I Have I(rritable)B(owel)S(yndrome)

Geetha is doing a report on me for one of her Religious Studies classes. We are doing the second of three interviews today. Problem is, Geetha lost her voice. Well, not really a problem. Anyway, due to Geetha's infirmity, she had David call me to tell me when to come over. David then said that he would be watching THE GAME while we were doint the interview, and that there was to be no funny stuff. What?!?!?! No funny stuff!!! Asking no funny stuff from me is like asking a shark not to swim, or a high schooler in a band not to be ridiculously boring and self involved. It just doesn't happen. Also, the other week Geetha wanted to go to the Comedy Sportz but David didn't. Geetha asked if she could go and take a date. David's response: Only if it's Andrew. And I have been out on "Girl's Night Out" quite a few times with th work peeps. Somehow I have slipped into that ever comforting yet excruciatingly infuriating role of "Non-Threatening Male Friend". Lamped.

So, apparently I can go off the handle. Ummm... I don't really know how to handle all this crap that I've done. Sometimes people just snap I guess. Anyone wanting to help out the situation, give a hand, please. I e-mailed you Marie, but I don't know if you got it. I guess I shouldn't try to force things.

I'm on a computer at school. I cannot read many of other people's blogs. Apparently many of them contain a banned word. I would venture a guess that this would be the "F!!!!" word. It won't even display the comment Brad left for me about the thieves, or thiefs (Thursday, May 19th). Although the Bard had the restraint to not use unsaid word on his blog, thus providing me with a good old hit of '96 nostalgia whenever a computer is humming and being attacked by Linux users.

Peter and I played pheonetic/slang Scrabble the other day. Carlos and I inveted this a few years ago. The only "rules", which are fairly loose themselves, are that the words have to be spelled funnily, or not make sense, or just be funny for no real reason at all, or whatever you want to do 'cause it is not a real game. This lead to such great words as UBFLION, for when you take a plane, and POMONENTO, like that olive thingy thing. Some examples from Pete's and mine'ses game:

GNCHEEL
-"G 'n Cheel" Like some guy who is gangsta and laid back.
REECIASNS
-"Reeky Asians" Thank you Peter.
GOYJOO
-"Goy Jew" Quite a predicament if you ask me.
REIREFUDE
-"Re-irrefude" To not refude, again.
BANWHAXOR
-"Ban WhaX0r" The "R" was a blank tile, so Tim and Woo read it as "Ban WhaX0", which works just as well.
ITEEVODRAYZBAGS
-"I TiVo'd Ray's Bags" Huh?

Normal things bore me.

It strange the memories you can attach to certain things that have very little to do with what they actually are. (What? My thoughts are losing cohesiveness at an alarming rate.) For example I give you music. Often a song will remind you of a point in your life just by being what you were listening to at that point. Even if you have no idea what the lyrics are, or if you know they are totally trite, a song can evoke all sorts of feelings for you that are completely unrelated to the song. I was listening to some Peter Gabriel the other day. For me, Peter Gabriel evokes the memory of going to Washington D.C., playing Sonic the Hedgehog on Game Gear, the feeling in my stomach I got when I discovered I was allergic to erythromycin, etc. These are memories of fourth grade. Yup. Just an odd thing.

But then there are other times when the actual content alligns with something in your life. Case in point: the Story of fred Jones. Fred Jones is a character that has shown up in two Ben Folds songs. Well, one Ben Folds song and one Ben Folds Five song. Anyway... the first Fred Jones song is Cigarette:

Fred Jones was worn out
from caring for his often
screaming and crying wife
during the day
but
he couldn't sleep at night for
fear that she
in a stupor from the drugs
that didn't ease the pain
would set the house ablaze
with a cigarette

Then there is Fred Jones, Part II:

Fred sits alone at his desk in the dark
There’s an awkward young shadow that waits in the hall
He’s cleared all his things and he’s put them in boxes
Things that remind him: ’life has been good’

Twenty-five years
He’s worked at the paper
A man’s here to take him downstairs
And I’m sorry, mr. jones
It’s time

There was no party, there were no songs
’cause today’s just a day like the day that he started
Noone is left here that knows his first name
And life barrels on like a runaway train
Where the passengers change
They don’t change anything
You get off; someone else can get on

And I’m sorry, mr. jones
It’s time

Streetlight shines through the shades
Casting lines on the floor, and lines on his face
He reflects on the day

Fred gets his paints out and goes to the basement
Projecting some slides onto a plain white
Canvas and traces it
Fills in the spaces
He turns off the slides, and it doesn’t look right
Yeah, and all of these bastards
Have taken his place
He’s forgotten but not yet gone

And I’m sorry, mr. jones
And I’m sorry, mr. jones
And I’m sorry, mr. jones
It’s time

As you may have guessed, these make me think of my dad. Around the time the second song came out he had been laid off. Now, these aren't mirror images of the Price household but there are enough similarities that they strike me kinda hard. Sometimes I think about what my dad had to go through and... well... I don't know how to explain it. It can hurt, but at the same time it can be really helpful and calming. I don't know how to explain it. After my mom died I was one of those people who just tried not to think of things that might be depressing. I don't recommend this. At least in my case, facing your pain causes you to grow. A lot of people don't understand this. They think that i want to totally forget and thus act careful around me in what they say. This sucks. It's like not only have you lost someone important in your life, but you are also denied the opportunity to remember that person. Some people think that I'm just trying to get pity like "oh, my life is so much worse than yours", when I'm just trying to do what people do with everything that is weighing on them. I don't konw where I'm going with this. Sometimes I think about what my life might be like if I hadn't lost my parents. Can any of you actually imagine what I would be like interacting with my mom? Sounds weird, doesn't it. Sometimes I think about how all this has shaped me. Am I a better or worse person because of what happened? Anyway. I don't know. I should get to work soon.

Marie, Mea, if this pisses you off like I'm sure it will, I don't know what to tell you. I'm not trying to minimize whatever it is that goes on in your life, I'm just trying to treat my own feelings with the respect they deserve. And by the way, Marie, please stop telling people how much I hate you, and how you hate everything about me, and how I'm an unfeeling bastard that doesn't understand loss, and that your cat was as important to you as my parents were to me. I'm not telling you to stop thinking these things, but please stop ripping into me. I don't need this now. I don't need people telling me how pathetic I am. I am reminded of this everyday when I wake up in another family's house, when I get home after a crappy day and don't have anyone there to try to cheer me up, when I desperately want someone to actually think that I might be someone worth calling or doing something with but it doesn't happen, and on and on and on. Please, stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

I am the King of eBay!!!!!!!

Easiest money I've ever made.

Hardest work I'll ever make myself do.

And I think I got into LMU. I haven't actually heard from them but I can log into PROWL, their student information system thingamajig. I am an 1337 h4X0r!!! (And "No!" I don't pronounce that "elite", I'm just doing my stupid "an" thing. Read that "an leet haxor". That is all.)

So I got up here to Berkeley yesterday, and boy are my arms tired. I learned that one at comedy traffic school, and the only people to get that inside joke probably won't read this. Anyway.

I'm up at Berkeley and am hungry. Tim suggests we go get some sandwiches since he can get them for free. So we go to the sandwiches place and fill out our little spec sheets that determine the qualities of our sandwiches. At the bottom you write your name. Seeing as how I was writing with one of those two inch long pencil stubs that are all the rage in boardgames and unimportant form filling in... what... that sentence sucks... anyway, my writing wasn't looking too good. I had some serious three years old scrawl goin' on. Seeing that it looked so immature, I just took it all the way and wrote my name as:

AndreW

I think case differentiation is what separates children from adults. So I give them the form and they start to make the sandwich. They call Tim's name, and he gets his. I must be next. I go and stand in front of the counter while they finish making my sandwich. Alas, after taking longer than I thought they would, they finish. At this point I'm looking right at the sandwich artist, they look down at my spec sheet, and sound aloud:

On Dray Double You!!!

I just look at them, with a huge smile spreading it's way across my face, grab my sandwich, and leave without saying a word. I then proceed to laugh my butt off outside. I guess me and sandwiches equals comedy.

(Why does my Langer's frozen apple juice concentrate say "100% Juice" on it? Shouldn't it be like 400% or something? Anyway....)

So, the Blazer got rocked. Or maybe, it got crowbarred. Possibly the garbage, which included a discarded door, did the trick. Anyway, the Blazer no longer has a passenger side window and the adjacent seat is full of glass. Also, my CD player and backpack were taken. Things that were not taken:

Parts to build a guitar with including neck, body, and pickup.
Wallet full of CD's
Can of tuna.
Can opener to open said can.
Jerusalem Bible illustrated by Salvador Dali.
Handicap parking permit that doesn't expire until June 2005.
Parking ticket that needs to be paid by Friday.

Anyway, seems like I ended up in the black, kinda. But seriously, why did they have to break my window? Don't thieves usually jimmy the lock? Even if they weren't willing to do that they could've gone through the back window which DOESN'T LOCK!!!!

So, if anyway has the hookup for cheap auto glass, let me know. Also, anyone with the new Modest Mouse CD, it would be great if you could make me a copy to replace the one that was in the CD player. But really, the greatest thing would be for people to leave my poor car alone.

(Oh, and "quid" is the new "money" which was the old "cool" which is common vernacular for something being "good".)

So the other day I'm at Sears, you know, 'cause I work there and junk, and I'm talking to one of my managers. So we're going up the escalator talking about something, either how I was awesome or how I had screwed up, when a customer behind us that neither of us had noticed starts talking to us.

Customer(I assume. Didn't actually see her buy anything.): Have you noticed that right now we're taking Schindler's Lift.

The escalators are made by the company Schindler. Awesome. More Sears stuff... NOW!!!

Patriotism is the New Black

So I'm folding shirts the other day 'cause I had nothing else to do. They were cheap shirts. Five bucks. They were also "patriotic". They have a picture of an Eagle, the feathers of which resemble an American flag, say "Eagle" on them in big letters, and then say "An American Tradition". Wow! If you know me, I find most "patriotism" to be kinda funny, and this was no exception. So I fold like three of these shirts. Then I get to the fourth, but there is no eagle. Instead, Stockcar!!! Huh? Turns out it is a whole series of shirts. Baseball, Patriotism, Beer, etc. There was a "Handyman" one that had been printed wrong and did not say "An American Tradition", just a shirt that says "Handyman". My favourites though were "Hunting", with a picture of a deer on it, flagged hued of course. I guess we're supposed to shoot the flag. And the best, "Soccer, An American Tradition". What? Since when is soccer American? Soccer is a bigger sport in EVERY OTHER COUNTRY than it is in America. Have you heard of any soccer news since Brandy Chastain pulled off her shirt in the '99 World Cup? I think the only less American sports would be Rugby, 'cause it is like football but way better, and Jai-Alai. Anyway, the construction of the shirts is also interesting. In big letters on the tag: Fabric Made in America. Then below in a much smaller font: Assembled in Mexico. I guess they should have made another shirt, "Outsourcing". Anyway....

The Midwest, according to Carlos:
(btw, 'hio is Ohio)

SDLoser: Yo.
zeroami: hey
SDLoser: Here from the 'hio yet?
zeroami: yeah
zeroami: that fell through
zeroami: and it turned out it was actually idaho
zeroami: way different in a not so different kind of way

From the Rap Dictionary:

lamp
1) (v) To hang out next to a streetlamp. "I'm on the street, cold lampin'" -- Public Enemy (Cold lampin' with Flavor).
2) (v) To relax while others panic.

And here are some others.

lime
1) (v) Hanging around with friends of family.
2) (n) A casual gathering of friends and family. "This lime has no juice", this gathering is dull.
lunch
(v) To act stupid or crazy.
really doe
(interj) Wrong spelling of "Really though", used to emphasize a point. Ice Cube (Really doe).
dolo
(n) Like delf/self, dolo/solo. I go for dolo -- ??? (?? [??]).
be geese
(interj) To leave. "Yo we be geese"
beam me up, Scotty
(interj) Give me crack.

Take that, OED!

From the song "Twelve" off of Jurassic 5's Quality Control:

Ayo I'm lampin, I'm lampin, I'm cold stone lampin
High pitch, beat drumsticks like Lionel Hampton

What have we stumbled into?

So Peter has stated that people like bullet lists. Let's examine why.
•Lists are easy to start. Nothing is as daunting as many paragraphs of stuff.
•Lists often abandon the use of certain parts of speech making full sentences short little thought morsels.
•People feel like they are reading really fast when they read a list, making them feel smart.
•Lists allow for quick one liners and inside jokes.
•The constable is in the water closet.
•punctatin grmarnd spellig cn oft be ditchd
•People who write blogs are usually boring folk who never do anything. Lists sort out the chaff.
•Lists give the impression that one has a lot to say.
•Even if they don't.
•They can just keep making new bullets.
•And no one can stop them.
•Unless they can catch them in their teeth.
•The bullets that is.
•I don't think a Saber Tooth tiger could do that.
•That is why they are extinct.
•Too many bullets and too little intratooth contact.
•This is why dogs are better.
•There are many other reasons why dogs are better than cats.
•The natural shape of the dog's mouth makes it look happy. Cat's look pissed off all the time.
•Dogs can open their mouths wide enough to wrap around an intruders leg. So can tigers, but they are expensive.
•....

Bobby Flack's blog, February 26th:

Weblogs are a beautiful thing. It is bringing back the idea of storytelling on a written level. Albeit, there is a lot of " so i went to da mall todai and omg, darren wuz 22222222 hot!!" but bypass all that and you find the gold in the bottom of the pans. Like struggling through all the pr0n to get to da warez!

Just imagining that being said in Bobby's voice cracks me up.

I was supposed to write a "research" paper for my English class. Turns out I'm such a "good" writer, according to the instructor, that I should enter some writing contest at Valley. Seeing as how the entries are due in less than a month, he has allowed me, and the few other people he informed about the contest, to write something for the contest instead of a research paper. What's better is that we can just revise something we have already written. Seriously, eventually someone is going to have to stop giving me incentive to slack off else I will never be productive.

FedEx returned today, with my fixed box. Awesome. They also sent me my member card yesterday, by FedEx. I wonder if regular USPS mail can even reach their offices.

Oh, and this may go without saying, but usually when David and I are talking about covering things in pancakes, we aren't being serious. That is unless one of us has an octopus on his face. Then you can be sure of the sooth in or speech.

Mouth Moose

Excerpt from Marie's blog, April 18, 2004:

Oh, bloggity, it's been a while. I keep meaning to be better about this... better about washing my face before I go to bed, better about sleeping from 12-8, better about going running, better about work... better better better... thinner whiter smarter, you know? But in my case, tan-er, not whiter.

That is all.

One of my fancy boxes (Digi 002 Rack) that I use for recording has been misbehaving. I'll called up the folks over at the company that makes it (Digidesign, in Menlo Park) and said:

Me: Dude?
Dude: Alright, dude.

(Actual conversation may vary.)

Anyway, they arranged to have me send it back and they would fix it for free. Awesome. They decided to use FedEx. Let me tell you, FedEx is the most awesomest company in the world. I got home like at 2:50 and was informed by Mr. Woo that I got a letter from FedEx. I open it up and see that it is a shipping label with instructions. I seal up my box, put on the label, and call to set up a pick up. Turns out you need a FedEx account to do this. So I set one up. I then call again to schedule the pick up. I talked to a robot the whole time, and the robot was incredibly adept at it's job. It understood words and numbers, and made helpful suggestions. I'm sure it would've been harder with a real person. So I set it up and decide to wait for the pick up. Doorbell rings at 3:20 and the package is sent. Yes, it only took 30 minutes for all of that. FedEx is awesome.

Questions

Mea: "If the earth's orbit was the size of a quarter, then the Oort cloud would be a giant beach ball [how many?!] feet wide!!" How many cows could a snowplow plow if a snowplow could plow cows?

The Oort Cloud is the cloud of terrestrial matter floating around the outside of the solar system. It is planetary matter that never formed a planet. That quote is from a book that Tim and I read when we did our comets, asteroids, and planetoids report in eighth grade. The answer is fifty feet. But she got the quote wrong. That should be "If the solar system were the size of a quarter..." not "If the earth's orbit was the size of a quarter..." What I especially like about the quote is the lack of simile. One could conclude from the quote that if the solar system somehow shrank, the Oort Cloud would become an actual beach ball. I am a semantic bastard. One time I won a round of reverse dictionary golf with "Oort Cloud". To play reverse dictionary golf you open up a dictionary, point to a word at random, and have the other people playing try to guess the word alphabetically closest to it's spelling, backwards. The original word was "kangaroo". This happened at CalTech. As for the cows, I think there is some OSHA regulation that prevents one from plowing cows.

David: why havent we watched spinal tap in i dont know how long? why isnt marie always covered in pancakes? (please no offense to take, i.e. i do not imply marie is a dog, or that she really ought to be covereed in pancakes at all times, becasue as she is, is the best way for her to be. i think i covered all the bases there. why do i get a rash in my armpits from some deoderants?

As the ratio of boys to girls at Tim's birthbays approached unity, Spinal Tap approached null. I'm not in the position to guess as to why that is, seeing as how half of that relation remains a mystery to me. I think Marie is trying to tan. The pancake might get in the way of that. As for the deoderant, the simple answer is that you are allergic to armpits. I suggest growing some sort of flap.

Tim: is there anything andrew doesn't know?

No. I know everything. Stop doing that. It will hurt in the morning.

Peter: what is kinesiology? and why should i care?

Doing a picture search with Google has led me to the conslusion that kinesiology is that art of moving other people's limbs.

This should be useful to you, seeing as how one day that smart mouth of your's is going to get your knee caps busted. Watch your back, anusface!