10:35 a.m.

Tuesday, Mar. 07, 2006

Festivious and slow dancing marbles

Now that I can update my flickr I am all over it like flies at a popular party for flies to attend. This morning's update is from my trip to Santa Cruz a couple weeks ago to see Cass's dance performance. The pictures are after the cast party where Cass let us know that our duty was to drink...a lot...then drink some more. I obliged.
Cass took pictures. And Cass's brother...uhhh, I guess he 'represented'.

What's with all these pictures of people and of Oddy? I know! How strange of me. I have plenty of non-person pictures to post up later since I am behind. Or as they say in Latin: I am butt. Lady Stella can confirm. Confirm it Lady! Anyway, soon up should be pictures from pie day.

A popular party for flies would be some sort of poo fest, I imagine.

8:47 p.m.

Monday, Mar. 06, 2006

Well Trimmin'

Finally, I've been able to upload some pictures on my flickr so I can show off my new trim. New trim? Yes! Oddy had, had, a beard for about a year and in celebration he trimmed it, now looking of a young buck! More like a young dollar... a ha ha ha.

Now I'll end talking in the 3rd person like Dole or Kolouker-the previous incarnate anyway.

I may or may not have mentioned before that while having a beard I considered shaving it off nearly everyday for a couple months, then didn't care for awhile, then thought of shaving it off. When I had the facial hairiness for the better part of a year I decided to continue my unshaven appearance for at least a year, marking a year by the time I had regrown the beard after a month of having shaven off the first beard. By my mediocre calculations, a year was by sometime in March. So I waited until March. Last Thursday the second to be specific.

While I sat in class, medieval philosophy, I knew it was the day to shave because I could not focus on anything else. Okay, I mostly gave my attention to the professor, but when other classmates comments or questions bored me or drolled on I thought of shaving the beard. Althought, the original plan was to shave everything, leaving a bit of sideburns as I saw fit. When I finally started shaving, sometime after the picture of me with the beard- which by the way I wasn't really unhappy, just being theatrical (acting! thank you)- I decided to leave a mustache to see how it would look on me. Last I remembered, a mustache on me looked pretty weird. Plus, I have a disturbance with mustaches.

On most people, for the most part, in a nearly overall way, I do not like mustaches. They are creepy-on some people. They are a power symbol-for some people. They are a common teenagers symbol for "I can grow facial hair"-on annoying teenagers. So, to make a point, I don't like mustaches...mostly. There are some exceptions, because exceptions exisist. Other than people who look well with a mustache, usually in a non-threatening manner since my dislike of mustaches started from people who were caught up with their "authority" so I made the mustache-asshole correlation, I don't mind mustaches that are a sort of joke. Which is where I come in. I doubt I look 'threatening' in my mustache, I haven't ruled out creepy, and the 'stache is fuller than teenage peach fuzz. Overall, I find my new appearance personally entertaining. Everytime I look in the mirror I laugh. I hope that others who can see the joke laugh as well. People that I've seen so far haven't reacted, though, except for one friend who I hung out with for dinner and coffee on Friday and talked to briefly today, he is still in shock when he sees me and stares with a troubled smile.

People of earth, I'm feeling awesome.

In other news: mmmmm, beer.

11:20 a.m.

Friday, Mar. 03, 2006

Perspectivacious

Sometimes I worry that I'm going sane. Thank goodness for relativism.

9:20 p.m.

Monday, Feb. 27, 2006

Phlemboyant

So far I have learned that drinking wine does not help clear one up from feeling sick. Although, it does make one more sociable. Yet, one wakes up the next day and realizes that moving is not a good idea. So, while lying still, one- that one of me, so I shall now say I- I think about sipping 7up through a straw, except I do not have any said pop nor straws in my supply. While considering my options of how far I'd have to walk to acquire some 7up and straws I realize that standing up was a major challenge, hence the laying and minimal movement, so I give up the dream and face the pillow. The pillow is there. The pillow is doing its job. A pillowy well job indeed.

For no particular reason: Dracula Dracula Dracula.

11:55 p.m.

Friday, Feb. 24, 2006

Hopes the head clears out

My throat is an ally of soreness awaiting another swallow to confirm the pain signaled in my brain and reflected in my ears. Still, I swallow again and again. I wonder if I swallow this often when my throat is fine, when I am not painfully aware of each act of swallowing through the whole agony that is my throat en route to the stomach. Possibly, I am aware at this moment because I am drinking a glass, from a large bottled concoction, of cranberry-raspberry juice. This juice is sweet. This juice is 100% in the category of juice. Drinking of this juice relates to salivation due to consumed juice and in anticipation of juice to be consumed. Bit of the yummy yummy reaction and a bit of the classical, Pavlovian conditioning.

Behavioral science major and I am analyzing a particular response, that of the now time, to be past just now, to my drinking juice. Although, my starting point is due to my sore throat because I have been sick since Thursday morning, of which I was painfully aware by awakening to sore swallowing. I didn't care for the taste in my mouth either. Usually for me the throat is where I can feel the pain coming, a development of discomfort, the overwhelming surge of disease. This in particular I consider a head cold because it is contained within the part above my shoulders. A pain from the neck up. And from there everything is plugged. Although, my nose, ever the rebel, leaks now and then, but just a trickle or so to taunt the sensitive areas that cause me to dab and blow; shallow hope to clear things out, at least for awhile.

I should head for some sleep.

6:36 p.m.

Thursday, Feb. 16, 2006

Noodles from up high

I found this survey interesting considering I'm taking a psycholinguistics course this semester:

Your Linguistic Profile:

80% General American English

20% Yankee

0% Dixie

0% Midwestern

0% Upper Midwestern

I found it from another web-log and one of the points brought up both in the blog and test is the pronounciation of mary/merry/marry. I cannot conceive of how these are pronounced differently. Although, until now I was not aware that I saw these pretty much the same, the exception being that I notice more of a 'meh' sound when I say merry. I guess the context of the conversation would clarify which I mean, whenver those terms come up in my casual conversations about Mary feeling merry that she's about to marry Tom from up the hill. But what we all want to know is, which hill is he up? With such ambiguity Mary, are you sure?

In other good news, since you've been suckered into reading this far, is that today I got my graduation application in after a bit of running around for signatures, payment, and the final "here you go, take the damn thing" at the registrars. Woo. Actually, it was an easy process when I think back, just a lot of step to literally be taken. Luckily my school is small. Anyhow, now all I have on my plate is to finish this semester's classes and I shall have myself a BA in psychology. I'd say that'll make me about one in a million.

I wonder if psych. has often been a popular major or if I'm just part of a popularity surge. If the latter, that's quite annoying. At least I've found many psych majors annoying, but knowing me I'd find many people in whatever other major I could have done annoying. It's probably a good thing I'm a quiet person in public, otherwise people would hear a lot of "shut up shut up shut up" coming from me, but directed at no one in particular. Mostly towards areas of people. Those to the left, maybe right, a little forward, behind me, there'd be a shifting pattern.

Finally, in other good news: I got pegged by a brief hail storm. Yay! Tiny hail. I was going to the post-office to mail a package and at first they thought something was wrong with me because the package was wet. "You're not the guy with the bowl of noodle soup for his mom," they might be thinking. "I got soup for my ma," I'd shout proudly, "Ma not feeling so go, or sos I predictable." A pat on the head later, assurance they'll take care of the package, and I'd be out the door while they smile and wave, quickly sneaking the package in a shute under the desk that goes straight into a smelly dumpster. There, in the dank pit of trashed packages, the dumpster rats would feed on Ma's noodle soup.

And you know what? The soup is still warm.

9:37 p.m.

Tuesday, Feb. 14, 2006

A special especial

I was right regarding the previous post. Except I wasn't let down when I realized around 7pm that I forgot about the pillow fight downtown. I had thought about calling a friend to come check it out with me, which is also a trick of mine to get me to do stuff, but I left my cell at home. It's my only phone anyway since my internet is through the cable company of my landlordies.

When people say someone is "indisposed," then to clarify says "in the shower," I think the latter phrase should be said while thrusting. Sometimes phrases could use some thrusting. Think of the ambiguity. I mean, "apple pie" or "apple pie" while thrusting. The moving forward and backward, and repeat, of ones crotch makes for a bold statement, sort of the exclamation point for verbalization. Shouting doesn't have the same effect. At least I have my doubts.

I was thinking, why can't I find skinny ties for .40 cents, or maybe a dollar or so, at thrift stores. Stupid thick ties. I just don't dig them. My only skinny tie is actually a kids tie from when I was a kid. Remember when I was a kid? I had a suit too. It was grey and I only wore it to my uncle's wedding, and damn did I think I was hot stuff. I mean, a suit. Grey slacks, grey jacket (sports jacket?--the name just confuses me, I'm not athletic). I think the tie was grey too, and not clip on. The other day in class I was staring at my teacher's collar trying to figure out how clip on ties work, where they clip on. I don't get it. Well, I feel pretty special when I tie my own tie, whenever I wear a tie. I also feel pretty special whenever I put on shoes, get mail, make a sandwich, have a donut and coffee, listen to a good song...

7:30 p.m.

Monday, Feb. 13, 2006

A day for you and many

Finally, a reason to celebrate! And so pillowy

Straight up bashing for fun, for sure. I may go if I remember, but knowing me, I'll forget by studying, then going home, watching teevee, and at 6pm say, "ahh crap." Cie la vie. Cie la pillowy.

Better than oven roasted cud.

9:57 p.m.

Saturday, Feb. 04, 2006

Butter in the eye

Here's Em's take on the Violent Femmes show, when you scroll down a bit or just read until you see the show mentioned, and she has a humorous story to relate which I was going to tell anyway. It was funny and I got to see a picture of the teacher in the Metro Santa Cruz. Regarding the show, Em and I had a similar, yet unspoken, feeling about how we both enjoyed the show but were thinking, "uh, how much longer?" The Femmes went on at 10pm, and we were in the place since 9pm (doors at 8pm, but we just picked up the raffle tickets to get in the door and went out for stale chips and a burrito I just about shoved in my face...that's when I saw the sandwich teacher picture)and at 9:30pm, after the opening act, I looked at my Spongebob watch, looked at Em and said, "Ughh, I'm tired already." A moment passed and just when I started to think I said a no-no before seeing a band Em replied, "Yeah, me too." At this point I related an idea that Greg Berdnt (maybe spelled his last name wrong, but I ain't looking it up-razzbery) in his comedy special, "(his name) is uncool", where he talked about having a special show for the over 30 crowd (maybe 35 and older) where the show starts at exactly 7pm, the band plays exactly one hour, then every one can go home and catch Lost. I don't watch that show, though, so I'd watch something else or go out for pie and coffee. Maybe something in the cake family. Anyway, I like his idea despite being 23. Which would be a problem to get into that show. Other than being an earlier show, the part about being around people who aren't my age is appealing because most annoy me...but I bet this will continue 'through the ages', as they say.

Well, I've been thinking, I may be one of those people who's sort of old...always. I only say this because my maternal grandmother was said to be old even when she was young. I even mentioned to my mom that grandma seemed like she was always an old person and my mom agreed. At grandma's funeral or a function with her sister, or both, people (maybe just her sister) mentioned that she always acted old. So, for that reason I think I have some 'acting old, always', in my genes. Which I'm cool with. Totally. Fo'real. Cause that's only some of me. The rest of me feels too young...which I mentioned before around my birthdaying. When the door guy checked my ID at the Femmes show some girl hanging around him said, "That's not you, where are the glasses?" But I didn't reply because I wasn't paying attention. I've gotten used to being ID'd so I hand it over and don't pay attention until I'm handed back my ID. My picture is from when I was 16, the height and weight is from when I was 14 (5'2" and 92 lbs.-I bet I wrote about this before, I'm already making re-caps!), and now I wear glasses (which started around age 18), have a beard, and a mostly shaved head with a middle-ish placed strip of hair from front to back. Mostly I don't get questions on my ID, usually jokes that I'm not paying attention to like, "hey that's not you...just kidding," which I remember passively. But, when this woman made her comment, at the Femmes show, I just kinda gave a mindless "uhhhh" to what I thought was a lame comment while the door check guy was telling me something about me having 5 seconds to bare my wrist for stamping, to which I continued a mindless "uhhhhhhh".

And now you see why I don't go outside too often.

Well crap, I made dinner 2 hours ago and I've yet to eat.

8:55 p.m.

Saturday, Feb. 04, 2006

Touching, yet pre-moistened

Adieu, adieu, dear Pabst box (in which a couple cans leaked for some reason).

White spots on throat? Man, you better get that checked out. Otherwise, I prescribe laughter...it feels great like fresh, warm pie! Actually it just burns. But burning of digestion of harmful bacteria. Bacterium White-spotium Acculculus. Tends to affect the throat and rear portion of legs on occasion.

"German nun, German nun! Are you done baking won-der-ful cookies...full of nun love...let's hug; that black and white cover, it's a habit that I like, smells too good to be a normal nun; I'll buy you a danish if you ever drink some coffee."

That's a song, so I put it in quotes. Jeez, I'm all over the place at the moment. Anyway, if I don't mention it later, which is likely, I saw the Violent Femmes on Thursday (Groundhog Day) with Em -who's birthday is also today! (Happy parenthasized Birthday!!!-in Santa Cruz. The show was awesome, the people should learn to lay down and stop annoying me-well, many, not all-and as Em said when we left the crowded club into the chilly night, just before we both realized neither of us could remember where I parked, Em asked, "During the songs you didn't recognize, did you give names to the people who kept walking by?" Answer: yes. She gave more creative names, but we both referred, quietly to ourselves, to the shaved head guy that would periodically appear, stand in my way for a few minutes, and walk off, as Moby. There were a couple guys who could have been Moby, but he got it cause he kept walking by. Enjoy your techno-electronicically musical veganness bald man!

I ate a burrito before the show.

10:33 p.m.

Monday, Jan. 30, 2006

Some Marmalade

Today started my semester with two classes: biography of Paris (a literary and cultural journey...what has been made artistically) and Psycholinguistics (very long word and a long class...actually I quite like it already).

The Prof's in each class appear nice and learnable so far. Each class is quite full , the latter class more full-in the early 100's-which makes for economy class leg room in the theatre seating. A guy sitting next to me kept staring at me, amongst other class objects, but most of the stare I could guess to be at my thumb nails which are currently colored black. Later, when I ran into a friend of mine she noted my blackened nails and asked, "what's that mean?" with interest. What's it mean?

I like to paint my nails black.

Specifically, I had been thinking the last week I was at home in Sactown that I'd like to paint my thumb-nails black. Sometimes I like to paint my nails and I usually paint them black. They were done up so nicely this past Saturday night while I sat on my floor watching my only DVD- a copy of Kids given as present, along with about 30 boxes of valentine conversation hearts...birthday presents from Jas and Mikee (although the movie choice credit goes to Jas--when I turned 18 she gave me Pink Flamingos by John Waters)- and drank a pint of Schlitz, the Blue Bull.

Anyway, it's been a week since homemade pie for national pie day. Lady Manjaro gave a nice synopsis of our celebration with our new friend, whom we dubbed Frenchie (Lady used some other name, but damn the syllables on it are long--my law is that no more syllables per name than the letter 2 stands for in most non-abstract circumstances). Eventually I will write up my own side of the pie making, eating, and disappearing tea. Pictures too! Lady took some good ones as well. For now, I am eating birthday conversation hearts.

I think for valentines day I'm going to sit in my room with the lights off and play all my singles albums: compack disc, vinyl, maybe even some 'best of' albums because often that's just another way of saying 'singles collection', kind of like 'dank bar'.

10:00 a.m.

Monday, Jan. 23, 2006

Milking the citrus fragerance

Are you eating pie? Have you eaten pie yet? How many hours are left in your day (there'er 14 more hours in my day-judging an ending at 12midnight)?

EAT PIE!

It's national pie day. Eat pie. Eat pie now. Eat more. Beverage: optional. scroll down for my suggestions on a previous entry.

And by all means, have it lovely.

8:26 p.m.

Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2006

Dogs rob, but the love is free

Deciding to brighten up my life a bit I finally changed my computer desktop picture. For as long I've had my computer I have used the first available desktop picture from Kristy Versus the Zombie Army comic, made available through the update list. You know, one of those notifylist things where you enter your e-mail and if the creator updates they can send an e-mail to you and be like, "Yo, check it, I all up in updated and for realz here's some stuff because yous on the list." The only notfiy lists I get regular updates from are Kristy vs Zombie Army, Drew/Toothpaste For Dinner, and Orneryboy. There are a couple other lists that I'm on which come periodically and I wonder why the person sent me something, like they're monitoring all the people who check their site 1-5+ times daily. These are Dinosaur Comics, Hate Song, and Niego. Actually, Niego used to be a regular updater, but then the creator, Jason Sigala, stoped Niego and started another comic, which if you want to check out you can go to the Niego site I linked because I've already made a bunch of links. It's a link party!

Zelda not included.

As I was saying, I decided to brighten myself a bit, so I changed my desktop from a mostly black screen except for some white lines around a small bloody Kristy with devious smile. Too awesome. The brighter change comes from Sam Brown's Exploding Dog. I save copies of his pictures that I really like on my computer so I can look at them later. Usually they make me laugh, so that's a bonus aside from the fact I like his draw style. Compared to the previous desktop image I used, this one is quite a step lighter, but I really like it because I reminds me of how much I like to drink coffee in the morning. I like to drink coffee anytime really, but lately I've been keeping it to mornings since I think having caffeine too late in the day quite often may have contributed to my not sleeping well this past summer. Change!

In general I've been flirting with lighter shades that are about my person. Somewhat in terms of clothing, but also in things that I keep around me for asthetic purposes. For example, before I left on winter break I purchased another, that is my second, Toothpaste For Dinner shirt- the now extinct one from this comic- which is on a light blue tee. The first shirt I bought is also a recently retired model and also the only black shirt that was availabe, I believe, "The floor is made of lava!" shirt. Other than I liked this shirt, the main reason for buying it was because of it's blackness. Rarely do I tary into colors that are not somehow easily associated with black.

When it comes to clothes I am very picky because I find most of what people wear pretty ugly and annoying. Well, mostly people my age. The 'cool' clothes, as they would have been known when I was in gradeschool, are rather boring, ugly, and damn, damn, damned expensive. Not to mention that I'm finding it hard to tell people apart when many look so much the same. It's like when Jeph, of Valiant Geekness, had said to me years ago when we were driving back from some show in downtown Sactoe or something and we discussed cars- with what little I could say about cars- he said something like, "I can't tell the new cars apart these days , like (pointing to various cars) is that a Honda or Toyota or whatever..." It's a pretty sickening trend to think about nowadays, how when one item becomes popular, say a mid-size SUV or pre-ripped jeans, it appears that every manufacturor has their own 'version'. Bleh. Although rarely, people have pointed out to me when I make a 'fashion' mistake saying something like, "oh, don't you know it's not cool to wear such and such now?" To which I respond, "And what the fuck do I care?" If there is any rebuttle by the person it's usually along the lines of being accepted or having women think you are up on what's 'it', but I'm pretty well not up on things so why pretend. Then there's the disgust I'd feel, so forth.

So, cripes, I'm ranting. And to think I was all in dreams of pie earlier today. Mmm, pie. Well, I did get out of the house today, so that may be related as I saw people that were not in the television. Actually, I've avoided watching teevee all day, which results in me listening to music more (good), though sometimes I try to watch teevee and listen to music, which is quite difficult because I really want to do both and have an uncomfortable few minutes of not quite paying attention to either before I usually decided on teevee because most of my music is on cd, vinyl, or cassette. Woo.

Woos are necessary. Woos are needed. Not to woo one, but for personal woo'd-ness in ones day. Woo yourself damnit, because you deserve to be wooed.

I finished reading The Hotel New Hampshire, by John Irving, this morning after I woke up just before 8am, finishing what is undoubtably my 'winter break book'. Later I pulled off a chapter in The Silver Chair, as part of C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia, which I've been moving slowly through. Well, like most books, I've actually read through huge chunks in a day or two, then put it down and only touch the book to move it to another spot, and days or months later I read more here and there or take another chunk out. I've got a good memory, so after a couple sentences I can usually pull myself back together on what's going on in the story. Flipping back and scanning the last couple pages where my book-mark was placed also works well.

The next books I'm planning to start are The Tao of Pooh, by Benjamin Hoff, and A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess, of which the later I've already read and actually had just finished when I started this diary back in October of 03. Also known dreamily as "oh-three..." Having read A Clockwork Orange is what spurred me to use the name Oddy-Knocky for the diary name because it's from the nadsat language used by the marauding teens, well, not so much with the marauding but more like 'hey, beat you up, take stuff, fun fun...ahh my eyes'. My interest in existential philosophy is what solidified my using the name Oddy-Knocky as the translation means 'lonesome,' taken from the glossary in the back of my book copy. I merely gave an upper case O and K to the word to make it more name like, and the rest lays with my thoughts on being, as we each are, alone with ourselves.

Maybe Oddy's getting a little deep here, but you know what I say? I say we all get some pie and coffee.

11:23 a.m.

Wednesday, Jan. 18, 2006

P for Pie, Eat it now

HEY. Monday is National Pie Day. I suggest celebration with a slice of pie and beverage of choosing. For example: pie and coffee (I do accept), pie and tea (peppy peppermint, oafish orange, robust rasberry, or a simple earl grey), pie and glass of water (loser), pie with choice of 100% juice (loser with major plans to pick their nose), pie and hot water (add a squeeze of lemon for zest), pie and glass of milk (mom still wipes your ass?), pie and...some other beverage that I'll undoubtably make fun of a person for choosing.

There it is. Eat pie on Monday.

11:36 p.m.

Tuesday, Jan. 17, 2006

Rooftop mouthing off

Well, hello. I have been enjoying a similar state to total lethargy since I've come back to my apartment. Not totally, but to more of an extent than I was back at my parents house. I have not left my place, save for the garage, through which I enter my place and where the mail is deposited, for two days. Plans were made to leave, but on Monday, yesterday, I realized many people had a holiday for Martin Luther King Jr., so it was likely that any place I went would have more people throughout the day rather than lunch or after work. Plus I was thinking of going to school to purchase my class books, if most are in, but I figured the holiday also meant school would be closed. All the more reason to stay home. On the plus side I made a big bunch of pasta with carrots, broccoli, and tofu. And bread with melty cheese.

Today. Today I was just plain lazy. I slept in too, but I'm not sure why since I've been going to sleep around 11:30pm nightly, which I can correctly gauge as I've been watching Family Guy at 11pm on adult swim and I usually get through most of the episode before falling asleep. Of course my watching television as i fall asleep results in two problems:
a)poor vision=glasses=wear glasses to see teevee
b)teevee at foot end of bed plus a couple of feet= sleep at angle to see teevee= crick in neck (today*)

*That was the second time I wrote 'toady' instead of 'today', but now I'm spelling it correctly.

Now you know my predicaments. I sit around watching teevee, playing GTA (more like driving around until I run over people and get shot down...takes a couple hours), reading, getting dressed, cleaning dishes, sitting, listening to music, and so many other things that require not much energy.

I may be going back to my parents house tomorrow or Thursday, partly because that would be a reason to get out of the house, plus I'm planning to go back for my birthday, which is Saturday. So, my birthday. That's the next thing I have to look forward to, then school starting a week later. I start classes on the 30th. Holy crap. Why is the break so long? On one hand it's nice to have a long break and relax, but holy moley kitten-doodle, this is a long break. I've been off since Dec. 16th, making my break a week over a month in total.

Daaaaang.

I started to write an entry while I was back at my parent's place because it was the day after Lady Manjaro's birthday, the 6th, and to mock him a bit. Lady Manjaro is something like 24 now I think while I take the previous position of 23. Other birthday's are coming up for my friends, like Jas who's is 2 weeks after mine (another 24 I believe) then soon around that time is Em's, who's going for the quarter century mark and has agonized about plans for this occasion since at lease summer. That I know of. I am in no help in that manner, by the way, as I tend to not have any care to mark things or make big deal of things like my birthday. For me, the idea of my up coming birthday is more interesting than the day itself. Plus, I feel like there is a mistake that I am considered an adult now. I have the feeling that somehow a couple years were added one year and really I'm some kid who's getting away with voting and the ability to buy alcohol. Sounds like the beginning to an award winning screen play.

Okay, so, if you drink, drink to Lady and I's health of our birthdays. I already have been. My landlords bought me a case of 'beers of the world' and I've been drinking one a night. There's 10 in the case and I think 3 or 4 left. I've gotten to the dark beers and hot damn they're good. Actually, all the beers have been delightful except for one: the Croation selection. I forget what it's called, but it had an aftertaste that makes me think of paint. Not one to be wasteful I drank the whole bottle and wondered if I would have some sort of poison reaction in a couple hours. Other than alcohol poison. My liver is selective.

Gibbity.

1:33 a.m.

Friday, Jan. 06, 2006

Feeling Shivery, Quite Shivery

My camera has been getting some use. You know what that means. Pictures are up! On my! fuh...f-fuh...flickr.

There is some featuring Lady Manjaro in spazz action, there are some inanimate objects, and generally more inanimate objects. I've been taking lots of pictures lately, but I try to be selective with what I put up for variety. For example, I have many pictures of the flower, three were put up, and I was tempted to put more up because I like looking at them. Otherwise, I've got a bunch of pictures of Lady Stella (the Manjaro) with his roomates and some pics with Pete, but I'm wary of putting up pictures with people. Maybe later. The ones that aren't blurry once I take a closer look of course.

Of course I blame the subject. Stop moving and be a model. Make my picture come alive through non-movement. Stiff as a fine whisky. Solid as a maypole. Breathless as a vacuum (the non-cleaning kind- space like vacuum).

In the new year I've already been messing up. Already I made the year mistake of writing '05 instead of the now correct '06 on a form. But to make the matter worse, I filled out my name Last, First Last when I was suppose to write Last, First Middle on a DMV form. When I asked the woman why my last name was listed before and after my name, me thinking it was some legal or technical writing for government thing, and she told me that's what I wrote, giving me back the form with the little annoying half boxes- a half box per letter each. I disdain those little half boxes. As well the system of writing my last name first, then first and middle name. Most things have me programmed to do first and last. Rarely do I use my middle name since things like mail gets me confused with my dad who's first name is also my middle name.

Names names names. Wholly crap.

7:51 p.m.

Monday, Jan. 02, 2006

Breakneck speeds at utter stillness

I've been holding a salad fork with my left hand, which I used to eat about half of my large salad for supper, while controlling an online pool cue with my right hand-the dominant or writing hand of mine-to play exploding billards on ebaumsworld.com.
I played around 100 or so games with only a couple getting to the third stage and once, just once, getting to the fourth stage. The fork stood prongs skyward, resolute and ready, while the mouse moved about to the crampening of my right (or write) hand. I was holding on to the fork because I planned to use it for the eating of pumpkin pie, a leftover piece from last nights new years meal with grandparents and family. Grandma's pie really. Instead of putting down the fork in a clean spot or on a plate which would be used for the eventual eating of pie I decided to forge my brain power towards the playing of exploding billiards with determination. Determined to win, again and again. It did not happen.

As I said before, I played the game for about an hour, but now, now the pie is eaten.

10:41 p.m.

Saturday, Dec. 31, 2005

I had bread with honey last night

I had a totally eatable day. First I had lunch with Jas and Mikee at an Ethiopian restaurant, the same I had gone to for my birthday last year, and it was good, to put it simply. I have leftovers that will likely make way to my stomach tomorrow. That was at about 2:30-3pm. Then I went to dinner with my parents and a couple of their friends at an Indian restaurant. Everyone but me went back for seconds, we took the buffet option (which for this place is pretty darn the best option), but I could barely hold down one full plate. Eventually I got two tasty dough balls that are soaked in honey, I didn't think to look at the name of them so now I cannot google a picture to show everyone these delightful cylinders that are like a delicious donut. By the way, donuts are delicious. Along with my doughy dessert I had a cup of chai tea. I forgot to mention my beverage at the Ethiopian restaurant: Ethiopian coffee.

After dinner I was tired and ready for bed, but as usual I am staying up because I don't feel like going to bed. Probably because I know I'll go to sleep and I'd rather do something else than sleep. For some reason I'd rather sit around feeling tired than go to sleep, but not all the time, just when it would seem a good time to go to sleep.

I started reading The Hotel New Hampshire, by John Irving, a couple days ago, so I'd like to be awake to keep reading that since I like to read while sitting in bed at night. Me and like another billion people. We have solidarity through silence and back and forth eye movement as if watching a live tennis match. In Uganda they call tennis "giving you the finger" by which I mean they give you the finger. I'm kidding, I don't know that. But now I have a joke to share with you: whenever someone give the finger you and I can say, "oh, I guess they want to play tennis," then you can tap your feet and say "sorry, no shoes." Actually, we are wearing shoes, but the person will be focusing most of their blood power into giving the finger, so the mismatch of speech and action will not merge, then bunny rabbits may come by and who doesn't want to pet a bunny rabbit? If you aren't wearing shoes, well then you are telling the truth.

I'm about half-way through "The Silver Chair", part of the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, which is the second to last story, so I'm almost done with that set. I was taking a Narnia quiz online yesterday and totally rocked through the one on The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe, but before I finished I had to look up information about my car and while doing so my internet froze and I lost both screens. Where was that quiz? I do not know, but now I just remembered it, a bittersweet memory and when it comes to such a flavor only food is good enough. Thanks brain, bittersweet thoughts only make me think I need an anacid tablet. But really I don't. Wasted tablet. Mintry fresh, but wasted.

Still trudging through the C.S. Lewis book The Problem of Pain which I find interesting, but I often have trouble paying attention while I read either by environment-like at car dealership waiting room while my oil was being changed-or because my mind wants to talk about 30 or 102million other things in a couple microseconds. Again and again. Every microsecond is a chance for millions of thoughts. Thanks brain. Were up there with the count for stars. Sort of.

What else is new? I got new glasses. Did I mention that? Maybe. My eyes have grown a little worse and so a new prescription was in order followed by a new pair of spectacles. I forgot how much I dislike searching for new frames because, like clothes shopping, I find most items ugly. There were two frames, out of maybe 100 in the male frame section (frames by sex!), which I considered, but what helped the decsion was that the pair I didn't pick were made in Thailand or Indonesia or something of the like and I still have the distaste of looking at new pairs of Converse in my mind; Converse made in Indonesia under the labor of tiny hands. And I don't mean midgets! Or dwarfs! Okay, maybe some. Actually, I probably would have bought a pair of Converse if the bottoms hadn't changed, but whatever it is made out of now is bleh. Now my conscious laughs at me. "Sucker," says Consciey, "you knew this foreign childworked slave shoes wouldn't hold for you." So, that's like two products out of the tons of crap I have that I'll attempt to buy that doesn't have ethical question.

My current glasses frames were made in France. At least those children get baguettes.

NEXT! I cut my hair on Christmas. I've been thinking about cutting my hair for awhile, that is the longer part which scissors can cut, and finally I decided to do so while driving home from the mountains. So, I trimmed it down so I could stick it up like a small mohawk, but then I thought it looked bad because my hair is only long on top of my head, not all the way into the back. It took me about 10 minutes to cut and I was in a rush to meet Pete to go out drinking with some friends of his. The rush was because I am usually late to meet people, I wasn't in a rush to drink. Actually, I didn't drink for a couple hours because I might have been driving, but then it was worked out so I didn't have to drive and I started drinking at the bar. All my drinking was at the bar. I drank too much. That wasn't fun and when I got back to Pete's place where I was spending the night the room didn't stop spinning for hours. I also had a short coversation with the toilet about his friend Ralph. The next day I still felt crappy, so I went home and drank Gatorade while eating some burnt toast, then crackers, and finally some mexican food in the late afternoon. But I pretty much laid on the couch all day. Then I went out to a pizza by the slice place and some bars with Lasson and his friend who was interested in drinking due to a recent breakup...of his...from his girlfrind. I didn't want to drink, but free beer was involved, so I had a glass, but I didn't enjoy it as much when I got to the second half. At the bars I drank free soda because when you ask for soda they usually don't charge, so sometimes I tip them anyway.

I've been recently thinking about what would be the best way to go to a bar to get a free soda if I ever wanted one, like if I was walking around and thought, "Yes, I could go for a soda." I figure it's best to act like you're with other people so the bartender assumes you are the designated driver. That way I could sip free soda and giggle.

Okay, so happy new year. It's actually...okay so I was going to say it's almost midnight in my area of the world, but the time passed while I looked at older toothpastefordinner drawings, so here's one to look at for good thought: finger report.

12:14 p.m.

Wednesday, Dec. 28, 2005

Just one touch

Festivating the year's end and season of cold tidings. I put up new pictures that mostly involve my past days in the mountains where I spent Christmas with the parents. Flickr up your life, for a moment.

10:29 p.m.

Saturday, Dec. 24, 2005

Drink some alcohol too; whisky up that nog, and vodka up that whisky; then two shots of scotch for good measure. Stay away from open flames.

I have been sitting next to a fire all day, keeping my neurons working on 'low', and avoiding any type of festive sweater. What can I say, with all the tube I've been watching I have learned that crew neck sweaters that feature something along the lines of snowflakes, pine trees, a single reindeer, anything that calls upon one to 'ring in the season' (a cheerful bell perhaps) is a necessary item. Is it hot inside? Well, now it's toasty for sure because you got on a genuine wintery, Christmasy, wool or some other sweat inducing material in a pattern that lets everyone person in visual contact know you are festive.

Speaking of festive, a laptop computer on your lap for over an hour is quite warm, and sitting near a fire that my dad keeps putting a new log into every 10 or so minutes makes things like a simulator for the inside of a furnace. Not really, cause then I'd be in a crispy form, and that'd make typing more difficult.

Once again I am spending a festive few days, since Thursday evening, in the mountains where there is close to no snow. If you are in a place where there is a lot of snow, I'd like to let you know, there is no snow...here. Please ship some in if you'd like, but do so via express, because I am leaving soon, and if it is not for me, ship it on the cheapest option. That's usually what I tell the postal people when I have a package to send.

Me: uhhh, I want to ship on the cheapest option.

Postal Person: Okay...(shakes box)what is it?

Me: A cassette, an audio cassette.

PP: (looks confused)

Me: Music.

PP: Do you want to send it CD rate?

Me: Is it cheaper than if I didn't?

PP: (Checks) No.

Me: No, the cheapest one please.

And you see, the please is the cherry on the icing of the cake. The cherry that everyone fights over because there was a time when cherries were prized for their sweet, seeded, fruitful beauty that only the worthiest of mouths may acquire.

My eyes hurt. Merry day. Get some pink cheeks. Eat special fruit. And laugh at something that involves discomfort for no less than one person.

12:04 p.m.

Saturday, Dec. 17, 2005

Phronimos

X-mas vacation, where the 'x' is anything you want it to be, but for me it means time off. For the moment I don't have much to say, but at least I wanted to mention I've got new pictures up on my flickr. Seems that I am keeping that up more than my writings at the moment, but then I've been school busy and haven't had much for the writing thoughts going on. I'd have had the flickr pictures up sooner, with the picture of three gentlemen, but my internet connection has been fickle at my apartment, so loading pictures was a pain. Now I'm home to holiday it up with family, friends, and a mole named Grendalin who prefers to go by Jack.

Merry seasons, happy libations, and a pint to every heart.

12:12 p.m.

Tuesday, Dec. 13, 2005

Bluddle

I made some weak coffee today. Usually I make my coffee nice and strong because I'm not sure how much grounds to add to my cone filter, so I keep adding more till I think there's about too much coffee grounds. However, seeing as I like my coffee strong, and I do, more is better than not. I'm guessing this preference for strong coffee is related to my father's preference for strong coffee. Hot damn (!) do I like how he makes coffee when I'm at home.
I remember the summer before this past one there was a day I went home, for the day only, and before my night drive home I asked for some coffee. Although only my mom and I planned to have a cup, my dad made a whole pot, and as he dumped in some delicious Peet's grounds my mother commented, "you don't need to put in that much, it's only for the two of us." In reply my fater said, "Yeah, but I like it strong." Woo! Weak coffee is for people who like to enter arm wrestling competitions.

Other than drinking weak coffee I've been lounging around as I head into the last week of the semester. Two of my finals were at the end of last week. Advanced statistics on Thursday, plus a takehome portion with SPSS which took me around four hours to complete a simple problem which took me only a half hour to do in full by hand (that is doing an single IV ANOVA with Scheffe, Tukey, and Dunnet unplanned comparisons). Then again, the problem only had 3 conditions with 7 participants per condition, SPSS would be faster for a larger problem set...and if I remembered how initially enter the data, which I did, eventually. Most everyone I talked to moaned and groaned about SPSS after the test. The test itself was fine and this time I finished-I didn't finish the mid-term, but because I was fully answering the questions I still aced the mofo like a really nice person would who offers ladies an arm to walk with and uses oily rags to wipes the noses of sniffling children-but the only problem I had with the final was trying to remember how to use the definitional formula for an ANOVA. So, technically I didn't finish this exam either, but I am confident I rocked the parts that were in dire necessitation of my showing said ability to rock.

For my second final, of two last week, I had an essay for my philosophy of mind class. No idea how I will do on this one, but I wrote it in plenty of time...further defined as 'the morning of said due date'. The night before was spent making a brief outline and trying to handwrite most of the paper before polishing off a fine copy on the computer, but around 2 or 3am I decided to go to sleep for a couple hours. I didn't sleep well as my mind was still going on about the paper (zombies!), which felt quite literally like a flashing spotlight in my mind and before my eyes, and at one point I thought I had an epiphany for the direction of my argument. Luckily I left my notebook and pen next to my pillow, so in the dark I grabbed my pen, deciphered the mid-lower part of the page- below other notes made sometime earlier (in light)- and wrote "Zombies as conceiveable is a point to consider-". After a couple hours of difficult sleep I finally convinced my eyes to open and moved my body on over to have a look at my notebook to observe my nighttime scrawled genius. Then I had myself a good laugh. See, my argument was already about the difficulty of the conceivability of zombies, and the zombie argument itself rests on zombies as conceivable, so mentioning this fact somewhere was probably important. Thanks brain, you try hard even in the most delusioned moments.

Now we are at today, where I am finishing up some laundry, finished a second cup of weak coffee, and will eventually move on to some casual studying for my psychology of stress class, then meet with a friend to continue working on my ethics take-home final. I can offically say that I am taking things quite lazy with a capital "T".

I think this is a good time to spin around in my computer chair and make car revving sounds.

11:18 a.m.

Friday, Dec. 02, 2005

Marshmello and Gummi

Looking over at my thermos of hot coffee, my daily staple taken to school which provides a wonderful 'clunk' whenever I sit my bag upon the hard ground and suspicious eyeball those around me, I notice a small dime size pool of water at the base of the thermos, sitting atop my carpet. In a flash I make for the half sheet of a paper kitchen towel torn off the day before to clean up milk splashes. Grabbing the paper towel I dash two steps over to the thermos, swatting it away like a gremlin going for a buffet. Quickly I went into blotting action, dabbing strategically at the water slowly beginning to soak in, wetting each carpet hair individually. As I finshed up with the last swipes a sudden shudder comes over my person and I fall on my side to weep.

"Oh damn!" I scream, curling into a ball, grabbing my knees for comfort and squeezing. "I've spilled water, ever so much hot water, on the Lady's carpet!" It happened a week earlier. Visiting the Lady's house I dashed about the hardwood floors, happily announcing each jolly tromp as mine. To settle me down Lady lured me to his room and revealed a large silvery object, with speakers, sitting beside his bed atop a large plastic tub. Four-track. "Ohhhh," I drooled out and shuddered.

After doing a dance involving throwing my arms about in precisely measured timing to a 1-3-5 structure I dashed over to the silvery machine, about as big as my own torso, hugged her glad, spun around and set up shop at the end of Lady's bed. To keep an eye on me like a sitter, Lady flipped on his X-box to make for some Halo playing with the downstairs portion of the house in multi-link play. "I'll burn you all down," Lady shouted to his opponents on the downstairs large screen consisting of Lasson and a roomate who kindly dubbed me "Magoo." While Lady initiated play with some artful finger dancing to the 'x' key to begin I grabbed his most available music instrument, a guit', in order to cron some sweet sounds onto a blank tape.

I was in need of a chord to attach the 'two strings tune' guitar to the four track, input one, and was faced with a decision for the route of acquirement. The chords sat inside the plastic tub, the same which the four track delicately sat apon, but to get to this tub I would have to cross the visual path of Lady, who was transfixed on his Halo game-shouting "He's on fire!" in a automated voice with every kill- or execute some sort of roll across the bed behind where Lady sat. Knowing that the bond between ones visual field and the television is a sacred space I decided to move behind Lady, but in a less delicate than anticipated manner.

Half-heartedly I attempted a sort of roll maneuver, but ended up stradling Lady from behind as I became suddenly aware of my shoes nearing his bed and quickly darted them to the nearest space of floor. One shoe to each side of Lady they landed. Lady noticed nothing but kept mumbling, "chord's in the box..." Building up momentum for the final push over I swung my right leg up an over Lady like a failed acrobat, nearly making contact with the gentleman whom I was de-stradling. My left leg meanwhile made it's own tilt beneath Lady's legs where a topless thermos sat half full of boiled water, carelessly steaming away, and a gourd of yerba mate tea leaves moist, ready for another bath of hot water anytime. Or so it could have been, but I knocked over the thermos of water, tearing Lady from his blissed gaming state. Unaware of my blunder I completed my mission of attaining a chord to attach the guit' to four-track. Turning to Lady to announce my victory I catch a glipse of him quickly grabbing the thermos laying on its side, dumping the water like a broken gate on dam, trying to salvage what he can of not only the water, but the carpet from being soiled. As I begin to question, "Whadja do," Lady jumps at me with hands grabbing the chords to wrap around my neck and hang by a hook I had unfortunately only just noticed, but was fully aware as the hook fully supported my weight while I watched Lady clean up the watery pool spreading under his bed.

"Really, it's okay Oddy," Lady said without hint of disgust as he grabbed a nearby towel and blotted up the mess, likety split, "it's just water." With what little breath I could manage I'd choke out a "I'm sorry," and made pitiful hand motions. Once the water was cleaned Lady delicately detached me from the hook and unwound the guitar chord from around my neck. Looking at the spot on the ground now clean of spilled water I notice a little mound of what looks like cat puke. I mention this to Lady, figuring the mound to be spilled mate as no known cat occupies the house, and with a calm voice Lady looks up at me and says, "See, now you've gone too far." Then he reaches for a object that I cannot fully describe except as being a chrome type metal that I assumed to be very cold. While Lady began to describe his intentions with the cold, metal object his roomate, Obbey, came up to gloat his Halo victory, killing one more person than the famed Lady Stella. Thrusting in the air haphazardly, Obbey noticed me cowering in the corner and inquired to Lady about my state, maintaining his thrusting dance.

Lady explains about the chord, spilling water and mate, and in reaction Obbey looks at me, puts his hands on his hips and with head cocked to the side says, "Magoo!"

11:31 a.m.

Thursday, Nov. 24, 2005

Imma

Pictures up on my flickr . I've used up my months alotment of space and Lady should be happy as he asked me to put up pics last week. Though, he wanted me to put up my pictures from Santa Cruz. Oh Lady, I'm on a schedule here: everything on an untimely basis, and if not that, later.

I have stringent work ethics and a vocabulary that aims to make anything that can cry. I'm just inflating myself.

It's Turkey day, or as I told Em in my last e-mail to hers, Tukey day. That's right, the statistical Tukey test. Named after Tukey. Eat some turkey, do a Tukey test. What could be better.

Sitting in a comfy chair, indeed!

10:03 p.m.

Tuesday, Nov. 15, 2005

Prop-poor Accuracy

Been days, as they say. So, if you have not checked Lady Stella's latest writ, you outta. Here's an enticement: steam, stache, and multiple bodies! There's a little Oddy in there for good measure.

As the good Lady said, we went down to the Cruz this past weekend for a short Fri/Sat. stint. Saw Lasson, the Coxswain, in his latest acting extraveganza. Deathly good and gaseous! Natural attributes of the man himself. After the show, where Lady demonstrated his talent to be an utmost observer through his closed eyelids, Lady "porn stache" and I met up with Lasson for revelry, commentary, and an aim for food. Pizza and beer.

Dropping off our cars and overnight items-my denture sized toothbrush and extra tight sleeping speedo, Lady's self portrait cardboard cutouts: ornery, perkey, and consoling-the four of us (four? TA Lasson's tagalong) headed for some pizza on foot. A short walk as a man with pizza on his shoe and four hungry males doesn't get very far. I'm mocking my own sentence structure and I don't even study english. En route to our eatery destination Lasson and Lady chatted up their high stature times while I hung back with the silent wingman who I filled in on the subtleties of my non-linear speaking patterns. Once entering the pizza place we all strolled up to the ordering counter and leaned with utmost cool, nodding at animate and inanimate objects alike. Response or no, you get a wink from me. Sure, there's hair in my eye, but I don't cry infront of just anyone; that hair has got to be a serious irritant.

We perused the fine selection of specialties while the woman behind the counter made suggestions like "get out of here," "stroking my hair is not permitted," and "this is why I carry a tazor." We went with pesto vegetarian and a large pictcher of Fat Tire to wash down the plantiful pie. After ordering Lady procured a fat wad of what appeared to be bills, but turned out to be stickers proclaiming KDVS, in various cool forms, and proceded to treat the 3 inch by 7 inch sheets as legal tender to slip generous and plentifly into the tip jar. A couple one inch pins like pocket change for good measure. Meanwhile another friendly pizza maiden procured the pictcher of brew then returned to her slumped posture and vacant staring. All but Lasson had a mug, Lasson desiring to preserve his vocal chords for the sake of proper projection for his part and special drunken shenanagins, which was toasted high and tipped high. Lasson did touch upon my mug briefly, though, for beer is a lady that will not be denied for long. Uh, drink responsibly.

Little did I know the pizza was also a secret prize factory. A couple bites into my first slice I found a difficult speck to chew. "An odd piece of some vegetable, the part usually not served as food," I thought while pulling out a small white speck from my mouth, depositing it upon my plate for later viewing. Another couple bites and I found out this speck had an older brother. This growing boy was about half a prong from a plastic fork. Now I knew luck was on my side. Briefly I examined my slice to see if any more prizes awaited my mouthy search. A needle in the masticating haystack. Noting no other oddies after visual inspection I made another hearty bite. My goodness! Twins! Being on my first slice I could not have known my luck to be the only person to find complimentary disposable eating utensil pieces which only reveal themselves in the mouth like a sponge business card that magically expands in water. But really, I was not so lucky. Wingman found himself a piece not long after I questioned our choice of specialty pizza for its surprise topping and wingman began to mutter dismay at possibly swallowing a take-home prize piece.

In the midst of our merry pizza pie devouring session a gaggle of teen girls made a ringing entrance, turning the dining area decible level up to painful. I'm not sure what they talked about, but it was high pitched and nearly made a grown man, a poorly time passerby, cry before his head exploded. His head only exploded. As quick this gaggle made an entrance, they all left in full sprint out the door and around the corner. One fair dear who is not used to sudden changing conditions of tile floor to carpet-mats turned her gazelle like dash into a possible death match with head-on aim for the closed side of the dual door entrance. In a quick moment of inspiration and a draft she barely missed the door and slid out on the bloody remains of the man who's head exploded exploded head remains, shouting out to her friends the nearness of her collision and the content this experience would provide for her live journal. Good-luck there Bethany, nothing is too personal for your writing career. In fact, here's a title: "Me: An Expose." Except when you tell people the title you'll say "Exposse."

Lasson and Lady Stella took a moment of silence when taking notice of my starting a 3rd slice of pizza not far behind them. "You notice," Lasson knowingly pointed out,"he hasn't been talking as much," with a quick addition by Lady, "and no longer wearing flare pants has made good use of his ankles." To celebrate my quicker eating pace, Lady and Lasson ordered a small cheese pizza to split. I finished my beer as the last morsel of their supplementary pie slid down two satisfied gullets. Gullets must be satisfied from time to time you see. Finished with our meal we took to the streets, strapping on the necessary gear for the chill weather.

Our Foursome, me, Lady, Lasson, and Wingman, took slow pace down the main strip, considering our options for the next course of action, but ultimately heading back to Lasson's. Along the way we passed Lasson's old work at the guilty-pleasure of an ice cream store, stepping inside to have a visit... Standing outside the cookie shop I ask Lady if he'd like a cookie as I was already determined to get myself a sweet round snack. Lasson did not appear to take interest in my offer, nor did Wingman, though I wasn't standing around making offers; I had a date with a cookie in my tummy. Under dollar for a chocolate mint chip (for a one Oddy) and a cranberry pornstache complimenter (for a leering Lady) later and satisfaction was had as the Lady brought out his yakkma tea gourd for fresh hot sips to pass around. We stood our ground for awhile as Lasson was making conversation with a couple he knew from school and I briefly conversed about as they turned out to be from my-Lady and Lasson's as well-home town. At some point, moving on was to be had, and moving on was done.

The rest of the night was spent at Lasson's pad entertaining ourselves with items for special guests. It started with Lasson's Cananda trappings of flavored potato chips you cannot find in the US of A, with a shared Lucky beer split between Lady and I. There was also some fridge candy and another Lucky for I as no one else found the beer palatable. Everyone else gave an "ugh," to the taste, noting the unfortunate American equivalents, while I retorted, "yes, I can see how it tastes bad, but I like it," then proceeded to make another black labeled (the cans were black, not Black Label beer, of which I've not made acquaintance) friend. "Psst," he said. "I've got a secret." "Yes," I eagerly replied, pulling the can close to my lips. "Take a swig and I'll tell ya," came the sweet command to which I could do nothing other than comply. Raised to my lips, pouring in carbonated beverage I was given a special message.

This cannot be held in, I decided, I must share with all! Taking hold of a quiet moment I made known my having something to say with no particular use of an announcement talk, but rather a sentence ending in a non-sequitur: "Jeffersons."

Said to the right people, it makes for quite the killing of giggling smiles.

11:31 p.m.

Tuesday, Nov. 08, 2005

Hu-wa-baba

I have new photos, as of a week ago, on my flickr site. And this time I'm not trying to eat your brains.

Brains!

10:57 p.m.

Tuesday, Nov. 08, 2005

What else to do with one shoe

Been days, but I am still here. Here I am...thanks (sniff), thanks for lookin' for me.

Other than my usual being busy with school stuff and feeling the lack of updating topics, I have moved. Moved on all to with myself. That is I am living alone now as of this past weekend. Zip, bang, moved. Seriously, it was like that. I don't have much stuff, mostly books, cds, and other little crap that fit into bag after bag. My parents came down with a friend so with my car and my dads truck there were two trips and finito! Actually, I made a trip on my own before my parents arrived, so that helped with the quickness. Then we had lunch, hung out for a bit, and my parents headed home to do whatever else they had going for them that day. Me, I went to my old place and cleaned. I was so worn out that night I just cleared a place on the floor of my new place and slept with blankets wrapped about me. Quite nice actually.

The weekend I decided to take the place where I currently live I hung out with my new landlord and her kid while we talked business. Most of our talk was just about what we do and so forth, the business talk was cut and dry. The real fun of this story was her son. He's still young enough to blurt things out from curiousity and innocence. At times when I'd stand around with my hands in my pockets he'd walk up to me and grab my arm to take my hand out, then observe my hand with wide eyed wonder. One of these times he grabbed my arm and sniffed me, then said, "you smell like fruit snacks," with a smile. Thankfully he didn't bite. That was funny because I bought some fragerant soap recently as I was out and this stuff looked like the bars I was using before, but it turned out to be more sweet smelling. Anyhow, I'm glad to state that I smell like fruit snacks.

Another fun item this kid pointed out about me is behind the physical. Walking behind me he suddenly blurted out in question, "why do you have a small butt?" I laughed as I considered telling him about genetics and adding that white persons, as myself, are not known for their noticable keisters. Heck, I once asked my mom what most people sit on since I seem to get only bone for support. She told me that the bone is what you do sit on, oh good, but there's a little cush. Uh, I don't think I have cush.

In light of these observations of a young mister I thought they make for good descriptives about my person. Observe:

Oddy: smells like fruit-snacks

Oddy: has a small butt

If that doesn't make you want to read more about me, then your missing the fragerant end matter.

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