Smile Back

Kindle Screens: The Big Wahoo

2010-03-26T21:31:00.000-07:00

So, I got tired of dealing with blogger's awkward image tools. So I dumped all my Kindle screensavers on Photobucket! Have fun!!

Over 100 Free Kindle Screensavers HERE

Best,
Nix

DISCLAIMER AGAIN: Most of this work is not mine. These screensavers are made in the spirit of promoting some of my favorite artists, webcomics, books, tv shows, movies, etc. , and I do not in any way lay claim to them. I have credited the work of various artists wherever possible, and would be happy to add credit or remove an image upon request by the artist. End small print.

See previous Kindle Screensaver posts here.

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Here are some other sites with screens available:

Kindlerama: Assorted

Jackson Unit: Assorted

B. Tackitt: Assorted (many!)

Whatzits Galore: Disney Princess Noveau

Redeeming Qualities: Piranesis-Carceri

Kevin Guyer: Modern Authors

Nintendo Screensavers (in forum) (Zip File)
Original (Amazon) Kindle Screensavers (in forum) (Zip File)

The Story of Thomas and the Possum Head

2009-05-06T18:05:00.000-07:00

So today I’d like to share something from way back when. Something that remains to this day as one of the more surreal events of my life. I present to you:

The Story of Thomas and the Possum Head.

(You have to picture that last part with flashing lights and large, sweeping hand gestures.)

As I said, this was a while back, and Thomas and I were both still in high school. Now, when I was a sophomore, the pain-in-the-butt biology project was leaf-collecting in the fall and wildflower-collecting in the spring. I was a fall student. We had regular, designated leaf-collecting days and we couldn’t go home until we filled our list. I retain lovely memories of my 16th birthday, spent running around in the rain trying to reach vines in high places. Clearly, this was something that helped me grow as a student and a human being.

By the time Tom’s turn came around they’d decided to go with a different pain-in-the-butt project. This may or may not have had something to do with the spring wildflowers frequently refusing to bloom on anything like the time frame of the carefully scheduled lesson plans. No, for Tom’s turn they did ‘Biology-In-a-Box.’ They had a huge list of hundreds of Biology related items—“monocot leaf,” “bird feather,” “diatomaceous earth”—and Tom’s job was to find one hundred of the items on the list and put them in a box. Yet another grow-as-a-person assignment (excuse me, I meant “student-active learning project”).

Of course, actually finding one hundred of the list’s items (which included many of the spitefully non-blooming wildflowers and impossible to find leaves) was an ordeal which required many man-hours and whole-family participatory fun. (“Look, Tom! A mushroom! Do you have a mushroom yet? Is there anything on the list which requires a mushroom? What about a rotting log?”)

Students were not actually supposed to purchase items for their boxes—that would be discriminatory against poor students and bad—but as I have it on good authority that students were turning in boxes with walnuts and dried sage and grapefruits it’s safe to say that that rule was honored only in principle. As in, ‘I’ve been working on this box for months and I still need 25 more items and there’s two weeks left and if I don’t actually start making some progress on this thing I will go insane.’ That principle. (“Look, Tom! A Portabello mushroom! Do you have a mushroom yet?”)

So, as I said, time was running out, everyone was getting a little stressed and a little desperate, and correspondingly less selective and more creative (or possibly more demented). All of which goes to explain (for some value of the word ‘explain’) the moment when my dad was driving home from work, saw a road-killed possum, and thought, Ah-ha!

You see, one of the items on the list was ‘a skull.’ No, really. (And I think it’s fair to say, at this juncture, that if my father had crossed the line into psychosis he was well and truly pushed. We’re probably all just lucky no one had an ‘Ah-ha!’ moment looking at a younger sibling.) You may think you can see where this is going now, but believe me, imagination cannot do justice to the events that followed.

The passage of time not proving to diminish his newly formed resolve, my father returned home and placed an ax and a plastic bag in the trunk of his car. On his next trip home from work, he pulled over to the side of the road, took his ax, looked around for traffic, and proceeded to chop the head off of the rotting road-kill. (Did I mention this story is not for the weak of stomach? No? *Ahem.* This story is not for the weak of stomach.)

Actually, I should say he proceeded to attempt to chop the head off of the rotting, road-killed possum. As he explained it later ‘the neck was kind of leathery and rubbery. It wouldn’t come off.’ With increasing vigor he continued to whack at the dead animal, tension mounting. He was very aware of passing cars slowing down… and then speeding up; driving away very, very quickly from the crazy man with the axe dismembering road-kill.

Eventually, however, he succeeded in acquiring one possum skull, still inside one possum head. He put it in the bag, threw it in the trunk, and brought it merrily home. This was the point when the rest of the family was introduced into the venture. (“Look, Tom! A rotting possum head! Do you have a rotting possum head yet?”)

The possum head was foul. The bag did nothing. As I recall (the memory has grown blessedly hazy on the details) maggots were involved. The stench seemed to permeate everything. My mother very intelligently decreed that the thing was not coming anywhere near her house.

Now, if it had just been me, I would have had no idea how to go about removing a skull from the inside of a head. Color me a white-bread product of suburbia. But, apparently, the solution to that particular problem is to boil the flesh off of it (weak stomach people, have you left the building yet?). Once again, my mother very intelligently decreed that the thing was not coming anywhere near her house or her pots and pans, but she did dig out an old camping cook set that was collecting dust in the garage and deemed it disposable. Then, in a scene reminiscent of ritual sacrifice ceremonies (and also cookouts), we dug a pit in the farthest corner of the backyard, started a coal fire, and set the pot on to boil. (Yum!)

If possible, this made the stench even worse. It seemed to rise up on the steam like a tangible presence, spread through the yard, and sink into the pores of anybody unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. I don’t recall precisely how, but I was nominated for fire-watching duty. At that point, a freak fire, engulfing everything, might have been a mercy.

Although I was learning a lot about biology.

Anyway, time passed, my olfactory receptors mercifully took their own lives, nothing caught on fire, and eventually we had a possum skull amid a sea of some indescribably unpleasant matter that I will refer to in the most liberal of interpretations as ‘soup.’ (When Mom served spaghetti that night seven-year-old Matt piped up, “But I thought we were having possum for dinner?” I harbor serious suspicions that we warped him forever that night.)

The skull itself, when finally separated from the unmentionable horror it floated in and boiled a few more times in increasingly clean water (I use ‘clean’ only in the relative sense), was actually pretty neat. Improbably tiny, maybe three inches long at the outside, it was hard to picture it belonging to an animal the size of a possum. (My sources inform me—for about the billionth time during this writing—that the North AmToman version of this rodent-like marsupial is more properly referred to as an ‘opossum.’ My sources can go soak themselves in possum water—I’m telling this story and I’ll call it whatever I like.)

Anyway, the skull was tiny and perfect, the sharp little teeth were fascinating, and there was definitely an element of ‘nobody else has their very own road-killed possum head skull thing.’ This made it all the more distressing when the students turned in their ‘Biology-In-a-Box’ projects (cue sounds of family members snapping out of their psychoses) and Tom’s box was never heard from again. All traces of our hard work were gone; we were left with only memories, and a really disturbing story to tell at dinner parties.

Oh, and I guess Tom got an ‘A’ or something. I do know he escaped the 10th-grade, and went on to bigger and more pain-in-the-butt school projects, although none of them ever quite measured up to the Box’s sheer capacity for generating ludicrously farcical scenes. Oh, and I know one more thing:

Somewhere out there is a high school biology teacher cackling over an ill-gotten possum skull.

Kindle Screensavers again!

2009-05-05T22:43:00.000-07:00

Another post for my Kindle screensaver collection.

...somebody should really take away my Photoshop access. I can't stop myself!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's start us off with some screensavers made from classic art:

Escher

Girl With the Pearl Earring

Italianate Landscape (Jan Both)

A Picture just because (Luke Shorty)-

I don't know where these pictures came from, but these are some nifty tattoos!

Paul the Wineguy's Understanding Art for Geeks collection is hilarious!

I've been watching too much Buffy. I watched it while studying for my Genome Evolution and Biostatistics finals. I may never be able to separate Xander cracking jokes and segregation distortion ever again. But I do adore Spike!

Another from Girl Genius. The comic is awesomeness incarnate.

This one's a combo of sketches from Skin Horse and panel remix from a guest artist. Ah, Skin Horse. The ultimate misfit comic.

Looking For Group-- Laugh at things that shouldn't be funny!

A nifty scene from College Roomies From Hell. Sometimes I just can't make up my mind!

From Bunny:

Sam and Fuzzy! Ninja Mafia! Love!

'nother from Joe and Monkey...

Lily-chan pointed out I had somehow failed to make *any* Narbonic screensavers. I had to rectify that right away. Now we just need some Dave and Mel and Artie!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have you seen all my screensavers? I got bunches!

Omegle: The Meaning of Life

2009-04-27T18:39:00.000-07:00

So. Omegle is a new website which randomly connects you to an anoymous stranger in order to chat. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to go on a search for meaning. What follows is....

42 Conversations on the Meaning of Life.

Conversation 1:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: boys?
You: LOL
Stranger: or girls!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 2:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
You: *jeopardy music*
You: *tick tock!*
Stranger: lol
Stranger: im high right now
You: ...laughter?
You: ...drugs?
You: Those are passable answers.
You: kthxbai!
You have disconnected.

Conversation 3:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 4:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: SUUUUUUUuup
Stranger: there is no meaning
Stranger: i guess.
You: Oh noes!
Stranger: i dont know
Stranger: OH NOES!?
Stranger: i love ohnoes
You: Maybe ohnoes is the meaning?
Stranger: probably.
You: Cool!
Stranger: :D
You have disconnected.

Conversation 5: Reality is an Illusion

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: you get high then ye die
You: you are the second person to say that to me.
You: ...wild.
You: The meaning of life is drugs?
Stranger: fucking clones we are
Stranger: reality is an illusion through lack of drugs mate
You: good to know.
You: Cheers!
Stranger: nah the meaning really is
You have disconnected.

(It’s like one of those scenes where the messenger dies before he can finish the message!! Drama! What was the meaning?!)

Conversation 6:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: Hi.
Stranger: 42.
You: Yes!
You: DING DING DING!
Stranger: What’d I win?
You: …my eternal gratitude?
Stranger: WOOHOO!
Stranger: Okay, but seriously.
You: srsly?
Stranger: What’s up?
You: I am seeking the meaning of life on the internet!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 7:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hi
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 42
You: YES!
Stranger: YEEEEAH!
Stranger: SWINE FLU
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 8: The Book

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hi
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 47
You: ...?
Stranger: Or was it 46? I can't remember...
You: You forgot the meaning of life?
Stranger: 42! There we go.
You: Yay!
Stranger: Sorry about that. ^.^
You: That could have been a life-altering mistake.
Stranger: Yes, it could have been.
You: Crisis averted.
Stranger: Aye.
Stranger: So, how are ya?
You: Seeking the meaning of life on the internet!
Stranger: Don't, you'll be disappointed.
You: You think?
Stranger: I've already told you much more than they ever can.
You: So far my answers are drugs, drugs, I don't know, 42, 42, 47.
Stranger: Also: you should read a Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy.
Stranger: In it, the meaning of life is 42.
You: Excellent.
Stranger: As told by a GINORMOUS supercomputer who was built to do nothing but determine the meaning of life.
Stranger: Good stuff, really.
You: Cheers!
You have disconnected.

Conversation 9:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
You: hurry hurry!
Stranger: well
Stranger: depend of you.
Stranger: there's no meaning.
You: Oh noes!
Stranger: if you do what you like, live the way you want... I don't know;
Stranger: why?
You: I am seeking the meaning of life on the internet.
Stranger: HAHAHA, but, the life has no meaning.
You: Oh noes! (x2)
Stranger: why this is so important?
You: ....well, it is *life.*
Stranger: but. someday you'll go. you don't have to waste time thinking about the meaning
You: I should waste my time on something else?
Stranger: yeah
You: Cool!
You: Cheers!
You have disconnected.

Conversation 10:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: Hey! What's your country and native language?
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
You: ....I'll answer yours if you answer mine.
Stranger: the answer to life, the universe and everything = 42
You: Yes!
You: USA- english.
Stranger: Canada/French, myself
You: Awesome.
You: Cheers!
You have disconnected.

Conversation 11:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: nothing, die
You: Aws...
Stranger: webcam it too
You: life?
Stranger: sup
You: I am seeking the meaning of life on the internet.
Stranger: what did you find out so far?
Stranger: because honestly. i dont know
You: nothing, drugs, drugs, I don't know, 42, 42, 47, nothing, nothing.
Stranger: i ike drugs
You: It does seem to be popular.
Stranger: yeah, but when you od its no fun
You: That would be the second part of your response.
Stranger: oh well, good luck with your search
You: Thanks!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 12:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: love
You: Neat!
Stranger: yep
Stranger: what do YOU think is the meaning?
You: that's actually pretty close to my own response. :)
Stranger: haha
Stranger: what did you say?
You: happiness or 42 would be the first two words coming to mind.
Stranger: whats 42?
You: The answer in the book The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Stranger: OH
Stranger: oh
Stranger: i remember now
You: I like 'love' better than 'happiness.'
You: It's more specific.
Stranger: tehehe
Stranger: thank you
Stranger: i work hard on that
Stranger: have a good day now
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 13: I am a wise stranger.

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 42
You: Yes!
Stranger: I want to strangle myself now
You: ...um?
Stranger: Because that is so gay.
You: the response?
Stranger: Yes, only the worst nerds think that is funny.
You: ...and so far about 50% of the people I've asked. :)
You: The other leading response is drugs. Go figure.
Stranger: 50% answer correctly?
You: Do you have a non-funny response?
Stranger: DO you want one?
You: Sure.
Stranger: Because I just about to strangle myself with my mothers utherus for answering that question correctly.
You: so...
Stranger: 42 is a non funny response.
You: It is losing its novelty...
Stranger: Indeed it is.. I wonder if it could be because of people like you?
You: ...the meaning of life is thinly veiled hostility?
Stranger: There is not a common meaning of life, we all have different meanings to our lives, that is my approach to that question.
You: I like that one.
Stranger: I just made it.
Stranger: I am a wise stranger.
You: So what's your meaning?
Stranger: I am aware of my meaning, but I rather not say it to tell you the truth.
You: Fair enough.
Stranger: Even though this is strictly anonymous, I don’t feel comfortable sharing it. And what do you believe is the meaning of life?
You: For the moment I'm leaning towards 'love' as a catch-all response.
Stranger: Ahh, love hehe, well I could see how that could be a popular answer.
You: Not as much as you might think.
Stranger: Oh?
Stranger: Well maybe not on omegle
You: Yes, this is a somewhat particular crowd.
Stranger: Then again, I doubt this is the best place to conduct such a test.
Stranger: Yes, you could say that.
Stranger: And why are you conducting such a test, if I may ask?
You: To see what would happen. :)
Stranger: Fair enough
Stranger: Are you really bored?
You: ...you'd think that would be an easy question.
You: ...not at the moment. :)
You: And why are you on Omegle?
Stranger: Taking a small break from some work I am doing, basically procrastinating.
You: Procrastination 4evah!
Stranger: Indeed...
Stranger: I am excellent at it, I might add.
You: that *was* a very tardy response.
Stranger: It probably was.
Stranger: All my chat's are different, I change personality in everyone.
Stranger: Just to make it more entertaining.
You: So how do I know you're who you say you are?
Stranger: I have not told you anything about myself, eitherway you could not know.
You: dun dun DUN.
Stranger: It was the butler.
(…and somehow I proceeded to have an hour long conversation with this fellow. We wound up threatening each other with trout. It was interesting!)
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 14: Britney Spears

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: i dont know :(
You: aws...
Stranger: do u know that ?
You: the meaning of life?
Stranger: yep
You: Maybe love?
Stranger: maybe ..
Stranger: do u like britney spears ?
You: ...
Stranger: ?
You: I don't have strong feelings
Stranger: how old are u ?
You: 23
Stranger: If u dont have strong feelings , you already have it
You: it?
Stranger: yep
You: ...I see.
Stranger: do u listen to britney ? haha
You: Not so much.
Stranger: love is a feeling that we feel and sometimes it make us suffer
You: That's a fair description.
You: But it's also an action.
Stranger: yep
Stranger: If the pain of love comes to u someday , cry a tear , and keep ur faith in the heart .. Cause its not everybody that suffers because love , some people suffer because they dont love with a fear to suffer..
You have disconnected.

Conversation 15:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: ME
You: Ah!
You: I see!
Stranger: i know
Stranger: puhuks suomee?
You: That's good to know.
Stranger: yep
Stranger: so where did u find that shirt?!
You: ...shirt?
Stranger: or pants
Stranger: i guess u r wearing clothes right?
You: One would assume.
Stranger: yes
Stranger: wouldnt u?
You have disconnected.

Conversation 16:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: love
You: Yay!
Stranger: OSASKOSAKOSAKOSAOOASK
You: ?
Stranger: it's laugh
You: okay...
You have disconnected.

Conversation 17: Ready Response

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: um\\
Stranger: this
Stranger: Just Think.
What If...
Every day was treated like a new beginning?

Where grudges, bitterness, unforgiveness, and worries died the moment your head hit the pillow. And at the time you had awaken to a new morning your mind would be renewed, not lacking knowledge or wisdom from the past, but building on what has been made from prior situations and circumstances.

Each person you'd come into contact with you'd treat like it had been the first time you'd met them and your first impression persona was at the top of it's game. Being kind, loving, unconditional in terms of your friendship in how things are done to show thanks. What if, we did things without having presumptuous intentions of wanting to be thanked for what we had done.

What if, we shared our gifts just out of love and never had the expectations of wanting to be loved in return, because we had the reassurance of knowing we're already loved regardless of what we do.

What if, our confidence was placed in something bigger then ourselves so that our dreams weren't limited to our own fears and insecurities.

What if, believing was reality?
You: ...how did you have that on hand?
Stranger: im GOD
Stranger: child
Stranger: be gone
Stranger: this place is not fit for humans
Stranger: Dont let me get the cross boy
You: ...wow, a stunning turn around!
Stranger: :D
Stranger: now now now
Stranger: And Like that i will vanish
Stranger: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 18:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: WEED
You: You think?
Stranger: YUP
You: How's that working out for you?
Stranger: AMAZINGLY
You: Cool.
You: Good luck with that.
You have disconnected.

Conversation 19:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: i don't want to answer quick
You: So answer slow.
Stranger: fine
Stranger: 42
You: Haha!
You: Don't you mean foooooorty twooooooo?
Stranger: no i don't
Stranger: and its not the meaning
Stranger: its the answer
You: to life.
You: the universe.
You: EVERYTHING!
Stranger: nope
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 20:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: hi
Stranger: i don't know
Stranger: bitch
You: No?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 21:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: BURGERS
You: Really?
Stranger: ya
You: That's a new one.
Stranger: i said the first word that popped into my head
You: No, I like it.
You: I think I could get a working life philosophy out of that.
Stranger: Hm, you might just be onto something there
You: Burgers are pretty darned delicious.
Stranger: ain't that the truth
You: yep.
You have disconnected.

Conversation 22:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: [web url]
Stranger: that
Stranger: as of right now
Stranger: DO IT
You: Something to do with blonde chicks and bananas?
Stranger: mmhmm
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 23: pleaseee

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: cyber sex?
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: pleaseee
Stranger: ?
Stranger: 42
You: yes!
Stranger: and penuss
You: hm...
You: maybe?
Stranger: i know im amazing
You: well, good luck with that!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 24: Meaning of Love

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: dead
You: ...oh yes?
Stranger: maybe
You: anything else?
Stranger: do some significative thing
Stranger: and u?
You: love
Stranger: oh,I don't think so
You: no?
Stranger: love is short-lived
You: You think always?
Stranger: y
You: what about types of love like 'I love my family'?
Stranger: if your meaning is love including love yourself and others, I agree with you.
You: :)
Stranger: where are you from?
You: Texas!
Stranger: cool
Stranger: where are they the same word , love with lovers and love with familys in the english?
You: I don't know.
You: Where are you from?
Stranger: In chinese, they are the different word
Stranger: from Beijing
You: That would probably help avoid confusion.
Stranger: you are right
You: I guess the only way we make a distinction is the difference between 'love' and 'in love'
You: But there's overlap.
Stranger: I agree
Stranger: all people need love.
You: Yes, exactly.
Stranger: why are you interested this?
You: I am seeking the meaning of life on the internet!
Stranger: cool
Stranger: On this issue，your understanding is relate of your age
You: You think?
Stranger: The greater the age the more you can clearly feel the love
Stranger: The more you desire to be loved
Stranger: How do you feel like Obama
You: I like him.
You have disconnected.

Conversation 25:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: study
You: oh?
Stranger: kindness
You: :)
Stranger: learn to be a good person
Stranger: what do u think
You: love!
Stranger: yeah...that's part of meaning of life
Stranger: but u still should learn to know the meaning of love
You have disconnected.

Conversation 26:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hey
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: You've stumped me.
You: Oh noes!
Stranger: Huhhh?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 27:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: AA
Stranger: umm
Stranger: to live?
You: You think?
Stranger: ya
You: Cool.
Stranger: ya
Stranger: ....
Stranger: soooo...
Stranger: .....
Stranger: ...
Stranger: .
Stranger: .
Stranger: .
Stranger: ........
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 28:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: Hi male/ female?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 29:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: hi, meaning of life! Do you know? does it have to have a meaning?
You: That's what I want to know!
Stranger: Why?
Stranger: can't you live your life, without knowing
You: Maybe.
Stranger: I do
You: You think it's better that way?
Stranger: If there is a meaning to life it would sure be better to know it. But, what if there no such a meaning. It would be chasing something that does not exist, like a mirage.
You: That's a well thought out response.
Stranger: thx
Stranger: Tell me about yourself. It is interesting that you start off with a total strange by asking about the meaning of life
You: I am seeking the meaning of life on the internet.
Stranger: LOLOLOL
You: :)
Stranger: I spend a lot of tme on the internet. Do you?
You: Yes, quite a lot!
Stranger: not just searching for that elusive meaning I hope
You: Nope.
You: Just thought it would be interesting.
You: Cheers!
You have disconnected.

Conversation 30: Gender roles

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: Do you consider yourself highly intelligent?
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
You: I'll answer yours if you answer mine.
Stranger: 3.14
You: Pi?
Stranger: Pi.
You: Pi is the meaning of life....
Stranger: Find the exact number of Pi
Stranger: and you find the meaning of life.
You: Ah.
You: That would take a long time.
Stranger: Get working.
You: Okay!
Stranger: BUT FIRST
Stranger: ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION
You: lol
You: I consider myself highly intelligent.
Stranger: FUCK.
You: This is disappointing?
Stranger: No.
Stranger: You're male, I assume....?
You: Nope!
You: Wait...
You: only males can be highly intelligent?
Stranger: Usually only males are cocky about it.
You: Heh heh. It's not cocky if you know you're right.
You: Are you conducting a survey, too?
Stranger: Of sorts.
You: What have you found?
Stranger: That women are ashamed of intelligence, in most cases.
You: Or trained to be modest?
Stranger: "LOL no i dont think so hehee =) r u a boy??"
You: *wince*
Stranger: That doesn't read as modesty.
You: Nope.
You: Society has issues.
You: I find writing resumes/CVs/applications to be very difficult.
Stranger: Particularly in the US, with gender roles like that.
Stranger: Where women are educated, but trained to act like idiots.
You: Probably true.
You: Are you male or female?
Stranger: What's your impression?
Stranger: What do you think I am?
You: Well, the fact that you are interested in the subject says 'female.' But my impression would be 'male.'
Stranger: Your impression is correct. I'm just observant, I suppose.
You: Have you read the book 'Self Made Man'?
Stranger: Never even heard of it.
You: It has an interesting look at gender roles...
You: ...a woman poses as a man in various situations and records her experiences.
Stranger: I'm only interested in them because I'm sick of stupid, stupid women.
You: Or stupid acting women?
Stranger: Both.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 31: all wamen are wrong

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: pay bills
You: Aw, you think?
Stranger: in america yes
Stranger: for you?
You: Love?
Stranger: woman.. huh?
You: ...and paying bills. :)
You: Yep.
Stranger: oh my
Stranger: all wamen are wrong
You: ...?
Stranger: forget about love men think on sex all the time
You: Not bills?
Stranger: for us bills for you shopping
Stranger: for us sex for you love
Stranger: different languages
You: That's your take?
Stranger: half of humanity
Stranger: women are too complicated say my sister
Stranger: are you?
You: Too complicated?
Stranger: what do you do for a living?
You: I'm a grad student.
Stranger: studing what?
You: Zoology
Stranger: are you cute??
You: ...yes?
Stranger: really?
Stranger: nice
Stranger: and you have a bf..
You: Nope.
Stranger: whay not?
Stranger: why
Stranger: too busy/>
You: Generally.
Stranger: ic
Stranger: i have to go.. i wish you the best..
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 32: It matters

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: sex
You: Oh yeah?
Stranger: yeah
You: Huh.
Stranger: male or female
You: Female.
Stranger: oh yeah?
Stranger: how old
You: 23.
Stranger: are you lying?
You: Does it matter?
Stranger: ha maybe
Stranger: does it matter to you
You: See, I know if I'm lying.
Stranger: are you hot
You: Does it matter?
Stranger: yeah
You: Good to know.
Stranger: soo....
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 33:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: im rubbing my boobs
Stranger: theyre D's
You: How's that working out for you?
Stranger: Let me [censored]
Stranger: and ill let you know
You: No thx.
You: Cheers!
Stranger: :(
You have disconnected.

Conversation 34: Déjà vu

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: What is the most important thing in your life?
Stranger: oh shit.
You: Whoah
Stranger: um.
You: You answer mine, I'll answer yours.
You: :)
Stranger: Love.
You: Woah.
You: Love.
You: ....
Stranger: ...
You: It's like we're sharing a mind.
Stranger: yeah
Stranger: uh
You: Spooky.
Stranger: in case you're me in the future or something
Stranger: man
Stranger: I don't know what just happened.
You: Wow.
Stranger: we should talk
You: You think?
Stranger: mhmm
You: Are you conducting a survey, too?
Stranger: yes
Stranger: and writing down the results
You: I'm saving the chatlogs.
Stranger: I have a journal
You: That works, too.
Stranger: hey, let's share results
You: Yeah!
Stranger: okay
Stranger: well
Stranger: 1. Love
Stranger: 2. How I help others
Stranger: 3. Myself
Stranger: 4. Girls
You: lol
Stranger: 5. Bitches money music
Stranger: 6. My mates
Stranger: 7. Family and Friends
Stranger: 8. Music
Stranger: 9. My head
Stranger: 10 is you
You: Cool!
Stranger: what about you?
You: Um... mostly 42... then 'no meaning'... then I don't know...
You: ...then drugs
You: love
Stranger: haha, I haven't gotten 42 once.
You: to live
You: lol
You: let's see...
You: boys
Stranger: probably because I'm phrasing it a different way
You: sex
You: Yeah, I set myself up for that one
Stranger: haha
You: oh, and one very confused '47'
You: also, burgers.
Stranger: that's another one of mine
Stranger: close behind love
Stranger: and the 47 is hilarious
You: :)
Stranger: so why do you think love is the most important thing?
You: I guess because it's a general statement about how you deal with other people and their importance in life.
You: You?
Stranger: I can't logically think of any other reason to live
Stranger: evolutionarily
Stranger: what else could we possibly been built for?
You: Sex?
You: j/k
Stranger: but really!
You: Yes
Stranger: viruses
Stranger: plants
Stranger: when it gets down to it, all any life does is reproduce
Stranger: or it isn't considered life
Stranger: what is love and sex but the manifestation of that principle in humankind?
You: True enough.
You: So you would lean primarily towards romantic love?
Stranger: not exactly a warm and fuzzy way to reach that answer
Stranger: yeah
Stranger: I'm not really a fuck and run kind of guy
Stranger: which goes against my whole evolutionary way of thinking about it
You: Well, as opposed to 'love thy neighbor'/ family/friends type love.
Stranger: but that's fine, I'm not really a cold hearted scientist anyway
Stranger: oh
Stranger: hmm
You: Though there's overlap.
Stranger: yeah
Stranger: I love my friends and family
Stranger: I want everybody to be happy and prosper in their own way
Stranger: why not?
Stranger: why bother wasting time with wars and conflict over property?
Stranger: or between countries or in the different systems we put up around ourselves?
You: Search me.
Stranger: Love surpasses all of that. You can be happy with love, no matter what situation you're in
Stranger: so I choose love.
Stranger: mhmm
You: It was nice talking with you!
Stranger: same
Stranger: have a good day
You: Good luck with your survey!
Stranger: you too
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 35:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: COCK!
You: you think?
Stranger: I know.
You: interesting.
You: How's that working out for you?
Stranger: Indeed.
Stranger: Well.
Stranger: It's pretty good. I think I'm becoming a cocknazi.
You: ?
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 36:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 42
You: Yes!
Stranger: B)
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 37: Are you PT?

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: pt
You: ?
Stranger: you?
Stranger: PT
You: ?
Stranger: what is your meaning of life
You: but I want to know what PT means...
Stranger: tell me ehat your meaning is and i will tell all
You: Love.
Stranger: nah, you can do better
You: Tell all.
Stranger: byw, PT includes love, but it is so much more
You: oh?
Stranger: you must first to better than love before all is revealed
Stranger: meant do, not to
You: I could try 42.
Stranger: i don;t un derstand 42
You: It's from a book.
Stranger: what book?
You: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Stranger: 'read it, i don't remember the refernece. the movie sucked
You: I liked the movie. *shrugs*
Stranger: PT is phantasy tour, a message board for the group phish and where i got the link
You: Huh. Cool.
You: I got the link on xkcd
Stranger: people on that board are posting some really funny conversations that happened on this site.
Stranger: so i came to take a look
You: Having fun?
Stranger: yes, it is different. however, i do not know the meaning of life
You: Aw...
Stranger: is xkcd cool? i just goolgled it
You: I like it. It's funny. XD
Stranger: i will check it out
Stranger: where are you
You: ?
You: Texas?
Stranger: near nyc here. i have a friend who lives near austin. says very hot in the summer
You: Yes indeedy.
Stranger: nice talking to you, hope you find the meaning
You: Cheers!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

As a side note: When we were kids we had this (hilarious) practical joke in which you asked someone ‘Are you PT?’ If they said ‘yes’ you shouted, “Ha! You’re a pregnant teenager!” If they said ‘no’ you exclaimed, “You’re not potty-trained?!” It was all very entertaining.

Conversation 38:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 43
You: ...yes?
Stranger: yup
You: I mostly get 42.
Stranger: heh
Stranger: what is this website?
You: ?
You: Omegle?
Stranger: how did you type so quickly?
Stranger: i'm skeptical
You: Ctrl+V
You: (Paste)
You: :)
Stranger: yah
Stranger: how long have you used this site?
You: Since yesterday.
Stranger: thoughts?
You: It is interesting to see how different people think.
Stranger: any creeps yet?
You: Depends on your definition of creep.
Stranger: shady people
You: If you're offended by random people shouting profanity and/or propositioning you... yes. :)
Stranger: haha
Stranger: really?
You: On occasion.
Stranger: doesn't bother me.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 39:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: HII
You: *jeopardy music*
Stranger: i dont know
You: No?
Stranger: the one you are?
Stranger: no !!
Stranger: you know ?
You: Not for sure.
Stranger: of where you are?
You: USA- Texas.
You: You?
Stranger: BRASIL São Paulo
You: Cool.
Stranger: M/F ?
You: F
Stranger: M !
You: Cool.
Stranger: How old are you?
You: 23
Stranger: I 20
Stranger: YOU SPEAK PORTUGUESE
Stranger: ???
You: No, sorry.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 40:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: hiya
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: sleep eat die
You: You think?
Stranger: no u jus put me on the spot
Stranger: lol
Stranger: wats ur answer
You: Maybe love?
Stranger: so without love there is no point of living?
You: Hmm...
You: I think there are no circumstances in which you are incapable of love.
Stranger: yea but wat if u jus never happen to come across love is ur life less meaninful than others
You: But that assumes only romantic love. There are many types of love.
Stranger: there are still some people in this worl who never experience love. they are few granted but still may exsit
You: Do you believe you have to experience love to be capable of loving others?
Stranger: maybe not
Stranger: it would be pretty sad to love some1 and never have know love itself. i feel sad for that person
You: That would be sad.
Stranger: there is more to life than love tho
You: Yes?
Stranger: other wise why do we do all the other things we do
You: like?
Stranger: we have to exsit in a material world
You: So you're saying 'staying alive' is part of the meaning of life? :)
Stranger: yea
You: Fair enough.
Stranger: otherwise y dont we jus not exsit at all
You: That's almost circular.
Stranger: yup indeed
Stranger: why the question anyway to a stranger on the internet
You: I am seeking the meaning of life on the internet!
Stranger: not sure if that will work on this website judging by sum of the people i have talked to
You: It has been interesting.
Stranger: to say the least
You: What are you doing on Omegle?
Stranger: a friend showed it to me earlier and i have been amusing myself with random chat as i cant sleep. there are sum very strange people in the world
Stranger: u?
You: I already said. :)
You: Meaning of life.
You: Thought it would be interesting.
Stranger: is it
You: Yeah.
You: I have interesting conversations.
You: More interesting that the a/s/l ones.
Stranger: haha
Stranger: and have u discovered a decent meaning of life yet
You: No, but I've gotten a variety of viewpoints.
You: Also, a lot of people read Douglas Adams.
Stranger: lol
You: Good luck sleeping!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 41:

Connecting to server...
Looking for someone you can chat with. Hang on.
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 42
You: Yes!
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Conversation 42:

Connecting to server...
You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: Quick! What's the meaning of life?!
Stranger: 42
Stranger: right?
You: Hehe!
You: Yes!
Stranger: yay
You: Anything else?
Stranger: no, where's my prize?
You: Hm...
You: in the mail.
Stranger: liar it's night over here
You: It could still be in the mail!
You: Just... at night.
Stranger: that's impossible
You: Where does mail go at night?
Stranger: i didn't hear the mail man
You: lol
Stranger: it doesn't
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

When life gives you lemons...

2008-12-03T15:45:00.000-08:00

Today's Close to Home with the lemonade stand bailout reminded me that I had seen this EXACT SAME JOKE in another comic over Thanksgiving break.

A little searching turned up the aforesaid comic......as well as turned up these two comics:
Ha! Ha!
Still funny!

Not to mention these 3 parody news stories and 2 humorously themed political blogs:
Boy gets 1 million dollar bail out for lemonade stand
Feds Approve $22 Bailout of Lemonade Stand
Congress Votes to Bail Out Little Sally’s Lemonade Stand
The government can't afford to bailout a lemonade stand!
Should We Bail Out Calvin's Lemonade Stand??

I am so not here to chime in with my own political commentary. No, I am here to officially declare this joke DEAD.
We get it. They're bailing out a lemonade stand. Har har.
MOVE ON.
Thank you,
Nix

PS: Should you now be overcome with the desire to test your ability to profitably run a lemonade stand I present to you Lemonade Stand: The Game
Be warned: this is one of those games that is inexplicably absorbing, and when you finish playing, you suddenly wonder why you were entertaining yourself by pretending to do work. (...but it's not as bad as the Waiter Game.)

loldog

2008-09-05T18:46:00.000-07:00

Gratuitously ripping off lolcats with pictures of Tesoro.
And I'm not sorry. Not at all.

~*~

More Screensavers

2008-08-19T14:46:00.000-07:00

A few more free screensavers / backgrounds for use with the amazon Kindle! Because I can't seem to stop making the darn things.

As in my previous post the artwork is from various sources and is offered here in screensaver format in the spirit of promoting some excellent websites, artists, etc. Again, please *click* on the image to load the fullsize version, then right click *save as*. See aforementioned previous posts for additional details and resources for Kindle screensavers.

*edit* oops... uploaded the wrong image size. I'll fix these later. kthxbai!

*re-edit* Fixed it!!

Ouran High Host Club:

from a wallpaper made by Arehandora

Ctrl + Alt + Del

Crowfeathers

Pandect

Alex Haworth

(prints available at Art.com)

Artist Unknown

(Prints available at Art.com)

Joe and Monkey

Red vs. Blue:

Comments? Suggestions? Requests?

Are you sure you checked out all the screensavers?

Confidence

2008-08-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

“Remember,” my mom tells me, “Thanksgiving isn’t that far away, and you’ll be coming home then.”

“Yes, I know, Mom. Thanks.” I’m actually feeling relatively confident at the moment. Although my move cross country has been laden with ‘I’m-never-going-to-make-it’ and ‘why-the-heck-did-I-think-this-was-a-good-idea-anyway?’ moments, actually surviving the seventeen hour U-haul drive and subsequent unpacking has filled me with the hope that anything is possible. That, or the cold medication is making my brain all shiny. Still, I’m a family-oriented person, and even if grad school only lasts two years, I know this will be a challenge at the start.

“You’re going to do just fine. But I want you to promise me if you start getting so lonely you feel suicidal you’ll find a coffee shop or something and go there.”

This makes me laugh. “You mean so I can sit by myself and watch all the other people being happy and not alone?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “I just mean you shouldn’t sit inside brooding. It’s good just to be around other people. You could also go to the library. I’m sure there must be one on campus.”

I exchange a grin with Tom. “Again, a veritable hotspot of activity and non-depression.”

“I’m just saying— ”

“I know, I know; I get you. If I can’t stand the apartment I’ll probably go to Barnes and Noble and steal their books. And if I’m really desperate to socialize I’m sure I can call up Mark or some of the grad students.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” my mom says, sounding relieved.

“Better than sitting by myself in a coffee shop. Though I guess coffee shops and libraries do have a shortage of available methods for committing suicide.”

“Oh, ha, ha. I’m not going to miss you, you know. I’m just going to miss the puppy.”

I smile at the little chocolate lab curled at my feet. “Tough luck. She’s all mine. You can go hang out at Starbucks.”

Argument

2008-07-29T19:26:00.000-07:00

I'm dozing on the couch when upraised voices from the computer room rouse me.

"I was already dismembering him, Jake!"

What the heck? I think abstractedly.

"He was getting away!"

"No he wasn't!"

"You weren't doing it right! Look how high the damage was on the body."

"It doesn't matter!" Tom's voice snarls. "I was already dismemembering him!"

"Yes, but--" The quarrel fades back to indecipherable volume.

I spend a few moments pondering the borderline insanity that videogames add to daily conversation. I can recall numerous conversations in which I raptly discussed weapons preferences, kill methods, the comparative merits of good versus evil, farming techniques, space flight, city management, and, on one conspicuous occasion, how I kept my various wives happy.
Discussing a character in a Pokémon game, my brother once asked me, "Don't you hate when Mom uses your money to buy you random stuff?"
"When do I do that?" my mother burst out, flabbergasted.

If asked yesterday what sort of odds would I have laid on the likelihood of my overhearing a heated argument over dismemberment?

I consider the surplus of teenage boys that routinely descend upon the household like locusts. Uncomfortably high.

I decide to go back to sleep.

Kindle Screensavers

2008-07-26T11:30:00.001-07:00

Psst! My screensavers are now on PHOTOBUCKET.
Or, go here to see my other Kindle screensaver posts on Blogger.
--------
Ta-dah! A collection of Kindle Screensavers (sleep screens, backgrounds, wallpapers, whatever) just for you! And everybody else on the web! But mostly me! I'll stop using exclamation points now!

I love my Kindle. If you read anywhere near as much as me hie thee over to Amazon and pick yourself up an Amazon Kindle eBook reader. They're still pricey, but well worth it.
Of course, the first thing I have to do is start making some personalized screensavers (or perhaps 'backgrounds' would be a better word?) to replace the default ones. Since premade Kindle bgs are pretty scarce on the web I thought I might venture to post mine here for anyone who's interested.

*Ahem*

DISCLAIMER: Most of this work is not mine. These screensavers are made in the spirit of promoting some of my favorite artists, webcomics, books, tv shows, movies, etc. , and I do not in any way lay claim to them. I have credited the work of various artists wherever possible, and would be happy to add credit or remove an image upon request by the artist. End small print.

*unAhem*

Please *click* on the image to view a full size file before saving.

P.S: There is a nice outline of how to add screensavers to your Kindle on this webpage, and at Kindlerama. I use Adobe Photoshop to format images: 800x600 dimensions, grayscale, 167dpi, .jpg format.

~-~-~

Ursula Vernon is possibly my favorite artist of all time. Some day I will decorate my entire house with her stuff. This may earn me odd looks from visitors.

The Goldfish are Restless was the first Ursula Vernon picture I ever ventured across. :)

Check out PartiallyClips!

Shades of Grey:

Ctrl+Alt+Del

The creator of Pearls Before Swine said that this was his favorite crocodile line:

A Softer World:

The Perry Bible Fellowship:

Sluggy Freelance:

I'm not sure where all the funny cat pictures came from but they sure are cute. Maybe LolCats?

SinFest:

Avalon:

If you haven't read Girl Genius you haven't lived.

Joe and Monkey:

Men in Hats:

Biff!

I believe I've mentioned Superdickery before.

And obviously the covers are from their respective makers. Duh.

A clip from The Onion:

Yu Yu Hakusho:

No Rest for the Wicked:

Um... this was a fan wallpaper made Sera.

Exploding Dog:

I love Zap!

Portal is the best game ever.

And... this was on DeviantArt.... somewhere. If you made this, I love you.
No, seriously. I will bear your children.

LiNT:

Longmire has a wonderful collection of parodied romance novel covers:

Found this somewherez on the internet.

Generator here.

And of course, a tribute to the ultimate eBook, ever.

A snake!

XKCD must not be missed.

Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal:

The Order of the Stick:

Why don't I have more bgs from this comic?

Goblins:

The Boondock Saints:

Wait! Are you sure you've checked out all my screensavers? There's more!

If you want to re-post any of these please include credit and a link back here. Comments make me happy!

If you've made kindle screensavers of your own to share I'd love to see (and link) them. ^_^

Here are some other sites with screens available:

Kindlerama: Assorted

Jackson Unit: Assorted

B. Tackitt: Assorted (many!)

Whatzits Galore: Disney Princess Noveau

Redeeming Qualities: Piranesis-Carceri

Kevin Guyer: Modern Authors

Nintendo Screensavers (in forum) (Zip File)
Original (Amazon) Kindle Screensavers (in forum) (Zip File)

Numbers Games

2008-04-15T22:16:00.000-07:00

“Look, a 5 on analytical writing turns out 73% percent below,” I complain to my brother, reading numbers off an old GRE score report. “I hate standardized writing. They always score me horribly. But I guess if the score doesn’t go above 6 people can’t get too high a percent. Standardized writing tests are such a joke.”

“No kidding,” Tom agrees. “On my SAT writing section I only did so-so, and I knew a lot of really smart people who scored horribly. I hate to say it, but the kids who score the best are the ones who learn enough to write by formula, but not go past that.”

“I know, seriously. We didn’t have a writing section for the SAT, but for the SATII I scored, like, 5 out of 10. Awful. I aced the verbal, anyway. 98% below.” I cast a critical eye back over my scores. “Bleh, math’s just not my thing. 74% below... At least I’m average.”

“Um, actually…”

“Is that below average? I mean, I guess technically if it’s 75…”

Tom gives me an exasperated look. “Come on, Nix. Think about it.”

I ponder.

“Percent below, Nix.”

“Well, yeah, 74% of people scored below me… oh, wait! 50% would be average.”

“I was going to be really concerned if you didn’t get that.”

“So I guess I did okay,” I say, smiling.

“I’d say you did better than that. 74% is actually pretty good.”

“Is it ironic that I screwed up my own quantitative score?”

“I think it’s ironic that you didn’t know how good you were at math because you did the numbers wrong.”

“I told you math wasn’t my thing.”

The funny thing about weddings

2008-03-31T22:38:00.000-07:00

Lily has been obssessively looking at wedding dresses online (don't tell Cody) ever since she saw 'her' dress in the movie Ella Enchanted. My role in this business is to sporadically peer over her shoulder and provide color commentary (read: sarcasm). Happily, I have discovered that the wedding gown industry provides a fount of unintentionally amusing pictures. A few of my favorites follow.

Allow me to preface the following by saying that it is not my intent to slander any of these lovely dresses-slash-models-slash-sets. It's the combinations of the three that keeps me giggling.

Oh, drat. Walked through poo.

Eden Bridals

Hmmm… Let’s see. I’m sure there was something I was supposed to be doing.

Eden Bridals

Marie Ann was having that dream again. She was on stage, she’d forgotten her lines, and she was wearing a paper drinking cone.

Eden Bridals

To heck with getting married. Random stranger, take me now.

Eden Bridals

Here’s your kid. Let’s get married.

Eden Bridals

Special edition ‘Bring It’ Bride Barbie^TM

Eden Bridals

Rolling out the red carpet.

Alfred Angelo

Next time steal stand with mannequin.

Alfred Angelo

Bride in forcefield.

Alfred Angelo

Joann had always wanted to get married in an elevator.

Da Vinci Bridal

A dress deserving of a padded room.

Da Vinci Bridal

Proud owner of the world’s only curtain sheers/bed shammy wedding gown.

Da Vinci Bridal

Caterpillar bride.

Da Vinci Bridal

Pancake bride.

Da Vinci Bridal

Bride/Skateboard ramp.

Da Vinci Bridal

You’re right. The bow does make our butt look big.

Da Vinci Bridal

Priorities

2008-03-23T22:17:00.000-07:00

“Where are your keys?” Tom asks me, flipping through my baskets of junk-to-take-home by the back door.

Without looking up I indicate a heap of my clothes. “Clipped to my pants.”

Tom’s already spotted them, and he snags them from the belt loop. Heading toward the garage he throws back the inevitable snarky comment: “I could take your pants, but I’ll be nice and just take the keys.”

“Where are your keys?” I ask. Since we just spent the greater part of the evening searching the house for them it’s a fair question, if a loaded one.

“Upstairs—in my pants. I just wanted to get my book out of the car.”

I shrug, turning back to my own reading. “Well, as long as we both know where our keys are.”

Tom grins. “No, no. The important thing is that we both know where our pants are.”

Aesthetic Appeal

2008-03-04T21:37:00.000-08:00

So the last time I was home on break I discovered that Dad-wife version 3.0 decoratively folds her Kleenex. I’m talking she takes the first tissue out of the box, thus rendering the patented Kleenex pop-up mechanism defunct, folds the tissue into a tiny fan, and tucks it artistically back into the box. Tom’s comment on the situation: “Yeah, it’s weird because I’m not sure if I’m allowed to use that tissue or not.” People, if your decorating techniques are creating ethical dilemmas over the issue of how to blow your nose this is not normal.

In other news my mother really enjoyed our repeated efforts to correct her tired old tissue presentation style. Much Kleenex origami ensued.

Images from http://officeproducts.fedexkinkos.com/ and http://www.whiteaisle.com/. And me. Both of the sites have said products available for sale. Buy and combine and your home too can be classy!

Top Ten Superman Moments

2008-02-05T22:07:00.000-08:00

If you’ve never heard of Wayback, you're missing out on one of the greatest innovations of the internet, ranking right up there on my personal favorites list with Google, Wikipedia, Amazon and YouTube. Oh, and Pandora, but that’s also relatively unknown, and thus a topic for another day. But I’m not here to talk about Wayback, that internet archive founded as a nonprofit organization in 1996 and located in the Presidio of San Francisco. Go there to access broken links and deleted pages.

*Ahem.* No, what I want to talk about is some video from their free online movie archives.

Yes, Superman as it existed in 1941 pre-movie shorts. I had originally planned to do a summary of this particular episode, but I think instead I’ll just dwell on some of the memorable, must-see moments. Here’s a top ten for you, in chronological order.

# 1:
Krypton Goes Boom

“There came a day when giant quakes threatened to destroy Krypton forever. One of the planets leading scientists, sensing the approach of doom, placed his infant son in a small rocket ship and sent it hurtling in the direction of earth just as Krypton exploded!”

You know, completely leaving aside the planet-exploding earthquakes that managed to take this ‘race of supermen’ so entirely off guard, the last time I checked Superman could fly in space. Fly away, people! Fly away!

#2:
The Evil Plot:

“Beware—you fools! My electrothanasia-Ray strikes tonight at 12. Total destruction will come to those who laughed at me and failed to heed my warnings. Beware—I strike at midnight!”

I just love how the mad scientist feels it necessary to recap the first three sentences. Key concepts: Beware. Midnight. Bwahaha.

‘Electrothanasia’ would be a cool name for a band.

#3:
Lois Flies the Plane:

Lois will go to any lengths to get a scoop, even if it means stealing planes and flying without a pilot's license. Now there's a liberated woman.

#4:
The Mad Scientist Bebop:

A still image really can’t do his unique stair-descending method justice. I think I watched him go down those stairs about fifteen times. Skitter, skitter, skitter.

#5:
Damsel in Distress in Three Steps or Less:

“I’m a reporter for the—“ **KIDNAPPED**

1. Fly to isolated island
2. Introduce self to mad scientist
3. Get kidnapped.

Honestly, Lois, you can pilot a small fighter plane but you can’t come up with a better plan for confronting the mad scientist than to knock on the door?

#6:
This Looks Like A Job For Superman:

“On the stroke of midnight the deadly impact of his mysterious ray smashed the famous tower bridge, hurling cars and pedestrians into the river below.”

I guess Superman missed the line in the memo where it said 'I strike at midnight.' He was thinking noon. Oops.

#7:
No Telephone Booths For Superman:
(or Superman’s Striptease)

Another scene that still images can’t do justice to. Gotta love his little peek to see if the coast is clear. X-ray vision aside, the door has a window.

Watching the man of steel tiptoe across a room is entertaining too.

#8:
Elasti-building:

You know, structurally, if your building is flopping from side to side you should probably just take it down.

#9:
Superman VS Electrothanasia Ray:

Superman can punch lasers. Because he is just that super.
#10:
And Stay in There!:

The question was posed on Superdickery: does Superman actually have any authority to arrest people? I can’t say for sure, but clearly he is allowed to incarcerate people by literally throwing them into a jail cell. Unless he keeps his own private prison in the basement.

"That's for all those people I forgot to save!"

Your Attention, Please

2008-02-04T11:58:00.000-08:00

Rather than pay attention to the professor my brain is following random tangents. For instance there are a lot of ways to respond to a question asked by the professor, and they all indicate something different. For example:

Entire arm extended and impression of rigor mortis (flagpole position): I would like to answer the question.

Mad waving accompanied by excited vocalizations: I am a second grader who has infiltrated this university level course because I would really like to answer the question.

Hand shot into the air with a force sufficient to launch arm into orbit: I know the answer and I would like everyone to be aware of that

Hand up, elbow propped on desk (half-mast position): I am waiting to be called on, and it is a long wait.

Arm draped across top of head, hand stubbornly raised: You can pretend you don’t see me as long as you want but I will outwait you.

Arm flat on desk, hand or fingers raised: I know the answer but I have no vested interest in providing it.

Arm close to body, hand by face: I timidly proffer an answer or I am telling secrets.

Arm up, one finger raised: I would like to insert a comment or I inform you that you are ‘number one.’

Elbow propped on desk, hand loose and in front of face (stealth postion): I am attempting not to attract attention by blending with the herd. If I remain motionless you can’t see me.

Hands folded under chin: I am attempting to look thoughtful because I do not know the answer and I am praying that you will pick someone else.

Hand up at diagonal angle, wrist rotated: Sorry, I was just stretching.

Hand open, fingers flexed: I am confident.

Hand open, fingers curled: I am unconfident.

Hand closed, fingers curled: I am preparing to punch you.

Eye contact, no hand: I am prepared to answer the question.

Eyes on notes and/or desktop: I am pretending to study because I am not prepared to answer the question.

Eyes closed: I am not prepared to answer the question because I am asleep.

Abrupt departure from room: I would not like to answer the question.

Adware, Round 2

2008-02-04T07:40:00.000-08:00

I can't seem to shake this dratted adware virus. Drastic measures must be taken. However, seeing as I have a spanish ensayo due in about an hour now is probably not the time. ...Fear the six-legged spiders!

The Protection Racket

2008-02-03T17:10:00.000-08:00

My computer is infected with malware again. This as distinguished from all the other ‘wares’ such as hardware, software, goodware, and eveningware. These infections happen from time to time, and generally necessitate me devoting a substantial chunk of my life to running various cleaner programs and scans, tracking down patches, and generally spending hours deleting file after file of self-replicating computer-slowing adware, worms and trojans while hunting their evil hive mother.

A while back I got concerned that I hadn’t renewed my subscription with McAfee, and finally unpocketed the money to keep my computer safe again. It came as no surprise that an initial scan found more than 50 infected files. The surprise came later, when after repeated scans and cleanings my computer was inching along like molasses, slower than ever. A painstakingly tedious crawl through a Google search fingered the most likely culprit. McAfee Antivuirus was hogging all the system resources. Yes, I paid $50 for a program which apparently planned to keep my computer safe by not allowing it to do anything.

Now I use Avast Antivirus, which I like not just because it’s free and it allows my computer to function at a reasonable speed, but also because it has a little voice that keeps me informed of my computer’s status. Virus detection is accompanied by a siren and calm but urgent computer voice: ‘Caution--a virus has been detected. Caution--a virus has been detected.” It’s just like being a starship captain!

Avast is great about alerting me to problems and taking out the head-on attacks, but the more subtle Trojan style malware downloaders occasionally take additional legwork on my part. In my current situation, Avast has taken out a baker’s dozen of adware programs, but the source lives on, as evidenced by the pop-up windows that spawn everytime I load a new page. The variety of advertisements that have infiltrated my computer is as fascinating as it is bewildering. I can understand why sleazy sounding sites promoting things like online poker, discount tropical vacations and 'the playphone' would consider drastic measures to get my attention, but what about ‘The World’s Most Popular Intelligence Test’ by Tickle? Is this really the sort of thing that necessitates aggressive, no holds barred marketing?

The big names that pop-up also disturb me. ‘Yahoo! HotJobs.’ ‘AccountNow Prepaid Visa.’ Do these companies not know they are being advertised by people who are downloading trojans onto my computer? Is this some sort of free service provided by the adware people? How is this even legal?

My favorites, of course, are the variety of ‘Malware Protection’ sites that flash their advertisements onto my screen (through the employ of malware) accompanied by ingenuous little queries like ‘Is your computer running slower than usual?’ They warn about potential malware being downloaded to your computer, privacy violations, or (I love the wording): ‘dangerous adult content.’ It’s so sweet of them to offer protection from the many reprehensible types on the internet such as themselves. Very old-school mafia.

These malware protection racketeers also number among the sneakiest of the ads, making liberal use of fake system notifications, windows alert style pop-ups, and supposed system scans which return a list of infected files on my system with scary sounding names like TrojanWorm.SoBig and EvilAdware(Downloader).bug. I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I think my current virus protection software is more than capable of detecting malware which openly announces its nefarious intentions right in its file name.

Of course, any attempts to halt the automatic download of their program prompts a barrage of warning windows: ‘Download is not complete!’ ‘Your system is still infected!’ ‘Click any button below to continue download!’ They’ve even managed to inveigle themselves into the places of the ad banners of the sites I’m visiting. Now five seconds after page load the same banner flashes warnings at me from at least three different locations on the page. My favorite has spiders all over it. Because adware, like spiders, is very scary.

But nothing can rival the baffling error box prompted by my refusal to seek my secret local crush:

Yes. Click ‘Cancel’ to accept. It’s all so clear.

I’m scheduling boot-time scan.

I have Mad Skillz

2008-01-31T19:12:00.000-08:00

Nix’s List of Obscure Talents
(a work in progress)
------
Sew (hand)
Sew (machine)
Sketch
Ride a horse
Computer art (photoshop)
Website design (HTML)
Care for dogs, cats, fish, hamsters, parakeets, snakes, etc.
Mod a My Little Pony
Set a turtle trap
Catch a venomous snake
Knit
Crochet
Latch hook
Manage small children in large groups
Distinguish crocodiles and alligators
Speak Spanish
Write (prose, supposedly)
Google with skill
Paint (oil)
Paint (watercolor)
Sex a fruitfly
Read obsessively!
Use a flow cytometer to estimate a genome size
Use statistical software
Program a VCR
‘Knit’ chainmail
Make jewelry
Identify a wide variety of rocks
‘Hex’ code on Petz (fairly obsolete skill!)
Play the viola
Play handbells
Play the piano (badly)
Run a classroom
Bake
Cross stich
Play field hockey

Dream logic (drēm lŏj-ĭk)

2008-01-28T20:05:00.000-08:00

Dream logic (drēm lŏj-ĭk):

noun:

A mental state characterized by irrationality and lack of lucidity occurring within the context of a dream: I dreamed I was working on my spanish quiz, and dream logic made me think my professor asked questions about how to use the flow cytometer in my genetics lab.
Illogical or delirious thought processes generally triggered by sleep deprivation, grogginess, and/or sudden or incomplete awakening: I did not have time to work on my spanish quiz this morning because my dream logic told me my snooze button could be used to stop time.
A state of mind between waking and sleeping: The gentle hum of the $250,000 flow cytometer combined with the weariness of a long and hectic day lulled me into a trance, and dream logic helped me believe I was home and only dreaming of being in the lab.

see also: sleep madness (Questionable Content, sidebar)

The Information -Super- Highway

2008-01-24T23:03:00.000-08:00

I love the internet.

Shocking, I know. But all that information at the tips of my fingers just tickles the world-conquering megalomaniac in me. I am a Google Master. I can find anything. Seriously, they should offer some sort of ninja degree or something.

When I was about nine or ten, I remember my mom talking my dad into buying a set of used encyclopedias for the house. Sure, they take up a lot of space and they can be rather pricey, but you can look things up in them. It doesn’t even matter if you actually find these things, it’s the looking up that matters. Because, as my mom explains, then you see something else interesting, and then something else, and before long you’ve killed hours browsing the encyclopedia. That’s right, I’m descended from a woman who believes in reading the encyclopedia for leisure.

Now take those encyclopedias and increase the information in them exponentially. That’s right. I’m doomed. The urge to cruise the information superhighway is like a drug in my blood. Excessively melodramatic prose optional.

Why bring this up? Only to offer some justification as to why I have just spent the past four hours browsing old comic book covers on this site with no end in view.

“Batman you have been found guilty of witchcraft. I sentence you to be BURNED AT THE STAKE.” –Superman

I love the internet.

To Sleep or Not to Sleep

2008-01-23T16:29:00.000-08:00

Somewhere along the way I set my internal clock a good four, maybe five hours back. While this is all well and good in regards to my quest to become officially classified as a nocturnal creature, in the meantime it means I’m awful cranky during class.

In order to address this problem, without actually doing anything to alter my lifestyle, I hit the information superhighway. Almost immediately I find out that nocturnal animals "generally have highly developed senses of hearing and smell." Something to look forward to. How To Sleep Well starts out with the advice "sleep only when sleepy." Check. I wasn't actually aware that was a significant problem plaguing humanity. My problem is staying awake when sleepy. Moving on down the list, "develop sleep rituals" sounds intriguing. Maybe I could incorporate ceremonial masks?

According to The World Clock I’m on Honolulu time. That or Kiritimati. My initial impulse is to vote for Honolulu over obscure-never-heard-of-it-ville but closer inspection reveals that Kiritimati is in the Christmas Islands, which sounds nice and festive. Plus it’s cloudy in Honolulu right now, and I am sick of anything to do with rain. It’s cold and icky, I have tons of stuff to do, and I never get to sleep before 3AM because my brain has apparently taken a metaphysical trip to the tropics for vacation. Hmm.... clever.

If anyone asks, I’m in Kiritimati.

The Time is Now:

Word Play

2008-01-21T21:22:00.000-08:00

“The plaque was cloaked because it wasn’t even there.”

There is a moment of confounded silence as Mom, Jacob and I struggle to parse this unusual pronouncement.

“What was your verb?” Mom asks.

“Cloak.” Matthew, my youngest brother, sounds pleased with himself. “Like invisible,” he adds helpfully. We stare silently for a few moments longer.

“It was invisible because…it wasn’t there,” I say, sounding out the idea. For some reason this sends everyone into laughter. “That’s very Zen.”

I’m in town picking up a few forgotten items, and tonight on the car ride home from the hamburger place I mentioned the writing exercise I’d been working on. My mom, always ready for an unusual group activity latched onto the idea of making a family game of it. The idea might have slipped quietly into dormancy, but my littlest brother has been a MadLib fiend since he got two new books for Christmas. There is no escape. Nouns and verbs will be supplied. Adverbs may also be demanded.

We get down to business with only a modicum of tussling over the rules of the game. Jake, who considers himself very funny, is eager to supply words but not particularly interested in forming sentences with them.

“No, everybody’s writing them,” Mom says.

“Well, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, if you don’t write them you’re not playing.”

“I’m joking, Mom.”

“Jacob!” she says in exasperation.

“Joking about writing them.”

“Jacob!”

The four of us each write five nouns and one occupation. Next, everyone writes two verbs for each job, a task which generates some brain stretching. ‘Mad Scientist’ turns out to be remarkably tricky, while ‘Hair Dresser’ leaves the boys stumped. Eventually, however, all the cards are completed, and we’ve all drawn five nouns and eight verbs to try to match up. More brain stretching ensues.

“What the heck is a ‘sproutling’?” I grumble.

“Oh, it’s like a baby plant,” Jake explains.

“That’s a sprout.”

“Or a seedling,” Mom offers.

“No, it’s sproutling,” Jake insists.

“That is not a word,” I say firmly.

“Yes it is!”

“Isn’t.”

“I know it’s a word because it’s on one of my Magic cards.” I give him a look, but don’t dignify that with a response. Mom rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll go look it up.”

“Knock yourself out.” I’m actually formulating a sentence with the word ‘sproutling,’ so I’m not all that concerned about its validity anymore.

A little later we’re all waiting on Jacob to finish. Tracking down a dictionary and proving himself wrong ate up his time.

“Are you almost done?”

“Just a second. I’m trying to make the demons dance, but it’s not working.”

“Man, I can think of several sentences with ‘dance’ and ‘demon’,” Mom says.

“Yeah, me too,” I chip in.

“Agh, nevermind. I’m just going to shave the demons.”

“'The demon shaved'?” I say quizzically.

“The demons danced on the cheesecake tempting her,'” Mom offers.

“Ooh, that’s a good one. Or ‘demons danced in his eyes,’” I suggest.

“Fine, whatever, I’m done,” Jake says, throwing his pencil down. “Let’s read them.”

Matthew is eager to go first. He leads off with “Never tease an elephant, or you will get trampled.” His words were ‘elephant’ and ‘trample.’ He apparently misunderstood the thrust of the game, but the results are fascinating. A few of his other gems:

--If you are going to wear an evening dress you should shave or it will look like you threw it on at the last minute.
--Never compose a song on paper or an old lady will throw it down the arroyo.
--I definitely don’t want the style that makes my hair look like a flame.
--Don’t cut that wire or there will be a cataclysm.

Mom and I are more reserved, but we each have our favorite offerings. Mom enjoys her sentence ‘The giant explosion washed over the village like a tidal wave,’ as well as ‘The song plundered the girl’s raw emotions.’ I’m less than impressed with my own ‘The sproutling dueled its way free of the soil,’ but very fond of ‘The telescope snipped out a piece of the night.’ My strangest verb turned into one of my better sentences:

--He wanted to be a football star, but luck bullrushed him onto a different path.

Jacob surprises us all with a remarkably well put together set of sentences, commencing with “The demons shaved away his conscience, slowly blackening his soul.” Looking back I don’t know why I was surprised—the boy lives and breathes sarcasm and banter. Clever wordplay is his forte. Another example:

--The baby was rebounded between nonconsensual parents like a fragile Christmas Lladro that requires infinite amounts of maintenance.

The two most disturbing are my personal favorites:

--The innuendo synthesized an erotic rhythm in the previously nonchalant conversation.
--His hairy epidermis ravaged her tender uncalloused skin.

The game extends itself into one more round, this time with much more excited chattering and diabolical giggles over the word selection. Sentence construction proves to be as interesting as the giggles implied.

“Hey who put ‘castrate’ for spy?” I demand indignantly. “Jacob.”

“It was supposed to be for cowboy,” Mom explains.

“Oh! I was wondering what kind of spy you were thinking of. I knew it wasn’t for neurosurgeon.”

“What does ‘loin’ mean?” Matthew asks.

“It’s the area between your legs,” Mom explains, as Jake laughs, smirking in a self-satisfied manner.

“Okay,” Matt says. “What does ‘probe’ mean?”

Mom chokes and covers her mouth as Jakes’s laughter sputters and turns into a coughing fit. I hold back a giggle fit, and manage to explain, “It means to poke. You probably shouldn’t use those two together.”

This time around, Matthew has the gist of the game, and if his Zen lines about invisible plaque mystify, other sentences impress:

--The cheer assassinated an unexpecting old man’s ears because it was so loud.
--The socks ride on the feet, being guided every step of the way.

The rest of us have plenty to offer as well:

Jacob:
--The glorious spectacle hog-tied the attention of the soon-to-be victim.
--The beer had seen his crimes, and gagged him with his broken promises.
Mom:
--The grazing deer lobotomized the farmer’s vegetable garden.
--The erupting volcano cantered down the mountainside, snorting smoke and glaring with fiery eyes.
Me:
--The socks slipped and slid on the wood floor, scheming his downfall.
--The disaster castrated the man.

I’m tempted to embellish on that last, but it’s so much more fun when open to interpretation. However, the true show-stopper is Matt’s innocently intended combination of two previously mentioned words:

--The loin probes the air because someone needs to go to the bathroom.

Utter pandemonium. I nearly suffocate.

Writing Day 1

2008-01-20T20:20:00.000-08:00

Sundays are officially writing exercise days as of about ten minutes ago. Now you know.

Today I'm trying one from the book Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, which I highly recommend. For this excercise I have listed 10 random nouns:

1. earrings
2. angel
3. footstool
4. garbage
5. chandelier
6. soldiers
7. lawn
8. maple tree
9. galaxy
10. nostril

Next a random occupation:

Hunter

And finally 15 random verbs relating to that occupation:

1. stalk
2. track
3. target
4. trap
5. shoot
6. camouflage
7. sneak
8. dispatch
9. slaughter
10. trigger
11. butcher
12. tan
13. skin
14. carve
15. hunt

Now the object is to combine nouns and verbs in interesting ways to form unique sentences. Here's my shot at it (no pun intended):

· Her sparkling earrings trapped his eyes in a mesmerizing festival of light.
· The avenging angel carved a path through the sky.
· The footstool snuck under the tired man’s feet.
· The pungent garbage quickly dispatched their sense of smell, dragged it behind the dumpster, skinned it, and butchered it.
· The gaudy, extravagant chandelier camouflaged the peeling paint and spotted wallpaper.
· The weary soldiers stalked their beds down the trail back to the base camp.
· The sharp-bladed lawn skinned their soles as they ran barefoot through the yard.
· The slim maple tree shot from earth like a spear.
· The bright, wheeling galaxy slaughtered the nothingness around it.
· One nostril seemed to track her wherever she moved. It was really creepy.

The Office

2008-01-19T22:15:00.000-08:00

“Oh, pause it, pause it!” My mom waves at the TV through her laughter. We’ve been working our way through the first three seasons of The Office, a task which involves frequent interruptions for excited chatter and commentary. Currently we’re groaning our way through Michael’s heavy-handed attempts to flirt with the Barbie-model salesgirl visiting the office. She’s having remarkable success selling purses to an office full of men, a fact which she attributes to their complete ignorance of the subject.

“You know, that is so typical," Mom says. "When I worked for the oil company there were so many men there other companies would always hire these...” she gropes for an appropriate description.

“Pretty salesgirls?”

“Yes, these women who would come in to sell things, and they would take the men out to lunch… it was sort of insulting.”

“Lily says they do that with the pharmaceutical reps at doctor’s offices.”

“That was one of the weird things about being a woman working in a primarily male field. It’s like you get to see these things you’re not supposed to. Like, for example, we used to have to go to these schools… you had to do so many training sessions a year, and they were usually in the city. The company would pay for a hotel for a week. Everyone had their own rooms, but you’d spend a lot of time with all these men, like in the hotel bars in the evenings. They had these women who would sell lingerie, who would model it in the bars.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, these women would come in and out wearing all these different lingerie items, and some men would buy them for their girlfriends and wives, I guess. I always thought that was kind of strange.”

“Really strange. Like ‘Here, honey, I saw this on a hooker and thought of you.’ What the heck? Who would even buy that?”

“It was kind of surreal. I’d be the only woman there except for these ladies walking around in lacy nightgowns, and little skimpy nightclothes… like teddies and things. They’d just walk up to men in the bar and start telling them ‘this is made of pure satin,’ and things like that. They were selling lingerie and sometimes guys would buy things, but it was like that’s not really what the men were paying for, you know? And there I’d be. 'La la la.'”

I am amazed. “That is just so bizarre. I can’t believe stuff like that really happens.”

“Well, it was like I was telling you, when I’d be at the rig sites and I’d walk through and the men would all be watching porn, and I’d just sort of have to pretend I saw nothing.” She parodies shooting uncomfortable glances to either side. “You know, I wonder with all the laws and regulations and sexual harassment charges if they could still do that these days. I mean, in their own private rooms, probably, but in the public rooms like that.”

“Man, I sure hope not. That is crazy.” I shake my head, and the conversation moves on to other topics briefly, before we return to our viewing of The Office. The over-the-top and borderline offensive antics of the chauvinistic male cast members no longer seem so exaggerated. I remember some of my mom’s other work stories. Like how her male coworkers had their initials and last names on their doors while female workers had their first names written out: ‘so that people would know it was a woman.’ Suddenly, the sitcom’s hyperbole is seeming disturbingly plausible.

Mom passes through later, while I’m working on the computer. “You know,” she says, “looking back on it, on the things I would have to put up with, I am amazed at the level of sexual harassment that was—commonplace, back then. I mean, the lingerie thing was kind of funny; it was like getting to see what when on inside of men’s strip clubs and such. I didn’t mind that. But a lot of the other stuff that went on—I just can’t believe what was tolerated back then.”

No kidding.

Poetry is proportional to Laziness

2008-01-18T14:11:00.000-08:00

Rain
~plus ~
Cold
~plus~
Wind

~minus~
Umbrella (broken)
~minus ~
Tennis Shoes (lost)
~minus ~
Time (late)

~times~
A Sandal Full of Water

~to the power of ~
An Empty Stomach

~equals~
Screw This, I’m Going Back to Bed.

Encore!

2008-01-17T20:57:00.000-08:00

“Hey, look, those people are getting on across the street. Cheaters. ”

My brother Thomas shrugs, unmoved by my whining, and huddles deeper into the collar of his jacket. Tuesdays and Thursdays our classes start at the same time, so we’re sharing a bus for the first time since my elementary days.

“They’re stealing all the buses,” I add. I’m glad I went back for my hooded jacket

“Yeah, but it’s a long route. I think it takes about 15 minutes for the bus to make it all the way back around.”

“I know it does. I’ve watched enough of them go by.” We settle into silent contemplation of our freezing extremities until another bus pulls up across the street. I frown at the people clambering onto it. “At least it’s warm on there. Maybe we should go across.”

“The problem with that idea is that you have to have 15 minutes to spare to get to class,” Thomas points out.

I glance at my watch, and roll my eyes at him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t have class until 9:35.”

“What time is it?”

“9:10.” I so rarely get to correct him. I enjoy the inner warmth of smugness as the bus pulls off across the street. It doesn’t last long, but a girl’s got to distract herself from freezing to death somehow.

Our little frozen huddle of bus stoppers form a lethargic bunch, but we rouse somewhat as a bus pulls around the corner. We lean around each other, von Trapp style to scrutinize the display on the front. Route 27, the sign flashes. The lights scroll to the next panel. Another bus follows. It fans a cold wind across us as it wooshes by.

“Drat,” I grumble. “We should throw ourselves in front of the bus in protest.”

Thomas grins musingly. “The bus driver would be like ‘Another bus would have followed!” He sobs the last line, wringing his hands in imitation of the grief-stricken driver.

I laugh. “Man, I’ll bet three buses go past us. It probably would be faster to get on across the street.” It’s not the drivers’ fault either. Some of it’s beginning of the semester confusion, but mostly they’re just overloaded and understaffed. All around campus, the bus display boards flash: Now Hiring! They might as well add We’re Desperate!

The next bus knocks me out of my reverie as it zooms by, proving my point. School Spirit says its display board. As bus fumes envelop me the sign clicks over. Catch it! it beams at me, disappearing down the road. “The bus is mocking me, Tom,” I growl.

“You’ll live,” he says dismissively. “That or jump in front of a bus.”

Drama, drama, drama

2008-01-16T12:59:00.000-08:00

It’s a cold and drizzly day outside, the sort of day that makes you question the merit of leaving a nice warm apartment (and bed) to struggle your way to class. Reminding myself that it’s only the third day of classes and much too soon in the semester to start skipping, I duck back into the apartment to fasten up my jacket before heading out the bus. There’s no hood on the jacket, so the frigid air runs through my hair like clammy fingers. I feel a bit like I’m breathing in a fish freezer. Yuck.

I check my watch and pick up the pace, because I’m running late and I really don’t want to sit out and wait for the bus in this stuff. Of course, ‘late’ is relative to precisely nothing, insofar as I have yet to work out any coherent system to the bus times. I have only found one consistent answer to the question ‘when does the bus leave?’: Right before I get there. I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten within sight of the bus stop just in time to watch the back of the bus zoom into the distance. The unmistakable gasping noise of bus brakes in the distance lets me know that today is holding true to form.

Drat. If I miss this one there won’t be another for at least 15 minutes... and there’s a good chance I won’t get on that one either. Yesterday, three buses went by before I actually made it on one. The route is overloaded. 15 minutes plus 7 or 8 minutes to walk plus a completely unknown number. A quick mental calculation tells me I won’t make it to class on time.

I can see people filtering onto the bus in the distance. It’s taking a while; there’s a lot of them. But the bus is still pretty far up there.

The professor takes attendance, and he sounds like he's going to be a jerk about this type of thing.

I make a run for it. One hand goes to my pocket to hold my iPod in place, and my other arm tries to control the swinging of my book bag. Not exactly graceful, and I’m feeling like an idiot, but every step towards the bus decreases the chances that the driver will pull off without me.

My diet coke goes flying out of the bag and bounces twice on the pavement. No drinking that thing anytime soon. I scramble to retrieve it anyway, and half-run the last few steps to the bus. It’s filled to overflowing with people already, but the bus driver leaves the door open for me, so I smile apologetically and scootch my way into the front of the crowd. “Full,” I comment to the bus driver at my elbow. This apparently doesn’t merit a response. Oh, well.

There’s one stop left on the route, and, as much as I sympathize with them, I’m still startled when the driver stops for the half dozen people standing there. My fellow aisle passengers and I exchange helpless glances and shuffle nervously. Little by little we coalesce into a solid mass of humanity. I have somehow relocated to the center of the bus, and the only support bar is the one running along the ceiling. I’m short, but if I reach straight up above me, I can just wrap my hand around it. I feel sort of like I’m hanging from the monkey bars on the playground, but the bus jolts into motion and I hold on for dear life.

At least if I lose my balance there’s a cushy mass of people on all sides to hold me up. Unless I fall into the seat next to me. I eye the guy sitting in it, and squelch a wave of irritation. He’s not obligated to offer me his seat, and it’s not that I feel entitled to it as a woman. But he could reach the blasted bar no problem. If I fall on him I’m going elbow first.

As the ride progresses I lose all feeling in my arm, until I’m finally risking death at every smooth point just to get a few seconds of blood into my hand. Whee! No hands! I tell myself it’s like snowboarding or surfing. Self is not convinced. The bus jerks as the traffic ahead slows, and I am reminded that I twisted my knee falling down the mountain the first and only time I tried to ski. I make a frantic grab for the headrest of the seat across the aisle. Slightly better.

Unfortunately, this is when I notice how weird I’m feeling. I’m carsick and dizzy—maybe all my head blood is going to my arm. But my face feels flushed and hot, and I’m suddenly much more aware of the people pressing in around me. I unzip my jacket. The dizziness is getting worse rather than better. I skipped breakfast, but that’s not unusual. Did I eat enough last night? I think so. It was mostly junk food, but that's also nothing unusual. I remember having a big glass of water before bed; I can’t be dehydrated can I? I’m probably just a little motion sick. And maybe still light-headed and over-heated from running. Sometimes people faint at concerts from having their knees locked too long. I had a friend who fell off the stage that way. I flex my knees.

The bus moves onwards, but I’m hardly aware of its occasional jolts and bumps now. I feel like I’m suffocating. I look around. There are a lot of people on this bus, and I’m smashed in the dead center of them. The windows are all closed. Maybe I am suffocating. The oxygen could be getting low. Like when people get trapped on an elevator in a movie--they're always worrying about running out of oxygen. I fight back a claustrophobic impulse and another surge of nausea. Nobody else is dropping to the floor gasping like a fish. It’s probably not possible for everyone else to be breathing all the air. And why the heck would they make air-tight elevators? I scootch my jacket as far off as I can get it in this crowd.

Caught in self-absorbed misery, I’m startled to feel my throat move in reflexive nausea. Black speckles dance in front of my eyes. My knees tremble. Sweet heavens, I might actually pass out. I thought I was just being overdramatic! I want to sit down; I want off this bus; I want to throw up; I want to breathe. Maybe I should beg the guy next to me for his seat. But it’s not more than a few minutes farther and claiming you're about to pass out is just so melodramatic. Besides, he’ll probably think I’m just some entitled female making it up to get his seat. (I’m on the verge of fainting and I’m worrying about women’s lib. Go figure.)

I lock my throat and concentrate on taking deep slow breaths. Not much farther. Just around the corner and down the street. The air will be nice and cold. Just a bit longer. Don’t make a scene this close to the bus stop.

Oh, God, what if I do throw up? The edges of my vision swim, and I feel sick. There’s people all around, and I can’t breath, and if I throw up on someone I’ll die of embarrassment. Maybe I should tell them to stop the bus and let me off. I don’t know if they will and I don’t have the energy to be insistent. I don’t even have the energy to make a scene at this point. Picturing a chaotic mass of confused and alarmed people milling about on the bus makes it worse. If I pass out will they get me off this bus or will they all crowd around and suffocate me?

The bus gets backed up behind another bus at the stop sign just before the bus stop. My vision is fraying at the edges. Let me off, let me off, let me off. I lose some time. The people in the aisle ahead of me are shuffling forwards. I move down the aisle like a zombie. Each of the three large bus steps threatens to conquer my shaking legs, but there’s a bench on the sidewalk just outside the door, and I set my focus on that with grim determination.

I suck the cold clammy air into my lungs gratefully, even though its soggy grip around my head makes me feel even more flushed and nauseous. Dropping onto the bench I stick my head between my knees and spend a few minutes feeling miserable and disregarded as people flow past me. At the same time, I’m trying not to attract attention by looking like someone about to pass out. It’s a paradox, but I feel lousy and my demands of the world don’t have to be logical.

Finally, I realize I need to head to class if I want to make it on time. I certainly don't want to run. I take my feet, zipping up my jacket even though I don’t feel the cold yet. My lungs notice it well enough, and it’ll be worse if I wait. The classroom, when I arrive, feels stuffy and close, but I’m more than ready to get out of the drizzle. Plus I’m still feeling weak-legged.

I slump into my seat, completely forgetting to sign the attendance sheet.

Personal Protection

2008-01-15T21:35:00.000-08:00

“So, do you want to hear what my very intelligent little brother did last night?” Lily asks, as we head to her car after class.

“Ooh, tell!”

“Well, I love Jonathan, and he’s so smart, which is why it’s so funny when he does the dumbest things, you know? It's like sometimes he just doesn’t use his brain. Anyway, he never remembers to brush his teeth, which can get, you know, gross. Because the food builds up on his front teeth, and I’ll be like, ‘Jonathan, go brush your teeth right now!’

“So anyway, Sarah got him this Listerine spray-type stuff in a little bottle. Like that you mist?—” she mimes a breath spray—“you know what I’m talking about? And he took it to class the other day, and one of the kids told him it was like pepper spray and you could spray it people’s eyes and it would hurt. So when he gets home, he decides he should test it out.”

I grin, savoring the direction the story is taking. “Uh oh.”

“Yes. Smart, right? So he squirts some in his face, and it doesn’t hurt. So then he decides he should try it on Dylan, don’t ask me why. To see if it worked the same.”

“Ohhhh, dear.”

“I know! I have no idea what he was thinking, or how he convinced Dylan to do it, but apparently he talked him into it. I guess Dylan had watched him spray himself, or something. But he sprays Dylan in the eyes and he feels it all right!”

I clap my hands over my mouth to cover a horrified laugh. “Oh, no!”

“Yeah, apparently it burns like crazy. So Dylan runs off crying to tell Daddy, and I guess Jonathan doesn’t believe him or something because get this: he turns the bottle around and sprays himself in the eyes!”

“Oh my gosh, he didn’t! Why would he do that?”

“Don’t ask me! Why would he do any of this? To see if it would hurt, apparently! So Daddy comes in, and Dylan’s crying, and Jonathan’s crying, and Daddy’s trying not to laugh, and asking Johnathan what he was doing. And he reads off the bottle and it says ‘keep out of eyes.’ He’s like ‘you’re supposed to put this in your mouth. Not your eyes.’ ”

I’m cracking up. “Oh my gosh, I love your brothers. That’s so awful.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing Mama wasn’t home. She freaks out about this kind of thing. Daddy had to call poison control and make them flush their eyes out with water and everything. And me and Sarah and Tyler were all waiting by the door to see Mama's face when she finds out.”

I shake my head, wiping my eyes. “Wow. That is so classic. Man, I remember this time when I was little and I wanted to make myself sneeze with pepper? You know, like in the poem—‘feed pepper to you little boy’? Alice and Wonderland?”

Lily makes a face. “Ooh…”

“Yeah. Don’t ever put pepper up your nose. Ever. It burned so bad….”

“Well, did you sneeze?”

“I cried. It was really unpleasant. And I didn’t even sneeze. It was all lies.”

“Horrible.”

“I know, isn’t it? Childhood is filled with propaganda. So, yeah, don't put pepper up your nose.”

Lily laughs, shaking her head in mock sympathy, and beeps her car open. "I'll make a note."

Lists

2008-01-14T18:51:00.000-08:00

When I have a million and one things to do, and not nearly enough time to do them in, my number one approach to the problem is to make a list. This allows me to be constructive and organized, while at the same time avoiding doing any actual work. When I’ve killed as much time as I possibly can making a list, I generally eke out a few more minutes of constructive non-work by organizing my list into subcategories: in essence I make lists of lists. This is called prioritizing. Every list item then gets two dates: the time I should do it, and the time I must do it. Once this framework for efficient procrastination is established, I’m free to go about my regularly scheduled activities until I miss the first deadline. Then, of course, I have to rewrite my lists.

And now, I present to you an abbreviated list of Things on My Desk:
1 Picture frame cube with half the picture slots empty
2 Nail clippers
4 Used up Barnes and Noble cards
1 Stuffed Dinosaur-Mouse creature
2 Boxes of push pins, 1 regular, 1 glow in the dark
1 Roll of duct tape
1 text book from previous semester
Box of assorted pens, markers, pencils (mechanical), etc.
3 broken watches
1 of those little call bells that go ‘ding! ding! ding!’ when you hit them
1 unmailed letter
Pile of thank you notes, unsent
Stack of papers requiring attention
1 long lost novel (Dragon Champion), under stack of papers
2 lanyard key-chains with jump drive
1 broken pyrite that I don’t know what to do with
1 half-buried laptop computer and accessories
2 Sticky notes with unattended to-do lists, dating back at least 2 months (on laptop screen)

Breaking Up

2008-01-13T23:50:00.000-08:00

I got dumped today. So of course, in true maudlin style, I decide to write about it. And not just that: in the ultimate example of narcissistic angst, I’m going to blog about it. You may be excused.

All right. So I was pretty sure it was coming. At least I was pretty sure I was pretty sure. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with the dating thing so I’m never quite sure when I’m being perceptive and when I’m confusing my life with a B-movie plotline. Apparently the abrupt four weeks of silence interspersed with awkward and one-sided phone calls over the break really were a sign. I am a relationship prodigy. Go me.

Heck, it only took me a few weeks to figure out that my first official relationship was heading towards a break up. That’s only a few weeks less one or two dates longer than it took for me to reach this conclusion in all my previous quasi-relationships. Either I’m too picky, or not picky enough. Since I can’t seem to manage the traditional meet a guy, fall madly in love, date a while, fall madly out of love relationship format, I try to accomplish one new thing in each relationship.

This time around the goal was to manage a good old fashioned, traditional-style break up, rather than my previous strategy of skipping that step and going directly into witness protection-style avoidance mode. In the past this strategy has led to such proud moments as me spending an entire school year dodging into doorways and down hallways, not to mention the time I made Lily help me send the equivalent of a break-up e-mail to warn off an oblivious stalker-type. I’m not good with conflict—at least of the making another person not like me variety.

So I told Lily going into this that my goal was to still be talking to the guy at the end of it, which she promptly told me was ridiculous. Nonetheless, I really wanted to at least have the option of talking to the guy, even if it was only to snub him by not talking to him. This is not an option under the Witness Protection Program of break up by avoidance. That in mind, Dave was ideal. He had just come out of friendly break up with a girl at his previous college. He didn’t have much previous dating experience either. He was interested. He was really, really cute.

Unfortunately, we had exactly one thing in common—and similar professional interests, even if somewhat obscure, can only get you so far. Herpetology—that’s the study of reptiles and amphibians, folks—is a somewhat close knit field of study. And pretty much everybody in it is just a little bit crazy. In a good way. I told my mom early on that part of the reason I knew I was in the right field was how much I liked all the other people doing it. And this is beginning to sound like some sort of peer-pressure drug and/or extremist cult, but what I am trying to say is that there are many types of people, and these were the type of people I could get along with and even make friends with naturally, which doesn’t come easily to me.

Regrettably, it does not automatically follow that I could maintain successful romantic relationships with all of theses people (and certainly not all at once), and this was the case with Dave. In grade school terminology: I liked him. I just didn’t like like him. So from pretty early on, I found myself wondering how the relationship was going to end.

As happens The Break Up didn’t fit any of my envisioned scenarios, and yet it was so eminently fitting I feel as if I could have picked it out of a line up a week into the relationship. It was Dave. It was me. It was our relationship. The tricky part is—I’m not actually sure what happened. The break down, to the best of my knowledge, is this:

He calls me up after Christmas break and feeds me the ominous but passé ‘we should talk’ line. I'd already gotten something similar via e-mail, so I'm not completely surprised. This is where things get tricky: I have no idea what he says next. I always did have a hard time making him out on the phone. I’m not sure if he mumbles, or my phone has some sort of anti-Dave filter installed. On rare occasions I have suspected that I have some sort of psychological block. Whatever the case, I guess my way through the content of three or four incoherent but ill-omened sentences before I finally have to interrupt the presumed break up speech to say: “I can’t actually hear a word your saying.” Lovely.

This turn of events evidently catches him off guard as well, as his explanatory speech is abandoned in favor of a condensed, to-the-point proclamation. He simply says that he doesn’t see our relationship as continuing. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he said. The gist of it anyway. Actually, I once again have no idea, but rather than prolong the awkwardness of it all, I take a flying leap and say something non-committal but understanding: “I sort of thought this was coming. I kind of got that vibe from you.” I don’t know where exactly my brain is pulling these lines from, but I have to fight a manic impulse to start quoting lyrics from ‘Good Vibrations’ by the Beach Boys.

More semi-coherent explanation of the break up rationale follows, before I distinctly catch the phrase: “to be fair to you.” Now I haven’t exactly been forthright about my own feelings, and a part of me is feeling a bit of a jerk, but that line strikes me as somewhere between funny and insulting. “You’re breaking up with me to be fair to me?” I echo. I had a friend in high school who habitually ended phone conversations with the line ‘I should let you go.’ I’m getting the same feeling here. If you can’t be honest, at least be sincere. I really hate phony double-talk.

But, as I mentioned, I’m not exactly straight-talking the situation myself, so I let the comment go pretty quickly, opting instead to awkwardly circumlocute my way around to my goal. I really don’t want to say it, so we suffer through another few minutes of what I assume is mutual discomfiture. I’m trying to figure out a way to phrase it that doesn’t make me sound like I’m quoting from the universal break up script, but all I’m managing to do is make myself sound like an idiot for longer, so I finally get to the point. “…we can still be friends?” The usual overeager and quite possibly insincere agreements follow. Whatever. I have accomplished my relationship goal, and I can't wait to extricate myself from this whole awkward business. The phone call trails off into platitudes, clichéa, and awkward silences until one of us, I don't remember who, finally puts it out of its misery.

Victory. I have now successfully concluded a relationship via proper break up style. I am going to ignore the nagging voice that tells me that phone break ups are tacky. I am going to ignore the strange and inane melancholy that keeps getting a hold on me. I am going to announce at random intervals: 'I've been dumped' and: 'I don't have a boyfriend' because I have always been a big believer in expressing my feelings through whinining and complaints. If I annoy my brother enough he'll cheer me up by making fun of me. I am not going to be upset because being dumped hurts my vanity. I am definitely not going to be upset over something I knew was coming, or a guy I didn't like like. I am especially not going to be upset over the guy who let me know we were in a relationship via Facebook.

He changed his Facebook status back to single within an hour.

Bastard.