Thank you, Fark.com for demonstrating once again that the true meaning of 'ironic' does not include rain on your wedding day.
The headline: "Lightening Strikes National Weather Service Building."
The clicky: click!
Sometimes, the headlines just write themselves.
This is Irony
Irony has left the building
Here's some bizarre for you:
I'm currently taking "History of African Americans to 1877" at my lovely local community college (cheap tuition, FTW!). The room is nearly full, and I am one of four non-black students. To me, this is sad, because the history of the United States of America isn't just "from whence the white folks came." Having a well-rounded history of all "main players" on the stage of America's development would be cool.
I expect I'll be waiting for that "History of Indigenous Peoples of North America" class for awhile, though. They're still waiting for long-deserved sovereignty, which I think should come first, but that's another rant for a different kind of day.
Where's the irony, you ask? Patience, child.
Every class has a "suck up." Many of my fellow students from previous semesters might be inclined to suggest that usually the suck up is, in fact, me. Not this time. You may be surprised to learn that the suck up in this particular class is in fact one of the non-black males.
A heavily-tattooed white male, with bleached-out hair, earrings, and flip flops, who also happens to be a complete dumbass for a history major. A guy who doesn't know where Mecca is (I think his closest guess was France).
I'll admit that I didn't know, either. The difference between Sucky Boy and me is that I kept my ignorant mouth shut. Bless him, he's young. But I believe it's too late for him to grow more, usable brain cells.
I'm currently taking "History of African Americans to 1877" at my lovely local community college (cheap tuition, FTW!). The room is nearly full, and I am one of four non-black students. To me, this is sad, because the history of the United States of America isn't just "from whence the white folks came." Having a well-rounded history of all "main players" on the stage of America's development would be cool.
I expect I'll be waiting for that "History of Indigenous Peoples of North America" class for awhile, though. They're still waiting for long-deserved sovereignty, which I think should come first, but that's another rant for a different kind of day.
Where's the irony, you ask? Patience, child.
Every class has a "suck up." Many of my fellow students from previous semesters might be inclined to suggest that usually the suck up is, in fact, me. Not this time. You may be surprised to learn that the suck up in this particular class is in fact one of the non-black males.
A heavily-tattooed white male, with bleached-out hair, earrings, and flip flops, who also happens to be a complete dumbass for a history major. A guy who doesn't know where Mecca is (I think his closest guess was France).
I'll admit that I didn't know, either. The difference between Sucky Boy and me is that I kept my ignorant mouth shut. Bless him, he's young. But I believe it's too late for him to grow more, usable brain cells.
as the brains asplodes
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Once upon my younger days, basic math was so simple. Logical diversification was so logical. I was a geekier geek.
Now I am refreshing the memory, dusting off my skilz, and reopening portions of my brain that have been closed off for over a decade. After a day of consultation, negotiation, and calculations, I not only have character, I also have game.
From now on, I am no longer just Uber Mom, Warrior of Higher Education and Keeper of the Younglings. I am also Brenys, Elfin Ranger, Bowyer, and all-around butt-kicker. I even have a Wand of Cure Light Wounds with 20 hits on it. Take that, Superman!
Yes, my friends, I am embarking on a new D&D adventure, the first in over 13 years at least, and also the first in which I do most of my thinking for myself. Male geeks will understand this, knowing full well the lengths to which they had gone to encourage a nice-smelling female to hang out with them.
Another first is that I am introducing one of the Younglings to the game. Still being a preteen, The Boy doesn't have the attention span for a full day's gaming, but he'll build up to that. He nearly held out for a full character completion (Human Wizard). I am so excited for him. Although he is heavily immersed in the Yugi-Oh! world, I am certain he will enjoy this gaming format so much more than any other he's played. The teamwork and patience required for adventuring will build his own personal character while he develops his D&D character. The creativity that goes along with "old school" gaming will hopefully add fuel to his already active imagination and expand his world.
It's "Game On"!!!eleventy-one!!!
Hi ho, hi ho
Well, it's almost that time again. College.
In less than two weeks I'll be starting another full-time schedule. I have to take additional science and history courses in order to transfer as a "junior" to a 4-year university to complete my Bachelor's degree.
Yay.
Biology, sociology, African-American history. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be needing some serious "down time" by the end of the semester. But then I'm just going to repeat this mess again in the spring with more biology, more history, geography and "advanced communications," whatever that is.
In less than two weeks I'll be starting another full-time schedule. I have to take additional science and history courses in order to transfer as a "junior" to a 4-year university to complete my Bachelor's degree.
Yay.
Biology, sociology, African-American history. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be needing some serious "down time" by the end of the semester. But then I'm just going to repeat this mess again in the spring with more biology, more history, geography and "advanced communications," whatever that is.
Yessir, That's My Baby
Indeed, today is a very special day for The Baby. She's the only Southpaw in our house, the only Lefty down the family line after my mom. Six children, fourteen grandchildren, and only one Lefty.
No need to feel sorry for the two of them, because while they are part of the 10% of the population that is left-handed, today is their official special day.
Beginning in the 1970's, the Lefthanders International group has annually sponsored a special Lefty Day on August 13. So give your special Lefty a hug today and celebrate!
Damn Legos! Somebody better clean up this mess...
Zappa-wappa-ker-chowie!
Just in case you haven't heard, today is Frank Zappa Day in Baltimore, Maryland.
Although I don't know much about Mr. Zappa other than he really should have gone easy on the mary-jane while his wife was preggers, I think this is pretty far out, man.
So enjoy today, August 9, 2007, Frank Zappa Day. Do something Zappa. Just don't forget the cheese puffs, dude!
Fun with Bullets!
The actual story is here. But lemme sum up:
A Navy Sailor was trolling online trading insults with an online persona who dared to refer to the Sailor as a 'nerd.' Like that's a bad thing. Anyhoo, the Sailor immediately takes official time off from work in order to visit his family, and on the way there he stops off in Texas and burns the other guy's trailer down.
Interesting, to be sure. But it all sounds so bad, doesn't it?
I think the story has more life if one utilizes a writing technique called "bulleting" to tell the tale. "Bullets" are often used in military performance evaluations. They are not complete sentences, just fragments of ego-puffing fluff designed to make even the slackingest slacker look pretty good. The most mundane and/or unimportant actions are tarted up, turning a boring fiscal year of coffee making and lunch runs into National Importance.
So, in the grand tradition of at least the US military and Department of Defense, I give you:
"posted photos online showing the welcome signs at several states' borders" becomes
A Navy Sailor was trolling online trading insults with an online persona who dared to refer to the Sailor as a 'nerd.' Like that's a bad thing. Anyhoo, the Sailor immediately takes official time off from work in order to visit his family, and on the way there he stops off in Texas and burns the other guy's trailer down.
Interesting, to be sure. But it all sounds so bad, doesn't it?
I think the story has more life if one utilizes a writing technique called "bulleting" to tell the tale. "Bullets" are often used in military performance evaluations. They are not complete sentences, just fragments of ego-puffing fluff designed to make even the slackingest slacker look pretty good. The most mundane and/or unimportant actions are tarted up, turning a boring fiscal year of coffee making and lunch runs into National Importance.
So, in the grand tradition of at least the US military and Department of Defense, I give you:
Fun with Bullets
"posted photos online showing the welcome signs at several states' borders" becomes
-accurately documents time-sensitive mission events"obtained [the victim's] real name and hometown from [a] web page" becomes
-demonstrates ingenuity in fact-finding"....took leave from his post....and started driving" becomes
-finds quickest solution to mission problems
-follows protocol and regulations to the letter"....caught up with [the Sailor] after talking with people in several states and Spain..." becomes
-a real "people" person"....was sentenced to seven years in prison after pleading no contest to arson and admitting he set the blaze" becomes
-responsible; a future leaderSee how fun that is? Bullets turn any bad situation into a great one!
Wil Wheaton and the Truckload of Money
As you all know, I am a "born again" fan of Wil Wheaton's. His "Wesley Crusher" was my favorite Star Trek character ever, mostly because McCoy was so damn crusty and Dax disappointed my imagination when she fell for Warf instead of Bashir (actually, I fell for Bashir and couldn't understand why no one else adored him as I did). I enjoyed the films Wheaton made in his younger days, although missed most of his more recent films because I lived out of the country for awhile. This lapse caused me to forget that I thought he was awesome.
I found Wheaton's blog quite by accident about a year ago and renewed my fansome ways by checking his blog nearly every day. About a month ago, Wheaton presented his readers with a short-lived opportunity to help him test a new payment system for ordering his newest book not yet published. For only a few short hours, those who wished could purchase a professional photo and he would personally sign it then drop it into the mail. The only caveats were that you couldn't live outside the US because he didn't want to deal with bizarre postage and that you absolutely could not pay any other way than PayPal.
Naturally, I spent my $15 and purchased my photo right away. I may have been within the first 10 purchasers, unless not all purchasers left a comment (my comment was 6th, I believe).
Afterwards, I thought to myself that if he only sold 10 photos in that short time, he at least grossed enough cash to pay for dinner and a movie with the clan. However, given the comments throughout the day, many more than just a mere 10 fans were delighted to have been able to purchase this "exclusive" item, while many, many more were disappointed they missed the boat.
I felt bad for the second group. There I was, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my first piece of fan memorabilia, and there they were, sad and pathetic. This made me wonder exactly how much Wheaton could have made if his primary goal had been to fill his garage with cash in exchange for losing an entire weekend and feeling in his hands signing photos of his own face and then stuffing them into envelopes.
I've figured it this way:
$15[(Sign + stuff + peelandstick)X] - (Y + Z) ,
X=# photos sold, Y=total postage, Z=photo print cost
Granted, all he wanted to do was test the payment system to determine it was suitable for his needs as a small-time author/warehouse middleman. The Italian in me, however, saw the potential in the bigger picture, no pun intended.
No matter what the overall financial outcome for Wheaton regarding this little experiment, the only part that matters is this:
I found Wheaton's blog quite by accident about a year ago and renewed my fansome ways by checking his blog nearly every day. About a month ago, Wheaton presented his readers with a short-lived opportunity to help him test a new payment system for ordering his newest book not yet published. For only a few short hours, those who wished could purchase a professional photo and he would personally sign it then drop it into the mail. The only caveats were that you couldn't live outside the US because he didn't want to deal with bizarre postage and that you absolutely could not pay any other way than PayPal.
Naturally, I spent my $15 and purchased my photo right away. I may have been within the first 10 purchasers, unless not all purchasers left a comment (my comment was 6th, I believe).
Afterwards, I thought to myself that if he only sold 10 photos in that short time, he at least grossed enough cash to pay for dinner and a movie with the clan. However, given the comments throughout the day, many more than just a mere 10 fans were delighted to have been able to purchase this "exclusive" item, while many, many more were disappointed they missed the boat.
I felt bad for the second group. There I was, anxiously awaiting the arrival of my first piece of fan memorabilia, and there they were, sad and pathetic. This made me wonder exactly how much Wheaton could have made if his primary goal had been to fill his garage with cash in exchange for losing an entire weekend and feeling in his hands signing photos of his own face and then stuffing them into envelopes.
I've figured it this way:
$15[(Sign + stuff + peelandstick)X] - (Y + Z) ,
X=# photos sold, Y=total postage, Z=photo print cost
Granted, all he wanted to do was test the payment system to determine it was suitable for his needs as a small-time author/warehouse middleman. The Italian in me, however, saw the potential in the bigger picture, no pun intended.
No matter what the overall financial outcome for Wheaton regarding this little experiment, the only part that matters is this:
I got my picture finally! Woot!!eleventy!
And I have discovered that my kids are not Trekkies. Where have I gone wrong?
Strange things are afoot *Updated*
My cat snores and talks in her sleep.
Just thought you'd like to know.
Update!
PS--apparently, this particular post is
my official 100th post, once unpublished
drafts are taken into consideration.
You can't handle the flute!
OOOH! This is totally awesome! I swear, sometimes teh interwebtubes is just wicked cool. I grew up on a steady diet of The Muppet Show and being woken up at about 4 am every morning to my baby brother turning on Star Wars.
My dad had a video-disc machine and this DJ system of four six-foot speaker towers (one per corner) and an amplifier/equalizer system that took its own circuit in the fuse box--serious sound. The den was directly underneath all the bedrooms, and when Mad Dog would get the urge for some Star Wars, saying "this one goes to eleven" doesn't even touch getting jolted out of sound sleep to the sound of the Fox Studios drumroll. Hell, reveille wasn't that impressive.
But this is... Gad, I love this guy. The fact that this guy not only blended the two main themes from my two favorite non-Star Trek televisimatic funtime, but adding the beatbox is fantabulous.
This is the guy's home page. Lots more video fun to be found.
And also for your viewing pleasure, a truly funky white boy, playing music (sort of).
STFU Museum... Wait, what?
Found this through the good people of Fark:
The great State of Arkansas has opened a museum in the quaint little town of Tyronza celebrating an organization which brought together the sharecroppers of the region in order to better protect their jobs and job safety. Oppressed tenant workers and day laborers across Arkansas joined, both black and white, and invited women to join, encouraging them to accept some leadership roles.
This organization was run on Socialist principles, which ultimately led to its downfall during the 1950s McCarthy era. During their 20-ish years, they endured heavy criticism, arrests and even a few beat-downs. But endure they did, until advancing technology, subsequent mass migration of farm workers to the cities, and the anti-Communist/anti-Socialist mindset of the 1950s made the group "increasingly irrelevant."
The organization called itself "Southern Tenant Farmer's Union." The museum is named for the group, and the article shortened the organization's name into a quaint acronym: "STFU."
Hope you enjoyed this little foray into history. Now GBTW!
Many thanks to the Arkansas Times for posting a well-written article.
It's my birthday! *Updated*
Today is my birthday!
Here was me, back when I was 17.
Here's me, 17 years (and 3 kids) later:
I'm on the left. I'm also the only one who's sober.
update: Tom on mySpace declared my birthday as being the highest traffic day for mySpace ever. I totally rock.
This hardly helps.
| You Are a Christmas Sweater! |
 Over the top, colorful, and totally flashy. You're not afraid to be a little tacky. |
A damn christmas sweater. Further proof that if there is a god, s/he does not like me. This is so very wrong, wrong, wrong. I am not tacky! I am... Ummm, uh, well...
As you were.
the one about a very big pain and the boy who looks like a chick
Peeps, I have misplaced the notes I made for my compendium site "Jackass: The Research." I had watched both movies--within 24 hours, mind you--and had made a note of every joke, every stunt, every bad prank and at what time in the film they occurred.
Recently, I engaged in a bit of "Home Makeover." My dining room's far wall was a literal bank of technology and looked a mess. I bought cabinets to replace the desks and downsized a ton of junk. One does not realize the massive amount of rain forest one accumulates over the years until one has to remove 90% of it en masse.
And now the notes are gone.
What this means for you is that you will have to wait longer for my research site to be ready. What this means for me is that I will have to watch those damn movies again. I think this time I will actually watch the 'unrated' versions, since that is what most teens and young adults are watching. The plan is to also eventually watch the regular seasons as well, at least until my brain explodes.
By the way, has anyone invented the Brain Cleanser Brush yet?
---
On a side note, I wanted to point out that while Swangirl's Cygnet no longer looks like Ty Pennington, he now looks like that little yellow chick from the Loony Toons cartoons. You remember the one with Foghorn Leghorn in the rickety henhouse who decides to schmooze up ol' Prissy because her henhouse is all nice and cozy--"I need your love to keep me warm!" But Prissy says she can't marry him unless he makes nice with her son, Egghead, Jr. The kid proceeds to outwit, outmaneuver, and blow up Foghorn until he declares, "I've got my bandages to keep me warm!" as he stomps off into the sunset.
Recently, I engaged in a bit of "Home Makeover." My dining room's far wall was a literal bank of technology and looked a mess. I bought cabinets to replace the desks and downsized a ton of junk. One does not realize the massive amount of rain forest one accumulates over the years until one has to remove 90% of it en masse.
And now the notes are gone.
What this means for you is that you will have to wait longer for my research site to be ready. What this means for me is that I will have to watch those damn movies again. I think this time I will actually watch the 'unrated' versions, since that is what most teens and young adults are watching. The plan is to also eventually watch the regular seasons as well, at least until my brain explodes.
By the way, has anyone invented the Brain Cleanser Brush yet?
---
On a side note, I wanted to point out that while Swangirl's Cygnet no longer looks like Ty Pennington, he now looks like that little yellow chick from the Loony Toons cartoons. You remember the one with Foghorn Leghorn in the rickety henhouse who decides to schmooze up ol' Prissy because her henhouse is all nice and cozy--"I need your love to keep me warm!" But Prissy says she can't marry him unless he makes nice with her son, Egghead, Jr. The kid proceeds to outwit, outmaneuver, and blow up Foghorn until he declares, "I've got my bandages to keep me warm!" as he stomps off into the sunset.
Check this out:
Maybe it's just me, but...
It probably helps (me) that Egghead, Jr was my absolute favorite character from the Warner Bros/Loony Toons stable of cartoons ever. My favorite individual cartoon, however, will forever be the "Spear and Magic Helmet" bit with Bugs and Elmer doing the opera.
Maybe it's just me, but...
It probably helps (me) that Egghead, Jr was my absolute favorite character from the Warner Bros/Loony Toons stable of cartoons ever. My favorite individual cartoon, however, will forever be the "Spear and Magic Helmet" bit with Bugs and Elmer doing the opera.
It just keeps growing and growing...
For your viewing pleasure, Swangirl sent me an updated photo of her little Cygnet. Boy is he getting big! At least he doesn't look like Ty Pennington anymore.
And just think, pretty soon, he'll be driving! I'm thinking he's gonna get tired of all green pretty soon. You might want to start planning for the revolt, Swangirl!
Today and when he came home from the hospital
************
PS: Confession time: this particular post is actually my 100th post, not the one previously posted as the 100th post. I'm a dork, and that's all I have to say about that.
100th Post
In celebration of my 100th post, I am inviting all of my lovely readers to first check this article about a couple who met at a bar and decided to get naked on a rooftop. The reason this made news is because they fell off the roof, did not die immediately but were unable to get up, and then died enroute to the hospital.
I'm waiting for the laughter to taper off before continuing....
....
Okay, you feel better now? Me, too.
Alrighty, then. Here's the situation: I put my feet in my mouth at the Obscure Store by stating that there are tons of adventurous places to get busy without the added threat of dying with your pants down. I've thought of a few; I'd like your suggestions as well. Feel free to post comments anonymously if you need to.
My ideas:
- limo
- tent
- sailboat (docked or open water)
- elevator
- supply closet
- public restrooms (beware of police)
- corn field (beware of harvest and cow-tippers)
Which brings to mind "Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are Dead," a fantastically great movie which has absolutely nothing to do with this particular post, or even anything in particular:
You can have the love and the blood without the rhetoric. You can have the blood and the rhetoric without the love. But you can't have the love and rhetoric without the blood; blood is compulsory.It's just one of my favorite quotes, and I love to toss it out whenever it makes the least sense.
I only hope my Veruca don't want one
Oh, Fark, you are so magnificent. Being a lo-skilz geek, I check out the articles posted there as some are not "not news"-worthy enough to make the main page, but are still relevant to geeky Farkers. Take this gem, for instance:
Sony is busy creating a television so thin, it's bendy and can be sewn into clothing. Mister will be so pleased!
Just imagine it: you're walking the dog, and suddenly you recall that rerun of Will & Grace you wanted to catch was starting in 5 minutes. Damn! What to do, what to do! No problem, you've got your Sony t-shirt television charged up and ready to go!
Somehow, just like that other technical marvel, the mobile phone, I anticipate that this will only end well.
Sony is busy creating a television so thin, it's bendy and can be sewn into clothing. Mister will be so pleased!
Just imagine it: you're walking the dog, and suddenly you recall that rerun of Will & Grace you wanted to catch was starting in 5 minutes. Damn! What to do, what to do! No problem, you've got your Sony t-shirt television charged up and ready to go!
Somehow, just like that other technical marvel, the mobile phone, I anticipate that this will only end well.
Drunken Dumbass-the newest "DD"
In March, Vivica A. Fox was sentenced for driving while intoxicated. She has reemerged into the spotlight to share her story and to offer advice.
Ms. Fox declared that she had made an "unfortunately judgment" and also took full responsibility for her actions, which clearly sets her apart from 99.999997% of all other wealthy and/or celebrity individuals in America. Celebrities are, according to Ms. Fox, "...not above the law." She says she has learned her lesson.
But what exactly was that lesson? Did she learn that by traveling 80 miles per hour down a freeway put the lives of everyone who shared the road with her in jeopardy? Did she learn that she put her own life in jeopardy?
Sorry to disappoint, but what started out so well as a turning point really isn't one after all.
The lesson Ms. Fox learned was that all the rigamarole involved with being convicted of drunk driving is a pain the rump. Her regrets fall mostly on her driving record, about which she lamented the conviction would remain for up to ten years.
Bless your heart, you poor thing. I'm so sorry that your error in judgment is going to remain on your record for a decade. On the other hand, I'm sorry you weren't stopped sooner. I'm sorry you weren't stopped before you got into your vehicle. I'm sorry you surround yourself with weakness.
Who are these friends, coworkers, cohorts, people, that they would let you walk away from them knowing you were not in a fit state to drive? Do you still associate with them? If so, why? It's obvious to me that your celebrity has dazzled them into cowed submission, or ramped up their primeval greed. These people are not looking out for you, Ms. Fox. Indeed, they are looking out for themselves: how much can we gain by being with Vivica A. Fox, super-beautiful super-celebrity?
The lessons to be learned from your experience do not stop at keeping a tidy driving record.
Ms. Fox declared that she had made an "unfortunately judgment" and also took full responsibility for her actions, which clearly sets her apart from 99.999997% of all other wealthy and/or celebrity individuals in America. Celebrities are, according to Ms. Fox, "...not above the law." She says she has learned her lesson.
But what exactly was that lesson? Did she learn that by traveling 80 miles per hour down a freeway put the lives of everyone who shared the road with her in jeopardy? Did she learn that she put her own life in jeopardy?
Sorry to disappoint, but what started out so well as a turning point really isn't one after all.
The lesson Ms. Fox learned was that all the rigamarole involved with being convicted of drunk driving is a pain the rump. Her regrets fall mostly on her driving record, about which she lamented the conviction would remain for up to ten years.
Bless your heart, you poor thing. I'm so sorry that your error in judgment is going to remain on your record for a decade. On the other hand, I'm sorry you weren't stopped sooner. I'm sorry you weren't stopped before you got into your vehicle. I'm sorry you surround yourself with weakness.
Who are these friends, coworkers, cohorts, people, that they would let you walk away from them knowing you were not in a fit state to drive? Do you still associate with them? If so, why? It's obvious to me that your celebrity has dazzled them into cowed submission, or ramped up their primeval greed. These people are not looking out for you, Ms. Fox. Indeed, they are looking out for themselves: how much can we gain by being with Vivica A. Fox, super-beautiful super-celebrity?
The lessons to be learned from your experience do not stop at keeping a tidy driving record.
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