope that was a new shirt." He just kinda rolled his eyes and said "yeah, I've probably been wandering around like this for 3 months now." And went back to lecturing. Once again, this guy = teh winrar. I like him.
9. THERE IS NO NINE
Current Mood: pleased
Current Music: Explosions In The Sky - catastrophe and the cure
January 2nd, 2007
|jimbojones||11:18 pm - go cry, emo kid|
The girl Fort Minor - Where'd You Go originally made me sad over is long gone, but it's still a sad song.
In more upbeat news, my job is paying me handsomely to walk around on the beach and stay for free in an oceanfront room with a private balcony for a week. It ain't five star, but it's damn nice regardless, and having my own microwave and fridge in addition to the private oceanview balcony makes it even better.
location: Ocean Isle Beach
Current Mood: the glass is half full
Current Music: Liz Phair - Flower
December 17th, 2006
|jimbojones||03:21 pm - ::blink::|
The waitress said, and I kid you not, "the catch of the day is muh-HI-yuh muh-HI-yuh".
"Ah... 'MA-hee MA-hee'...?"
"::proudly:: muh-HI-yuh muh-HI-yuh. That's how I say it."
I scrupulously avoided the fish, but lunch was still about as bad as you'd think.
Current Mood: ::facepalm::
Current Music: Dead Can Dance - The Ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove