CBS Update - Now With Pics!
Fun weekend of sorts - spent most of Friday and Saturday deliverin' the chilluns to Walnut Hill from Logan, and Beck and the AJ watched King Kong and Click in my absence. Work also unfortunately forced me to miss Greg's 40th birthday party on Saturday, bummer. Aaron and I did get in an excellent dinner at Agostino's in Natick on Saturday, and we successfully whiled Sunday away, watching England beat Ecuador on a nasty goal by David Beckham (that, incidentally, a well-positioned goaltender would have stopped), playing some guitar, and then some Yahtzee and poker and maybe a couple of episodes of Buffy sprinkled in there. It's rainy again in New England, making for nasty humidity and nothing days, plus my heel is still killing and... well, we're really just lazy. So it goes.
One more day with the A-dogg and then it's back to a productive life - just kidding. He leaves tomorrow at 7 AM which translates to leaving Grafton ~5 or so; we may need to try to get some sleep tonight. But today we will come up with something fun to do, I swear, and hopefully something that does not involve sitting around the humid house all day.
Beck started ambulatory today so I gave her a ride to school this AM so she could get head out to the farms. Work will be intermittent this week, so the big goal is to get something done. HA!!! No really, I have been loading up the computer with the software for my MBox, so hopefully some creativity will start flowing. We shall see...
Enjoy your late June festivities, peeps.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Friday, June 23, 2006
Lazy Summers Day
Site or Gossip?
Wrigley's Halloween Costume
I'm sorry, I have to post the pic of Wrigley here, too; it's just too awesome:
Hilarious! And a vague reference to 19th century theatre taboot! Anyways, not a ton to report; Aaron slept in until 1:30 for something new and different so we got nada accomplished. Actually, Beck and I went grocery shopping and went to the gym and she took the dogs woodsing before he had risen, so I suppose things were accomplished despite his better efforts. We whiled the afternoon away watching Buffy and some Freaks and Geeks, then Beck prepared a ridiculously good home-made pizza spread. Alli Wolf came over with salad in toes, so we had a good time chilling on the porch and munching on pizza goodness. We then made the calorific decision to hit Swoops and Squirrels afterwards, then hung out at Alli's for a bit. Good times.
That's really it; a solid sum-up of the day. This is all really just an excuse to get Wrigley's pic up here. She apparently took a nose dive in a mudpile, a move that required TWO baths when she got home. WACKO! Alright, summer job starts tonight. Fun times in the offing. Will check you later, skaters.
Wrigley's Halloween Costume
I'm sorry, I have to post the pic of Wrigley here, too; it's just too awesome:
Hilarious! And a vague reference to 19th century theatre taboot! Anyways, not a ton to report; Aaron slept in until 1:30 for something new and different so we got nada accomplished. Actually, Beck and I went grocery shopping and went to the gym and she took the dogs woodsing before he had risen, so I suppose things were accomplished despite his better efforts. We whiled the afternoon away watching Buffy and some Freaks and Geeks, then Beck prepared a ridiculously good home-made pizza spread. Alli Wolf came over with salad in toes, so we had a good time chilling on the porch and munching on pizza goodness. We then made the calorific decision to hit Swoops and Squirrels afterwards, then hung out at Alli's for a bit. Good times.
That's really it; a solid sum-up of the day. This is all really just an excuse to get Wrigley's pic up here. She apparently took a nose dive in a mudpile, a move that required TWO baths when she got home. WACKO! Alright, summer job starts tonight. Fun times in the offing. Will check you later, skaters.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Summer Solstice is Behindice
Site or Gossip? Nyet
Another year, another champion - Aaron & I watched the Miami Heat win the NBA championship on Tuesday night after many an argument over whether there is actually any point to comparing Dwyane Wade to MJ and some arguments over my brother's dubious claim that Wade is "always on." Wade was pretty dope this entire series in a "head down, drive to the basket and have the refs call pansy touch fouls with 1.9 seconds left in Game 5" kinda way. But can we all agree that global warming has nothing to do with George Bush, but is rather caused by all the hot air escaping the lips of sportswriters these days? Seriously, MJ retired dudes. Wade is not the next MJ; he's the only Wade. And even if you ant to play the comparison game, let's a least wait until, say, his 3rd championship. A'ight? MJ was a phenomenon - actually a circus show if you remember it (even when the Bulls weren't winning rings people dropped everything to see the guy play) - and whatever Wade is, it's ludicrous to compare it to a full career, 6 championships in a different era.
As for him always being on... guys who are "always on" don't clank two free throws in the clutch - HA HA. I don't really believe that, but scroll to the bottom of this page of the play by play and take a peek at who missed two in a one point game in the 4th quarter of game 6 of the NBA Finals. Oooh. He's so "clutch." I don't buy it for a second - dude is incredible, but he's just not, no one is, a storybook demi-god. So get out the broom and dustpan already; your shattered dreams and false nostalgia for the eighties have their place.
Woke up Tuesday morning with a wicked bruise on my left heel from the Lack-of-an-ultimate game on Monday night, which more or less did me in for the day. Aaron and I played some music, learned some songs (Sweet Emotion, With Arms Outstretched, House of the Rising Sun, random blues / piano stuff) and all in all had a fun day despite the raging heat. Beck ran errands and generally scoffed at our lack of activity - at one point we managed to lumber outside to grab some ice cream at Scoops and Swirls, but that was really our only earth-shattering outstep for the day. The dreary heat and humidity made for some nice PM thunderstorms and breezy evening, so Beck decided to grill on the porch - great burgers and sausage, and this awesome sunset:
On to Wednesday, when Beck made the excellent call to go to Manchester by the Sea for a day at the Beach. Much fun! We stopped en route at the Vet School so Beck could deliver some faxes, and Aaron and I tossed the disc, grabbing odd looks from the admins inside. Took about an hour and a half to get to MbtS, and we spent the day doing typical beachy things - frisbee tossing, reading, falling asleep, getting mildly sunburned, etc. Aaron and I spent a good deal of time trying to connect on a huck from me to Aaron for a layout into the waves - when we eventually got it, 'twas spectacular, as Aaron laid out directly into a curling wave for one of the loudest belly flops you're likely to hear. Spectacular. Hung out for a bit and took some pictures - unfortunately, the flash on the camera kept going off, and against the stark blue sky it makes these look like an exercise in really bad photoshopping. I promise, I swear, we were actually there. Anyhoo, the rest of the trip was non-eventful (except we stopped at the slowest Seafood restaurant in the universe so we didn't have to battle traffic - successful in the traffic-free ride home dept., boldly unsuccessful in the "had a good meal" dept. Anyways, fun times, and I'll leave you with this stunning graphic evidence (and please note, those hot sunglasses worn my Mr. Aaron Johnson were provided by the generosity of IPJ himself):
Another year, another champion - Aaron & I watched the Miami Heat win the NBA championship on Tuesday night after many an argument over whether there is actually any point to comparing Dwyane Wade to MJ and some arguments over my brother's dubious claim that Wade is "always on." Wade was pretty dope this entire series in a "head down, drive to the basket and have the refs call pansy touch fouls with 1.9 seconds left in Game 5" kinda way. But can we all agree that global warming has nothing to do with George Bush, but is rather caused by all the hot air escaping the lips of sportswriters these days? Seriously, MJ retired dudes. Wade is not the next MJ; he's the only Wade. And even if you ant to play the comparison game, let's a least wait until, say, his 3rd championship. A'ight? MJ was a phenomenon - actually a circus show if you remember it (even when the Bulls weren't winning rings people dropped everything to see the guy play) - and whatever Wade is, it's ludicrous to compare it to a full career, 6 championships in a different era.
As for him always being on... guys who are "always on" don't clank two free throws in the clutch - HA HA. I don't really believe that, but scroll to the bottom of this page of the play by play and take a peek at who missed two in a one point game in the 4th quarter of game 6 of the NBA Finals. Oooh. He's so "clutch." I don't buy it for a second - dude is incredible, but he's just not, no one is, a storybook demi-god. So get out the broom and dustpan already; your shattered dreams and false nostalgia for the eighties have their place.
Woke up Tuesday morning with a wicked bruise on my left heel from the Lack-of-an-ultimate game on Monday night, which more or less did me in for the day. Aaron and I played some music, learned some songs (Sweet Emotion, With Arms Outstretched, House of the Rising Sun, random blues / piano stuff) and all in all had a fun day despite the raging heat. Beck ran errands and generally scoffed at our lack of activity - at one point we managed to lumber outside to grab some ice cream at Scoops and Swirls, but that was really our only earth-shattering outstep for the day. The dreary heat and humidity made for some nice PM thunderstorms and breezy evening, so Beck decided to grill on the porch - great burgers and sausage, and this awesome sunset:
On to Wednesday, when Beck made the excellent call to go to Manchester by the Sea for a day at the Beach. Much fun! We stopped en route at the Vet School so Beck could deliver some faxes, and Aaron and I tossed the disc, grabbing odd looks from the admins inside. Took about an hour and a half to get to MbtS, and we spent the day doing typical beachy things - frisbee tossing, reading, falling asleep, getting mildly sunburned, etc. Aaron and I spent a good deal of time trying to connect on a huck from me to Aaron for a layout into the waves - when we eventually got it, 'twas spectacular, as Aaron laid out directly into a curling wave for one of the loudest belly flops you're likely to hear. Spectacular. Hung out for a bit and took some pictures - unfortunately, the flash on the camera kept going off, and against the stark blue sky it makes these look like an exercise in really bad photoshopping. I promise, I swear, we were actually there. Anyhoo, the rest of the trip was non-eventful (except we stopped at the slowest Seafood restaurant in the universe so we didn't have to battle traffic - successful in the traffic-free ride home dept., boldly unsuccessful in the "had a good meal" dept. Anyways, fun times, and I'll leave you with this stunning graphic evidence (and please note, those hot sunglasses worn my Mr. Aaron Johnson were provided by the generosity of IPJ himself):
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
It's Hot; Ridiculous Ultimate; Spastic Siblings; Hurricane Stanleys; Tickle-Me-Ridiculous-Plot
Site or Gossip?
CBS Update
The AJ has hit South Grafton, yo, and it will never be the same. He joins us in our time of insane heatwave, unfortunately, so we're all cooking a little bit in the apartment. Bah - 97 degrees or so the last couple of days. Nothing a little fan or one-room AC unit or, failing those, and if you're a dog, a bowlful of ice cubes can't cure. He should be fine with the heat anyways, as should everyone, lest I launch into a Texas-two-a-days diatribe. Crap, Johnson, you couldn't run out of sight in a week.
Let's see - some rather unwise persons, let's call them Dom and Mad, had Aaron Z-rayed only to learn that he has some mild congenital hip dysplasia. I am sure it is uncomfortable - but it seems to have been an act of enablement, giving him "hard scientific medical evidence" that he can wiggle around and spastically move like a orangutan suffering from heroin withdrawal. I mean, the neck cricks, shoulder and back-popping were ludicrous enough, but now it's full body insanity - he can't just sit and watch TV, he does Roxette leg kicks and spasms and good lord is it distracting. Like I said, I am sorry he has an uncomfortable hip, but his method of dealing with it makes him look like he has some spastic axial Tourette's or something. He theoretically has stretches and exercises to do, but I 1, can't suggest that he do them, for that would be an intrusion on his very soul, so 2, I will keep a rough count of how many times I see him do them over the next few days. Shockingly, at the start of the 36th hour, the odometer is still stuck on zero. As long as I'm bitching, on the ride home last night he began trying to recount which of my stories he had read, and he managed to recall all of 2 pages. So he says he's going to "read them while he's here" so we can talk about them. If you need a job done four months after the fact, Aaron is your man.
Picked Aaron up at the aeropuerto Sunday evening, and it took us nine years to get back from Providence - the New England "unmarked road" phenomena were in full effect. We watched Game 5 of the NBA Finals on Sunday night; very disheartening for the Dallas fans out there. The foul called on Nowitzki with 1.6 seconds left (on DWade) was, um, interesting - the general consensus is that the last few seconds of the game, particularly in THE FINALS, are "let them play" seconds. So calling a phantom foul on Dirk to give Miami the win is kind absurd. I like free throws as much as the next guy, but 25 of them? I suppose Wade has more star-power than Dier Dirk. Hmph. Anyhoo, Beck made burritos, very delicious, and we had a good night at home.
Aaron slept until 11 Monday; got up for a little while to jam on guitar a bit and then went back to sleep. We watched the first hour and a half of St. Elmo's Fire, and jeebus, I'm going to have to review that film. I couldn't sit still to watch it - is Aaron's hip infectious? - just way too much awkwardness, preposterous story lines and characters (Emilio?), etc. So bad it's bad kinda thing. We only watched the first 1.5 hours of it because we had to leave at 4 to go to my Ultimate game...
Just another dumb experience under the belt. Nothing to do with the actual Ultimate, and actually more to do with the lack of actual Ultimate. We were supposed to play BBN in Lexington, which is not a stone's throw from Grafton. I needed to stop by the Natick Library; Aaron needed some shoes. So we left the house at 4:15, got to Natick, did our things, and left there about 5:20. We got to Lexington a little after 6 thanks to some more unlabeled Boston streets. SO we get there, and BBN is there, but so is some other bunch of quacks. So the BBN captain had double-booked us, and the brilliant solution was for them to play to 11 and then we would play BBN afterwards. We half-heartedly scrimmaged in the meantime, and then got to play for a whopping 25 minutes or so when it got dark and mosquito-y. Bah. Big fat waste of time - on the plus side, my knee and shoulders felt a lot better, but I mashed my heel at some point during the game and am limping around today. So I think I am officially boycotting the MIT game tonight. STUPID!
Aaron and I stopped by Chili's in Framingham on the way back to get dinner and watch Carolina win the Stanley Cup in a fun hockey game. The local regulars were out in full force last night, so I suppose we got to see the makings of a really lame, corporate white-washed and American standardized real life version of St. Elmo's Fire. The characters in the bar were vastly less attractive, though mounds more believable and infinitely less annoying. Fun to see Carolina hoist the Cup, and glad they didn't let Edmonton run the table on them. We came back here and I showered and pretty much immediately went to bed. I just came to the computer this morning - Aaaron & Beck are asleep - to find THIS on my desktop, so maybe Aaron will come through this time.
Whatever. Fun having AJ in the hizza. We'll try to do some recording today, methinks.
CBS Update
The AJ has hit South Grafton, yo, and it will never be the same. He joins us in our time of insane heatwave, unfortunately, so we're all cooking a little bit in the apartment. Bah - 97 degrees or so the last couple of days. Nothing a little fan or one-room AC unit or, failing those, and if you're a dog, a bowlful of ice cubes can't cure. He should be fine with the heat anyways, as should everyone, lest I launch into a Texas-two-a-days diatribe. Crap, Johnson, you couldn't run out of sight in a week.
Let's see - some rather unwise persons, let's call them Dom and Mad, had Aaron Z-rayed only to learn that he has some mild congenital hip dysplasia. I am sure it is uncomfortable - but it seems to have been an act of enablement, giving him "hard scientific medical evidence" that he can wiggle around and spastically move like a orangutan suffering from heroin withdrawal. I mean, the neck cricks, shoulder and back-popping were ludicrous enough, but now it's full body insanity - he can't just sit and watch TV, he does Roxette leg kicks and spasms and good lord is it distracting. Like I said, I am sorry he has an uncomfortable hip, but his method of dealing with it makes him look like he has some spastic axial Tourette's or something. He theoretically has stretches and exercises to do, but I 1, can't suggest that he do them, for that would be an intrusion on his very soul, so 2, I will keep a rough count of how many times I see him do them over the next few days. Shockingly, at the start of the 36th hour, the odometer is still stuck on zero. As long as I'm bitching, on the ride home last night he began trying to recount which of my stories he had read, and he managed to recall all of 2 pages. So he says he's going to "read them while he's here" so we can talk about them. If you need a job done four months after the fact, Aaron is your man.
Picked Aaron up at the aeropuerto Sunday evening, and it took us nine years to get back from Providence - the New England "unmarked road" phenomena were in full effect. We watched Game 5 of the NBA Finals on Sunday night; very disheartening for the Dallas fans out there. The foul called on Nowitzki with 1.6 seconds left (on DWade) was, um, interesting - the general consensus is that the last few seconds of the game, particularly in THE FINALS, are "let them play" seconds. So calling a phantom foul on Dirk to give Miami the win is kind absurd. I like free throws as much as the next guy, but 25 of them? I suppose Wade has more star-power than Dier Dirk. Hmph. Anyhoo, Beck made burritos, very delicious, and we had a good night at home.
Aaron slept until 11 Monday; got up for a little while to jam on guitar a bit and then went back to sleep. We watched the first hour and a half of St. Elmo's Fire, and jeebus, I'm going to have to review that film. I couldn't sit still to watch it - is Aaron's hip infectious? - just way too much awkwardness, preposterous story lines and characters (Emilio?), etc. So bad it's bad kinda thing. We only watched the first 1.5 hours of it because we had to leave at 4 to go to my Ultimate game...
Just another dumb experience under the belt. Nothing to do with the actual Ultimate, and actually more to do with the lack of actual Ultimate. We were supposed to play BBN in Lexington, which is not a stone's throw from Grafton. I needed to stop by the Natick Library; Aaron needed some shoes. So we left the house at 4:15, got to Natick, did our things, and left there about 5:20. We got to Lexington a little after 6 thanks to some more unlabeled Boston streets. SO we get there, and BBN is there, but so is some other bunch of quacks. So the BBN captain had double-booked us, and the brilliant solution was for them to play to 11 and then we would play BBN afterwards. We half-heartedly scrimmaged in the meantime, and then got to play for a whopping 25 minutes or so when it got dark and mosquito-y. Bah. Big fat waste of time - on the plus side, my knee and shoulders felt a lot better, but I mashed my heel at some point during the game and am limping around today. So I think I am officially boycotting the MIT game tonight. STUPID!
Aaron and I stopped by Chili's in Framingham on the way back to get dinner and watch Carolina win the Stanley Cup in a fun hockey game. The local regulars were out in full force last night, so I suppose we got to see the makings of a really lame, corporate white-washed and American standardized real life version of St. Elmo's Fire. The characters in the bar were vastly less attractive, though mounds more believable and infinitely less annoying. Fun to see Carolina hoist the Cup, and glad they didn't let Edmonton run the table on them. We came back here and I showered and pretty much immediately went to bed. I just came to the computer this morning - Aaaron & Beck are asleep - to find THIS on my desktop, so maybe Aaron will come through this time.
Whatever. Fun having AJ in the hizza. We'll try to do some recording today, methinks.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Oh, Dad's not gonna dig that final score...
Who loves game sevens?
Preston the Llama loves game sevens.
Carolina got *mauled* by Edmonton tonight and now heads home to face the most exciting thing in all of everything, an NHL game 7. It probably has not come out in any way to this point that I love hockey, clearly a dank betrayal of my confederate roots. The lockout pretty much killed my enthusiasm of late (the Finals have resurrected it to a great degree), but there was a time when I would watch any hockey game of any variety any time. I randomly took on the Sharks as a team of choice - and you may think I'm using "random" in that quasi-cool, late 90's early aughts way, as in "OMG, you hooked up with the most rando skank last night!" but I'm not - really, my roommate Ryan and I picked random teams to play against one another in NHL 98; he got Carolina, I got San Jose - and ever since that fateful night in '98, I've been a southernly displaced ice addict. Like I mentioned a couple fo days ago - there's some deadly romanticism in the struggle for every advantage when goals are scarce, something that soccer embraces and hockey just a little bit less so. But hockey also has body checks and fights, so they apply to my non pony-tailed side, too.
Only problem, getting back on track, is that we have an Ultimate game Monday night during the game 7. Boo-urns! I guess I'll record, or maybe stop by a sports bar on the way home all stanktified. Too bad.
Ah, Ultimate. I haven't played in a couple of weeks - been banged up a little, generally unenthusiastic about the game and the Roid, and seriously unenthusiastic about the prospect of driving over an hour only to have a game rained out. Hopefully the time off has healed my weary legs a little bit. We'll see.
Not much else - we went to the Worcester Art Museum with Val, one of Beck's classmates this morning. The museum was very cool; we didn't see a ton, but saw some surrealism that... well, hey, I'll just:
Violin d'Ingres by Man Ray (1924)
Which is just a fantastic image. Saw lots of others that I don't particularly feel like scouring the web for right this second... in fact, it's too late for art talk. Suffice it - good time, good inspiration from the museum. I listened to Miles Davis's A Tribute to Jack johnson to drown out the ill-dreamt commentary from the other patrons, and it made for an excellent soundscape.
Got some Chinese food with Val in a dingy Worcester Chinese restuarant. The food was excellent; the ambience was full of solicitors, sleazy dudes and general dirtiness. Val is a crazy driver, not surprisingly. That's all I got. Oh, she also likes to suck a large quantity of face with her boyfriend in public.
Tiredness creeps in. Time to bed... AJ tomorrow! Wahoo!
Preston the Llama loves game sevens.
Carolina got *mauled* by Edmonton tonight and now heads home to face the most exciting thing in all of everything, an NHL game 7. It probably has not come out in any way to this point that I love hockey, clearly a dank betrayal of my confederate roots. The lockout pretty much killed my enthusiasm of late (the Finals have resurrected it to a great degree), but there was a time when I would watch any hockey game of any variety any time. I randomly took on the Sharks as a team of choice - and you may think I'm using "random" in that quasi-cool, late 90's early aughts way, as in "OMG, you hooked up with the most rando skank last night!" but I'm not - really, my roommate Ryan and I picked random teams to play against one another in NHL 98; he got Carolina, I got San Jose - and ever since that fateful night in '98, I've been a southernly displaced ice addict. Like I mentioned a couple fo days ago - there's some deadly romanticism in the struggle for every advantage when goals are scarce, something that soccer embraces and hockey just a little bit less so. But hockey also has body checks and fights, so they apply to my non pony-tailed side, too.
Only problem, getting back on track, is that we have an Ultimate game Monday night during the game 7. Boo-urns! I guess I'll record, or maybe stop by a sports bar on the way home all stanktified. Too bad.
Ah, Ultimate. I haven't played in a couple of weeks - been banged up a little, generally unenthusiastic about the game and the Roid, and seriously unenthusiastic about the prospect of driving over an hour only to have a game rained out. Hopefully the time off has healed my weary legs a little bit. We'll see.
Not much else - we went to the Worcester Art Museum with Val, one of Beck's classmates this morning. The museum was very cool; we didn't see a ton, but saw some surrealism that... well, hey, I'll just:
Violin d'Ingres by Man Ray (1924)
Which is just a fantastic image. Saw lots of others that I don't particularly feel like scouring the web for right this second... in fact, it's too late for art talk. Suffice it - good time, good inspiration from the museum. I listened to Miles Davis's A Tribute to Jack johnson to drown out the ill-dreamt commentary from the other patrons, and it made for an excellent soundscape.
Got some Chinese food with Val in a dingy Worcester Chinese restuarant. The food was excellent; the ambience was full of solicitors, sleazy dudes and general dirtiness. Val is a crazy driver, not surprisingly. That's all I got. Oh, she also likes to suck a large quantity of face with her boyfriend in public.
Tiredness creeps in. Time to bed... AJ tomorrow! Wahoo!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
What was that CSNY song again???
Site or Gossip?
Gossip: The A-Child - that's right, my brother, AJ Wright - lands tomorrow evening. We are going to tear South Grafton up, yo! Seriously, I am excited, and hopefully we will collaborate on some music / writing projects. Should be awesome. I'll keep you updated.
Back2Blog: Slow week involving a whole lot of reading, guitar-playing and general computer maintenance. Also, what with the one car (and the fact that I ain't workin'), a lot of trips to Rebecca Maggiedeleine's Farm. Er, Vet School. She's been on her radiology rotation, and has likewise had little to nothing going on. I apologize for the severe dearth of content, but I figured I would just wait for the dog to strike me rather than report a whole lot of "today I made coffee" type entries. Wait - did I just say wait for the dog to strike me?
Yeah, it looked something vaguely like that. I had just gotten a haircut at our local Supercuts from a new girl, let's call her "Jenny." An although-unbeknownst-to-me fateful moment occurred between us when Jenny asked, " how do you want the sides?" normally I reply with an ambiguous "somewhere between a 1 and a 2," which almost unfailingly garners me a 1 and a half. Today, thought, I wasn't really thinking, and so I just said, "short, I just don't want my hair hanging over my ears." She said, "Okay, how about a two," and apparently my desire for shortness did not come across.
So Jenny's cut was suboptimal, really left the sides too long and the hairs were sticking out uneven lengths. Not Krusty-sticking out, but sticking out nonetheless. So I went into the bathroom when I got home, pulled out my electric razor/clippers and... did nothing. The battery was dead, so I had to plug it in. Another fatal mistake. Well, not fatal, but... the toothbrush charger and the iStation were plugged into the bathroom socket, so I unplugged the iStation and opened the door to set its adaptor on the counter. I failed to close the door this time, which I suppose was the actual mistake in this entire mess. SO I plugged in the razor, went to lightly trim the edge of my sideburns when... um, see above.
SPARKLE!!!! She came flying in the bathroom - I had not adequately petted her hello on my way into the apartment, and here she took he vengeance. She jumped up at me and I instantly thought that I should keep the electric charger from falling in the sink. Mind you, the sink had no water in it, so my chances of being electrocuted were slim to none, but still safety first (except, apparently, when it comes to using razors near your head and leaving doors open). So I lunged (okay, quickly jabbed) the foot to my left to catch the electric charger and felt a slight buzz at my right temple. Here is the result of that slight buzz:
Yowsers. A little bit of yelling at the Sparkle, I confess, followed, but really, what can you do. I spent about five seconds trying to fix it but ended up with what looked like the start of a moronically hideous bowl cut so I stopped. Luckily, there's a new barbershop around the block, so I went there for an emergency fix - couldn't very well walk around with a hideous bowl cut, you know, what with my fans and all. He did this:
To the back and top, and that's pretty much the only detailed shot I can show you without vomiting all over the keyboard. Yep, I look a little hideous, but better now than with the sideburn-ectomy I had given myself moments before. In fact, I proceeded to shave me 5 day beard into a goatee to give myself a psychotic killer kinda motif. Instead I may have ended up with some odd combo of Beaker the Muppet, Luis Gonzalez (oddly enough also known by a Muppet nickname, Gonzo), and my childhood friend Brian Baker in his shaven-headed Aggie Drum Corps days. Well, here's the happy result:
SO, mothers hide your daughters, and don't leave the door open when Sparkle is in your apartment and you're trying to do a touchup job on a bad haircut. Lest you end up like THAT. Actually, it's not terrible, I just don't look much like myself. And it's hard to play nice acoustic love songs this way. I may have to exclusively do acoustic Pantera covers from now on. Mouth for WAR!!!!
That's basically been the meat of the week. If I had a bag on my shoulder, perhaps I'd look even MORE like a military man. Anyhoo - I will try to get something daily going for Aaron's stay. Until then, because it's now running through my head, I'll leave you with these touching lyrics from Diamond Darrel (RIP) et al:
"Mouth For War" by Pantera
Revenge! I'm screaming revenge again.
Wrong! I've been wrong for far too long.
Been constantly so frustrated: I've moved mountains with less.
When I channel my hate to productive I don't find it hard to impress.
Bones! In traction!
Hands break to hone raw energy.
Bold! And disastrous!
My ears can't hear what you say to me.
Hold your mouth for war
Use it for what it's for
Speak the truth about me
Determined!
Possessed! I feel a conquering will down inside me.
Strength! The strength of many to crush who might stop me.
My strength is in number, and my soul lies in every one.
The releasing of anger can better any medicine under the sun
Hold your mouth for war
Use it for what it's for
Speak the truth about me
Determined!
(Insert Freaking Sweet Guitar Solo Here)
There comes a time within everyone to close your eyes to what's real...
No comprehension to fail / I vacuum the wind for my sail / Can't be the rest / Let others waste my time / Owning success is the bottom line / Like a knife into flesh / After life is to death / Pulling and punching the rest of duration / NO ONE can piss on this determination! / HUH!
Gossip: The A-Child - that's right, my brother, AJ Wright - lands tomorrow evening. We are going to tear South Grafton up, yo! Seriously, I am excited, and hopefully we will collaborate on some music / writing projects. Should be awesome. I'll keep you updated.
Back2Blog: Slow week involving a whole lot of reading, guitar-playing and general computer maintenance. Also, what with the one car (and the fact that I ain't workin'), a lot of trips to Rebecca Maggiedeleine's Farm. Er, Vet School. She's been on her radiology rotation, and has likewise had little to nothing going on. I apologize for the severe dearth of content, but I figured I would just wait for the dog to strike me rather than report a whole lot of "today I made coffee" type entries. Wait - did I just say wait for the dog to strike me?
Yeah, it looked something vaguely like that. I had just gotten a haircut at our local Supercuts from a new girl, let's call her "Jenny." An although-unbeknownst-to-me fateful moment occurred between us when Jenny asked, " how do you want the sides?" normally I reply with an ambiguous "somewhere between a 1 and a 2," which almost unfailingly garners me a 1 and a half. Today, thought, I wasn't really thinking, and so I just said, "short, I just don't want my hair hanging over my ears." She said, "Okay, how about a two," and apparently my desire for shortness did not come across.
So Jenny's cut was suboptimal, really left the sides too long and the hairs were sticking out uneven lengths. Not Krusty-sticking out, but sticking out nonetheless. So I went into the bathroom when I got home, pulled out my electric razor/clippers and... did nothing. The battery was dead, so I had to plug it in. Another fatal mistake. Well, not fatal, but... the toothbrush charger and the iStation were plugged into the bathroom socket, so I unplugged the iStation and opened the door to set its adaptor on the counter. I failed to close the door this time, which I suppose was the actual mistake in this entire mess. SO I plugged in the razor, went to lightly trim the edge of my sideburns when... um, see above.
SPARKLE!!!! She came flying in the bathroom - I had not adequately petted her hello on my way into the apartment, and here she took he vengeance. She jumped up at me and I instantly thought that I should keep the electric charger from falling in the sink. Mind you, the sink had no water in it, so my chances of being electrocuted were slim to none, but still safety first (except, apparently, when it comes to using razors near your head and leaving doors open). So I lunged (okay, quickly jabbed) the foot to my left to catch the electric charger and felt a slight buzz at my right temple. Here is the result of that slight buzz:
Yowsers. A little bit of yelling at the Sparkle, I confess, followed, but really, what can you do. I spent about five seconds trying to fix it but ended up with what looked like the start of a moronically hideous bowl cut so I stopped. Luckily, there's a new barbershop around the block, so I went there for an emergency fix - couldn't very well walk around with a hideous bowl cut, you know, what with my fans and all. He did this:
To the back and top, and that's pretty much the only detailed shot I can show you without vomiting all over the keyboard. Yep, I look a little hideous, but better now than with the sideburn-ectomy I had given myself moments before. In fact, I proceeded to shave me 5 day beard into a goatee to give myself a psychotic killer kinda motif. Instead I may have ended up with some odd combo of Beaker the Muppet, Luis Gonzalez (oddly enough also known by a Muppet nickname, Gonzo), and my childhood friend Brian Baker in his shaven-headed Aggie Drum Corps days. Well, here's the happy result:
SO, mothers hide your daughters, and don't leave the door open when Sparkle is in your apartment and you're trying to do a touchup job on a bad haircut. Lest you end up like THAT. Actually, it's not terrible, I just don't look much like myself. And it's hard to play nice acoustic love songs this way. I may have to exclusively do acoustic Pantera covers from now on. Mouth for WAR!!!!
That's basically been the meat of the week. If I had a bag on my shoulder, perhaps I'd look even MORE like a military man. Anyhoo - I will try to get something daily going for Aaron's stay. Until then, because it's now running through my head, I'll leave you with these touching lyrics from Diamond Darrel (RIP) et al:
"Mouth For War" by Pantera
Revenge! I'm screaming revenge again.
Wrong! I've been wrong for far too long.
Been constantly so frustrated: I've moved mountains with less.
When I channel my hate to productive I don't find it hard to impress.
Bones! In traction!
Hands break to hone raw energy.
Bold! And disastrous!
My ears can't hear what you say to me.
Hold your mouth for war
Use it for what it's for
Speak the truth about me
Determined!
Possessed! I feel a conquering will down inside me.
Strength! The strength of many to crush who might stop me.
My strength is in number, and my soul lies in every one.
The releasing of anger can better any medicine under the sun
Hold your mouth for war
Use it for what it's for
Speak the truth about me
Determined!
(Insert Freaking Sweet Guitar Solo Here)
There comes a time within everyone to close your eyes to what's real...
No comprehension to fail / I vacuum the wind for my sail / Can't be the rest / Let others waste my time / Owning success is the bottom line / Like a knife into flesh / After life is to death / Pulling and punching the rest of duration / NO ONE can piss on this determination! / HUH!
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Sine O' The Times
Site or Gossip? You Betcha
New Dog Tail - The State of Dog
New Art Gallery
Beck's Art Gallery
THE ARSENAL!!!
...Starts to Cycling, and I'm filled with 2 Pis - could it be a trig function in me, or is this the way my personality's supposed to be???
Love having my personality, relative lack of happiness and thoughts reduced to trivial one-liners, gentle readers. How apt. Well, chew on this negative one:
This little sticker was affixed to a pack of 24 wooden old skool pencils I bought earlier this semester. Serves nicely as a little corporate decal of the apocalypse, methinks - like a dentist's office treasure chest of inane questions. Why the colon after "includes?" What makes these particular pencils "pre-sharpened" as opposed to just "sharpened?" I mean, I understand the notion of a "pre-approved loan" - approved before you even meet me - but was there any chance I wasn't going to qualify for pencil sharpening, that you're going out on a limb for me here? And what's with sharpening my pencils for me anyways? Is this a major effort-saving selling point, like I'm comparison shopping pencil packs and the 15 seconds you saved me is the deal clencher? And if so, once you make the purple print on shiny silver sticker step, why not throw a guy some exclamation points - are you implying that the inclusion of pre-sharpened pencils is some run of the mill every day event? Maybe my biggest qualm with this entire experience - why stop at 4? Aren't you just opening the door for your competitors to offer 6 of 24 sharpened pencils? Is there some kind of pencil shaving cartel out there? For sake's sake, why not sharpen all 24? Would that make this whole endeavor cost-inefficient? Would you need the sticker if all 24 were sharpened - I mean, it's pretty obvious that 4 are, and I understand your need to point it out to sell more packs of pencils, but it seems that having all 24 pencils sharpened might make the relative sharpened status of the pencils very obvious, and the sticker would be rendered moot. Is there some kind of under the table collusion with the silver sticker manufacturers happening here? Penultimately, can you imagine the corporate meetings that went into confirming the decision to include this sticker? "This pack of pencils is just missing something; something that screams "buy me." Have we ever tried sharpening the pencils ahead of time - you know, pre-sharpening the pencils?" Next meeting: "Ooh! Nice font! I like what you've done with the purple and the silver, but is there anyway we can get a colon in there? And I really don't like odd numbers; can we change that three to a four?" And finally, picture the poor enslaved Polynesian worker who knows just enough English to realize how ridiculous these 100,000 sticker she has to affix are - he has to constantly fight off the temptation to take a pre-sharpened pencil and pre-jab it into his pre-frontal cortex to relieve his pre-suffering.
Ah, the whole thing leaves me Nyetplexed:
Natch, I will now put that sticker somewhere clever and make smug sarcastic quips about it on a day to day basis.
Oh, this just in - the Beck and I have decided to forego wedding pics, and will instead go with these:
Those were drawn by amazing Walnut Hill artist Jean Kim as an engagement gift - you can see the full deal by clicking on either of our glorious mugs.
Relatively low-key weekend here - Ali Van Hoff and Dave stopped by on Saturday for their semi-annual dog food retrieval, so both Beck and I AND S & W were very psyched to see them. Watched some of the World Cup on parts of Saturday and Sunday, caught the first period of game 3 of the hapless Stanley Cup Finals (some of the most exhilarating hockey I've seen in some time) and watched some rather inept basketball from both sides, but more from the Miami Heat on Sunday night. Practiced guitar a fair amount all weekend and took a truckload of pictures on Sunday, hopefully some of which will make the new arsenal page look sweet. Now, if only I could play just as sweet...
As long as I'm up and writing, some quick hits... I don't think I caught this, but at some point sportscasters decided they were broadcasting to the LCD... it should be obvious why a sport like soccer, an epic battle revolving around a war of attrition designed to gain the slightest advantage for just a chance at truly rare treasures (goals), has trouble catching on with the ADHD pleasure-now principles in America. Not to say that no one in America loves soccer - people here read Pynchon on occasion, too - but such clean, obvious metaphors like Hockey and Soccer in America don't come along every day... Kerry Wood. Kerry Wood. His name is Kerry Wood. He does not play golf, and nothing belongs to him. Kerry Wood... I was told by Corrine that her husband thought I "seemed like a nice, smart sports guy - like I probably watch football and such." I don't know what that means... Speaking of the 'Nut:
From left to right, back row, that's Maria, Alanna, Jaime, Cerissa, Alden, Sae Seul, Hyun Ji, Kenny, & Rita, and the front two are Emily and Kathi. Jeanne and Marc couldn't make the picture day, I'll get them at some other point.
Week off until summer camp kicks up at the Nut - I'll do my best to be productive...
And if I'm not, I've always got this minor bit of nightmarish inspiration:
New Dog Tail - The State of Dog
New Art Gallery
Beck's Art Gallery
THE ARSENAL!!!
...Starts to Cycling, and I'm filled with 2 Pis - could it be a trig function in me, or is this the way my personality's supposed to be???
Love having my personality, relative lack of happiness and thoughts reduced to trivial one-liners, gentle readers. How apt. Well, chew on this negative one:
This little sticker was affixed to a pack of 24 wooden old skool pencils I bought earlier this semester. Serves nicely as a little corporate decal of the apocalypse, methinks - like a dentist's office treasure chest of inane questions. Why the colon after "includes?" What makes these particular pencils "pre-sharpened" as opposed to just "sharpened?" I mean, I understand the notion of a "pre-approved loan" - approved before you even meet me - but was there any chance I wasn't going to qualify for pencil sharpening, that you're going out on a limb for me here? And what's with sharpening my pencils for me anyways? Is this a major effort-saving selling point, like I'm comparison shopping pencil packs and the 15 seconds you saved me is the deal clencher? And if so, once you make the purple print on shiny silver sticker step, why not throw a guy some exclamation points - are you implying that the inclusion of pre-sharpened pencils is some run of the mill every day event? Maybe my biggest qualm with this entire experience - why stop at 4? Aren't you just opening the door for your competitors to offer 6 of 24 sharpened pencils? Is there some kind of pencil shaving cartel out there? For sake's sake, why not sharpen all 24? Would that make this whole endeavor cost-inefficient? Would you need the sticker if all 24 were sharpened - I mean, it's pretty obvious that 4 are, and I understand your need to point it out to sell more packs of pencils, but it seems that having all 24 pencils sharpened might make the relative sharpened status of the pencils very obvious, and the sticker would be rendered moot. Is there some kind of under the table collusion with the silver sticker manufacturers happening here? Penultimately, can you imagine the corporate meetings that went into confirming the decision to include this sticker? "This pack of pencils is just missing something; something that screams "buy me." Have we ever tried sharpening the pencils ahead of time - you know, pre-sharpening the pencils?" Next meeting: "Ooh! Nice font! I like what you've done with the purple and the silver, but is there anyway we can get a colon in there? And I really don't like odd numbers; can we change that three to a four?" And finally, picture the poor enslaved Polynesian worker who knows just enough English to realize how ridiculous these 100,000 sticker she has to affix are - he has to constantly fight off the temptation to take a pre-sharpened pencil and pre-jab it into his pre-frontal cortex to relieve his pre-suffering.
Ah, the whole thing leaves me Nyetplexed:
Natch, I will now put that sticker somewhere clever and make smug sarcastic quips about it on a day to day basis.
Oh, this just in - the Beck and I have decided to forego wedding pics, and will instead go with these:
Those were drawn by amazing Walnut Hill artist Jean Kim as an engagement gift - you can see the full deal by clicking on either of our glorious mugs.
Relatively low-key weekend here - Ali Van Hoff and Dave stopped by on Saturday for their semi-annual dog food retrieval, so both Beck and I AND S & W were very psyched to see them. Watched some of the World Cup on parts of Saturday and Sunday, caught the first period of game 3 of the hapless Stanley Cup Finals (some of the most exhilarating hockey I've seen in some time) and watched some rather inept basketball from both sides, but more from the Miami Heat on Sunday night. Practiced guitar a fair amount all weekend and took a truckload of pictures on Sunday, hopefully some of which will make the new arsenal page look sweet. Now, if only I could play just as sweet...
As long as I'm up and writing, some quick hits... I don't think I caught this, but at some point sportscasters decided they were broadcasting to the LCD... it should be obvious why a sport like soccer, an epic battle revolving around a war of attrition designed to gain the slightest advantage for just a chance at truly rare treasures (goals), has trouble catching on with the ADHD pleasure-now principles in America. Not to say that no one in America loves soccer - people here read Pynchon on occasion, too - but such clean, obvious metaphors like Hockey and Soccer in America don't come along every day... Kerry Wood. Kerry Wood. His name is Kerry Wood. He does not play golf, and nothing belongs to him. Kerry Wood... I was told by Corrine that her husband thought I "seemed like a nice, smart sports guy - like I probably watch football and such." I don't know what that means... Speaking of the 'Nut:
From left to right, back row, that's Maria, Alanna, Jaime, Cerissa, Alden, Sae Seul, Hyun Ji, Kenny, & Rita, and the front two are Emily and Kathi. Jeanne and Marc couldn't make the picture day, I'll get them at some other point.
Week off until summer camp kicks up at the Nut - I'll do my best to be productive...
And if I'm not, I've always got this minor bit of nightmarish inspiration:
Thursday, June 8, 2006
Commencement Addressed
Site or Gossip? Nope
Graduation Day!!! Wait, hold on... graduation day. That's more like it. Those of you who know me (both of you) know that I am not so much a fan of pomp & circumstance. So dressing us in slacks, tie and collar, and then topping that with regalia - albeit Rice-coloured regalia, nice touch Wal-masters - was not my cup of tea. Sprinkly in, or maybe downpour in the rain that accompanied our trek down the hill, and you've got a solid recipe for a miserable morning. But I wasn't about to let that happen. Fun times, much in the face of the neurotically destroyed peeps-in-charge. Admittedly, I had little to no responsibility, and as such could easily afford to be non-stressed by the prospect of whatever insane disaster they were envisioning, but damn, come on - I'd put their intensity somewhere between military commander and crack-addled Godzilla looking for a fix. Anyways, everything was pulled off in the mechanics of the ceremony, and save a near mishap with the diplomas themselves, everything went off without a hitch - Ellie and I even managed to walk in straight lines and not take the wrong entrance, maintain our right / left relativity - this was apparently a problem last year. Hooray for the new blood.
So the ceremony itself - nice aesthetics, all the grads in maroon, all the faculty in staff in black gowns and hoods featuring their college colors. The lame-asses among us with only BA's did not get to wear pointy sleeves. The non graduating class members were all decked out in white - a solidly beautiful aesthetic decision, if a dramatically poor practical one, given the whiteness, the rain, and the 14-18 year old femaleness of the bulk of the Walnut Hill student body. Somehow they pulled it off without too much scandal, and to be perfectly honest, the whole spectacle was beautiful - gents in dapper whites, beauts in summer dresses - just a great overall visual vibe.
The ceremony began with a couple of beautiful chorale pieces and a utterly idiotic rendition of the school song, complete with "stomping" in the middle to show that, I don't know, maybe to show that they were youthful and full of spit and vinegar. Ha, ha, spit. A student, elected by her peers I think, gave an outstanding opening speech on the responsibility of the artist as marker of history. I would really like to get a transcript of her speech; it involved a myth of Orpheus the guitar player and the fact that he had to play so that the sun could rise, and how the artist had to act in faith that this myth was true regardless of its implausibility. I will reserve further comment until I get a copy - I thought it may have given too much to the practical job of the artist, and it was trapped in a fair amount of goofy-ass imagistic writing, things like "the giants who smash glass with footsteps creating cracks that let light seep through." Still, I'm devolving into my usual bitchy and critical for no reason self - it was a spectacular graduation speech. This was followed by a 14 or 15 person string section piece which was just awesome - with all the guitar sounds I've been paying attention to of late, I really appreciated those super-resonant basses, cellos and violins on a new level. Great to hear it up-close and in such a small space. Really just stunning.
And... yeah, Took a nasty nosedive from that point on. Horrible "this is what happened on June 8th" speech from a member of the Board of Trustees, followed by the ever-long and ever-painful reading of names / giving of diplomas, and then a colossally moronic "Charge" by (name removed for job security purposes) that was all about SAILING. And it had some bizarre thing going on about 5 words and related words and their strict definitions - it was like someone put the Commencement Speech Writing For Dummies book in a bass-o-matic and hit puree. Yikes. This calamity eventually came to a close, and we were free to exit, head back up the hill, and have lunch.
The lunch scene - craziness. Parents, pictures, gifts (bribes?) from students and parents to teachers, students giving gigantic hugs to all of their students. I got a boatload of nothing - no biggie - but then Alanna found me right before I left and had Miss Murphy take some pictures of us. Very sweet, a good goodbye and end to the day. So I left on a high note. Even saw Kenny on the way out the door and he was excited about summer and next year and taking biology with me. SO that was cool as well. Nice end to the day.
I really say "nice end" because it was largely drenched in badness. This whole inanity over what really amounts to a very simple request for some info via e-mail - it spread like wildfire, and I have the full support of multiple teachers who made a point of talking to me today. But the whole thing, combined with downpour, just put a sour film and tinge on everything. I think i betrayed my mood, too, because Anne told me twice to "hang in there." Seriously seriously, it has less to do with the actual facts of the case and more the principles behind it - that for the umpteenth time, people just let me down on a very fundamental level. This mature world, where people can get over themselves for five seconds - it doesn't exist. On the one hand, I should cave and next time *actually* go ripshit on some correspondence, maybe just inject her with some relative perspective - i.e., that's what it sounds like when I'm *actually* trying to hurt your feelings - but I guess the entire weight of the struggle and value of it all rests in picking it up again and keep on keepin' on. That doesn't mean, however, that I'm not going to feel it when the world decides to rear its ridiculous head and kick me down.
Wow, that was some eight grade diary style obtuseness there. Basically, I was bummed about the entire stupidity going on, but very glad to have the backing of the reasonable people. It may ultimately amount to nothing, but... well, whatever. If they want to meet, great, if not, they're idiots, and I'm hasta la pasta in a year or so anyways, so the ship can sink as it will. And they can continue to have graduations which fail to mention academics even in passing and then pat themselves on the back on what a wonderful institution it is. WTFEver, dude.
The afternoon (which started late, I had to clean up the office and then stop by to discuss summer work with Charlie and then get my health benefit jazz figured out...) I got some coffee, listened to some Robert Solomon 'No Excuses," and all in all had a nice time. I picked up Beck at 5, then we came home, and I've played some guitar and watched Dallas take game one. Oh yeah, and I put together the U.S. versions of Beatles albums on iTunes - and it's (rather stupid of me, methinks) like having brand new albums. Anyways, it's nice every once in while to contemplate just how ludicrous it is to claim that the Beatles were not the best band... EVER.
Don't touch that dial - lest you break the "Ne'er turn JPGR off the Radio" rule - we'll have more and VERY EXCITING stuff this weekend. The summer of Nyet is t-minus 11 hours to being in session.
Graduation Day!!! Wait, hold on... graduation day. That's more like it. Those of you who know me (both of you) know that I am not so much a fan of pomp & circumstance. So dressing us in slacks, tie and collar, and then topping that with regalia - albeit Rice-coloured regalia, nice touch Wal-masters - was not my cup of tea. Sprinkly in, or maybe downpour in the rain that accompanied our trek down the hill, and you've got a solid recipe for a miserable morning. But I wasn't about to let that happen. Fun times, much in the face of the neurotically destroyed peeps-in-charge. Admittedly, I had little to no responsibility, and as such could easily afford to be non-stressed by the prospect of whatever insane disaster they were envisioning, but damn, come on - I'd put their intensity somewhere between military commander and crack-addled Godzilla looking for a fix. Anyways, everything was pulled off in the mechanics of the ceremony, and save a near mishap with the diplomas themselves, everything went off without a hitch - Ellie and I even managed to walk in straight lines and not take the wrong entrance, maintain our right / left relativity - this was apparently a problem last year. Hooray for the new blood.
So the ceremony itself - nice aesthetics, all the grads in maroon, all the faculty in staff in black gowns and hoods featuring their college colors. The lame-asses among us with only BA's did not get to wear pointy sleeves. The non graduating class members were all decked out in white - a solidly beautiful aesthetic decision, if a dramatically poor practical one, given the whiteness, the rain, and the 14-18 year old femaleness of the bulk of the Walnut Hill student body. Somehow they pulled it off without too much scandal, and to be perfectly honest, the whole spectacle was beautiful - gents in dapper whites, beauts in summer dresses - just a great overall visual vibe.
The ceremony began with a couple of beautiful chorale pieces and a utterly idiotic rendition of the school song, complete with "stomping" in the middle to show that, I don't know, maybe to show that they were youthful and full of spit and vinegar. Ha, ha, spit. A student, elected by her peers I think, gave an outstanding opening speech on the responsibility of the artist as marker of history. I would really like to get a transcript of her speech; it involved a myth of Orpheus the guitar player and the fact that he had to play so that the sun could rise, and how the artist had to act in faith that this myth was true regardless of its implausibility. I will reserve further comment until I get a copy - I thought it may have given too much to the practical job of the artist, and it was trapped in a fair amount of goofy-ass imagistic writing, things like "the giants who smash glass with footsteps creating cracks that let light seep through." Still, I'm devolving into my usual bitchy and critical for no reason self - it was a spectacular graduation speech. This was followed by a 14 or 15 person string section piece which was just awesome - with all the guitar sounds I've been paying attention to of late, I really appreciated those super-resonant basses, cellos and violins on a new level. Great to hear it up-close and in such a small space. Really just stunning.
And... yeah, Took a nasty nosedive from that point on. Horrible "this is what happened on June 8th" speech from a member of the Board of Trustees, followed by the ever-long and ever-painful reading of names / giving of diplomas, and then a colossally moronic "Charge" by (name removed for job security purposes) that was all about SAILING. And it had some bizarre thing going on about 5 words and related words and their strict definitions - it was like someone put the Commencement Speech Writing For Dummies book in a bass-o-matic and hit puree. Yikes. This calamity eventually came to a close, and we were free to exit, head back up the hill, and have lunch.
The lunch scene - craziness. Parents, pictures, gifts (bribes?) from students and parents to teachers, students giving gigantic hugs to all of their students. I got a boatload of nothing - no biggie - but then Alanna found me right before I left and had Miss Murphy take some pictures of us. Very sweet, a good goodbye and end to the day. So I left on a high note. Even saw Kenny on the way out the door and he was excited about summer and next year and taking biology with me. SO that was cool as well. Nice end to the day.
I really say "nice end" because it was largely drenched in badness. This whole inanity over what really amounts to a very simple request for some info via e-mail - it spread like wildfire, and I have the full support of multiple teachers who made a point of talking to me today. But the whole thing, combined with downpour, just put a sour film and tinge on everything. I think i betrayed my mood, too, because Anne told me twice to "hang in there." Seriously seriously, it has less to do with the actual facts of the case and more the principles behind it - that for the umpteenth time, people just let me down on a very fundamental level. This mature world, where people can get over themselves for five seconds - it doesn't exist. On the one hand, I should cave and next time *actually* go ripshit on some correspondence, maybe just inject her with some relative perspective - i.e., that's what it sounds like when I'm *actually* trying to hurt your feelings - but I guess the entire weight of the struggle and value of it all rests in picking it up again and keep on keepin' on. That doesn't mean, however, that I'm not going to feel it when the world decides to rear its ridiculous head and kick me down.
Wow, that was some eight grade diary style obtuseness there. Basically, I was bummed about the entire stupidity going on, but very glad to have the backing of the reasonable people. It may ultimately amount to nothing, but... well, whatever. If they want to meet, great, if not, they're idiots, and I'm hasta la pasta in a year or so anyways, so the ship can sink as it will. And they can continue to have graduations which fail to mention academics even in passing and then pat themselves on the back on what a wonderful institution it is. WTFEver, dude.
The afternoon (which started late, I had to clean up the office and then stop by to discuss summer work with Charlie and then get my health benefit jazz figured out...) I got some coffee, listened to some Robert Solomon 'No Excuses," and all in all had a nice time. I picked up Beck at 5, then we came home, and I've played some guitar and watched Dallas take game one. Oh yeah, and I put together the U.S. versions of Beatles albums on iTunes - and it's (rather stupid of me, methinks) like having brand new albums. Anyways, it's nice every once in while to contemplate just how ludicrous it is to claim that the Beatles were not the best band... EVER.
Don't touch that dial - lest you break the "Ne'er turn JPGR off the Radio" rule - we'll have more and VERY EXCITING stuff this weekend. The summer of Nyet is t-minus 11 hours to being in session.
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
It's like November 2nd, Kinda...
Site or Gossip?
Excess News Pages Eliminated
Written Docs changed to PDF's
Linklist New & Improved
Amidst the Copious Radio Plays of Van Halen's "Runnin' With the Devil," Mom's XXth Bday Was Yesterday
Not a lot going on - school ended with a ferocious whimper yesterday, and while I think we hit our peak of fun a few weeks ago, it was good to see the students one last time and wish them a good summer. Win's class was fun - I hung around a bit and said adios to those guys. Lunch with Kate in the afternoon at Blue Ribbon BBQ (good times), and then I went to pick up my acoustic guitar... and it was not ready. Boo-urns. I did sit down and play every acoustic they had in the shop, and have decided that the next thing I get in the music field, aeons from now, is going to be a nice Martin, Taylor or Tacoma or something in that vein. Dreadnaught body, satin finish (or whatever the keyword for "no laquer" is), thin but not electric guitar thin neck (and not deep, either), deep, bassy, resonant sound... I think I'm turning into one of those dudes who likes to sit around and talk about cars. Yikes. Anyways, I did pick up my acoustic today, but that is a story for a post that is a long time in the writing. Stay... tuned. Ha. I also played a couple of different acoustic 12 strings - and hot damn, it's just gorgeous. I figure there's gotta be away to simulate that doubling 8va up relatively easy on the effects processor or the computer. We'll see.
Oh, and picking up cars - I made a last run by of the Jeep to get everything that's mine out of it. The mechanic agreed to junk it for me because he needed some of the parts himself, so he gave me some dough and did not charge me for the towing. Nice dudes (who like to sit around and talk about cars) over at the auto shop.
Stuck a big knife in the collective side of the status quo over at Walnut on Monday just by e-mailing the person in charge of attendance a detailed account of some problems I was having with a couple of students. I did so, in all brutal honesty, very, very diplomatically and did not intend to make her feel bad or attack her at all, but natch, she has gone code red, and we are having "important meetings" and "discussions." This makes me non-plussed with human beings right now. This should blow over, and on top of all of this, I really don't care - but now, meetings. I abhor this type of thing; that is all.
Bedtime. Too tired to type. Hopefully I will remember to put together something more coherent tomorrow.
Excess News Pages Eliminated
Written Docs changed to PDF's
Linklist New & Improved
Amidst the Copious Radio Plays of Van Halen's "Runnin' With the Devil," Mom's XXth Bday Was Yesterday
Not a lot going on - school ended with a ferocious whimper yesterday, and while I think we hit our peak of fun a few weeks ago, it was good to see the students one last time and wish them a good summer. Win's class was fun - I hung around a bit and said adios to those guys. Lunch with Kate in the afternoon at Blue Ribbon BBQ (good times), and then I went to pick up my acoustic guitar... and it was not ready. Boo-urns. I did sit down and play every acoustic they had in the shop, and have decided that the next thing I get in the music field, aeons from now, is going to be a nice Martin, Taylor or Tacoma or something in that vein. Dreadnaught body, satin finish (or whatever the keyword for "no laquer" is), thin but not electric guitar thin neck (and not deep, either), deep, bassy, resonant sound... I think I'm turning into one of those dudes who likes to sit around and talk about cars. Yikes. Anyways, I did pick up my acoustic today, but that is a story for a post that is a long time in the writing. Stay... tuned. Ha. I also played a couple of different acoustic 12 strings - and hot damn, it's just gorgeous. I figure there's gotta be away to simulate that doubling 8va up relatively easy on the effects processor or the computer. We'll see.
Oh, and picking up cars - I made a last run by of the Jeep to get everything that's mine out of it. The mechanic agreed to junk it for me because he needed some of the parts himself, so he gave me some dough and did not charge me for the towing. Nice dudes (who like to sit around and talk about cars) over at the auto shop.
Stuck a big knife in the collective side of the status quo over at Walnut on Monday just by e-mailing the person in charge of attendance a detailed account of some problems I was having with a couple of students. I did so, in all brutal honesty, very, very diplomatically and did not intend to make her feel bad or attack her at all, but natch, she has gone code red, and we are having "important meetings" and "discussions." This makes me non-plussed with human beings right now. This should blow over, and on top of all of this, I really don't care - but now, meetings. I abhor this type of thing; that is all.
Bedtime. Too tired to type. Hopefully I will remember to put together something more coherent tomorrow.
Monday, June 5, 2006
Sam Cooke says...
Come gather 'round people wherever you roam...
Expect some deltas on ye olde Nyet Jones site in the not too distant future. Nothing drastic; it just seems that certain things (site updates, gossipy news, etc.) are more of a pain to keep track of than anything else. It'll be much easier to keep track of things in one place, so I'll put any new developments, announcements, gossip, etc., in a section at the top of ye olde blog. Concise, streamlined, a veritable Walmart of the internyet. In the meantime, this is pretty much the only other news entry that needs to be salvaged:
March 15, 2006 - My brother, the 10,000 foot idiot
Also - Beck pointed out that there's no convenient way to bounce between a blog entry and the blog list. I fixed that - you can now click up on the right-hand corner button and that will take you back to the list of bloggity entries. Go ahead, try it. Tres exciting, eh? Just think how much time I saved you - all those hours wasted pressing Alt & arrows. Ne'er again! Good Day to you sir. I said... Good Day.
I'll join the masses calling them out - RHCP, you make me laugh. The Californicators recently released an album and went, pardon the French, apeshit when they found out it had been leaked on the internet like, oh, every other album. I mean, press releases, news conferences, you name it, on how these pirates were really crimping their Bacardi-sippin' lifestyles. Not to say that online piracy is okay (it's not, I mean especially when you use, say, international war crimes as a barometer), but it really was an over-the-top diatribe aimed at the leaker in support of "Flea"'s intellectual property. Did I say Flea? I meant Tom Petty. Yep, Tom Petty got his Chiffon on, and Flea and Keidis and whoswhat had the GALL to get their Harrison on. It just makes it all sad, ya know? The only appropriate response from Petty, outside of suing their butts off, is to tell them to go stuff it. In a sock.
School days winding down - goodness. Should have lunch with the Kate tomorrow. I should also mention that I've been seriously enjoying Robert Solomon's No Excuses lecture series on Existentialism that Scott and Margie gave me; awesome stuff. So far only covered Camus in detail, and conveniently enough I've read The Stranger, The Plague, The Fall, The The (just kidding), and The Myth of Sysiphus, so i am 100% on board. Every morning drive in has been an Existentialism lecture followed by some raging, crisp punk music, usually Patti Smith or the like. Then I engage in the futile exercise of attempting to educate. Kinda brutally appropriate, actually.
Okay, also picking up the acoustic tomorrow which had a tuneup over the weekend - for the technically inclined, the action was ridiculously high, so something had to be done. I should now improve 1000% overnight. Good God Y'all.
Which reminds me - today in class, we played a game where I needed a disincentive to keep them from shouting out randomly. So i said they had to dance for everyone if they missed the answer, and one of my ever-serious ESL students looked at me sternly and said, "I would rather do homework than dance." Um. Yeah, I had pretty much guessed that already...
Post notes: I took Bethany, my awesome Calculus student, out for breakfast at Dunkin Donuts this morning for our last class. We talked about fuzzy logic and music and ethics and all sorts of stuff over dunkaccinos and coffee rolls. She is 100% completely awesome - just a great blend of enthusiasm and cynicism, studiousness and lust for life. And man, does she ever light up when she starts talking about her music - she's an incredible piano player, and she just emanates a vibe of someone who practices enough to burn themselves out ten times over but keeps coming back with fervor..Anyways, just wanted to give her a big shout-out; you gotta keep people like her in mind because...
Hot damn. I just read my student class evaluations - and while for the most part they're okay, just three or four of them were... fuhgeddaboutit. Don't ever go into teaching if you want to be appreciated to any degree. I would like to embrace that fact right now - I damn well know that they couldn't care less about me or anything I do for them. And that's just the way it is, and that's perfectly okay, and the only nobility is to keep giving them my all with no hope of anything in return. Doesn't entirely make the process pleasant. But them's the breaks. And how's this - after taking that BS from them, I'll still give them some end of the year pizza. Because hey, why not.
Expect some deltas on ye olde Nyet Jones site in the not too distant future. Nothing drastic; it just seems that certain things (site updates, gossipy news, etc.) are more of a pain to keep track of than anything else. It'll be much easier to keep track of things in one place, so I'll put any new developments, announcements, gossip, etc., in a section at the top of ye olde blog. Concise, streamlined, a veritable Walmart of the internyet. In the meantime, this is pretty much the only other news entry that needs to be salvaged:
March 15, 2006 - My brother, the 10,000 foot idiot
Also - Beck pointed out that there's no convenient way to bounce between a blog entry and the blog list. I fixed that - you can now click up on the right-hand corner button and that will take you back to the list of bloggity entries. Go ahead, try it. Tres exciting, eh? Just think how much time I saved you - all those hours wasted pressing Alt & arrows. Ne'er again! Good Day to you sir. I said... Good Day.
I'll join the masses calling them out - RHCP, you make me laugh. The Californicators recently released an album and went, pardon the French, apeshit when they found out it had been leaked on the internet like, oh, every other album. I mean, press releases, news conferences, you name it, on how these pirates were really crimping their Bacardi-sippin' lifestyles. Not to say that online piracy is okay (it's not, I mean especially when you use, say, international war crimes as a barometer), but it really was an over-the-top diatribe aimed at the leaker in support of "Flea"'s intellectual property. Did I say Flea? I meant Tom Petty. Yep, Tom Petty got his Chiffon on, and Flea and Keidis and whoswhat had the GALL to get their Harrison on. It just makes it all sad, ya know? The only appropriate response from Petty, outside of suing their butts off, is to tell them to go stuff it. In a sock.
School days winding down - goodness. Should have lunch with the Kate tomorrow. I should also mention that I've been seriously enjoying Robert Solomon's No Excuses lecture series on Existentialism that Scott and Margie gave me; awesome stuff. So far only covered Camus in detail, and conveniently enough I've read The Stranger, The Plague, The Fall, The The (just kidding), and The Myth of Sysiphus, so i am 100% on board. Every morning drive in has been an Existentialism lecture followed by some raging, crisp punk music, usually Patti Smith or the like. Then I engage in the futile exercise of attempting to educate. Kinda brutally appropriate, actually.
Okay, also picking up the acoustic tomorrow which had a tuneup over the weekend - for the technically inclined, the action was ridiculously high, so something had to be done. I should now improve 1000% overnight. Good God Y'all.
Which reminds me - today in class, we played a game where I needed a disincentive to keep them from shouting out randomly. So i said they had to dance for everyone if they missed the answer, and one of my ever-serious ESL students looked at me sternly and said, "I would rather do homework than dance." Um. Yeah, I had pretty much guessed that already...
Post notes: I took Bethany, my awesome Calculus student, out for breakfast at Dunkin Donuts this morning for our last class. We talked about fuzzy logic and music and ethics and all sorts of stuff over dunkaccinos and coffee rolls. She is 100% completely awesome - just a great blend of enthusiasm and cynicism, studiousness and lust for life. And man, does she ever light up when she starts talking about her music - she's an incredible piano player, and she just emanates a vibe of someone who practices enough to burn themselves out ten times over but keeps coming back with fervor..Anyways, just wanted to give her a big shout-out; you gotta keep people like her in mind because...
Hot damn. I just read my student class evaluations - and while for the most part they're okay, just three or four of them were... fuhgeddaboutit. Don't ever go into teaching if you want to be appreciated to any degree. I would like to embrace that fact right now - I damn well know that they couldn't care less about me or anything I do for them. And that's just the way it is, and that's perfectly okay, and the only nobility is to keep giving them my all with no hope of anything in return. Doesn't entirely make the process pleasant. But them's the breaks. And how's this - after taking that BS from them, I'll still give them some end of the year pizza. Because hey, why not.
Sunday, June 4, 2006
Mixed Bag Easterns
When you blog it up every fourth day, your memory may escape you. So it goes. So I've taken a liking to this reverse order schtick; reverse skate, without Whitney Houston or the feeble attempts at hand-holding. Keri Mendoza, thou werst a hottie. In the stick-figure, string bean, jumper wearing sense. I shook when I asked you to go with me. You dumped me three days later, during history. Sigh.
This weekend featured a whole lot of water-logged, cold, craptastic Ultimate with the fine former Tufts folk who have currently assembled to form Pork Chop, a team which narrowly escaped being named B*tch Please, Junk n' Juggs (and apparent homage to the fabulous co-ed team name "Holes & Poles") or Heebs, which, despite our high Jewish content and the consequent implicit irony contained in such a blatantly racist team name, was wisely voted down. Anyhoo, PC took the field on Saturday and ran over our first two opponents with ease, then disgraced the game of Ultimate in our third game, then won our fourth in ridiculous downpour which negated all viable forehands. This earned us an 8:30 on start on Sunday which just... can we forget Sunday ever happened? Bad, bad badness. Lost to the Brown alums 15-5 (many of the same crew we smoked in 2002), and then played another godawful one against some relatively nice dudes and dudettes from Canada. SO, a bit of a letdown, and it looks like we won't be invited to the B.I.T. We will, I anticipate, survive.
On a side note - trying to keep myself culpable for my poor onfield behavior. I'm making an effort at not talking or only issuing compliments, but I continue to fail on a regular basis. Fortunately, my knees are decaying at a sufficient rate such that my Ultimate career will probably end before I actually do something that gets me shot. One can hope, anyways. Without further ado, my crimes:
1 - Skyed the crap out of short guy and ended up landing on his shoulders - HOLLA! - but didn't really seem too apologetic after I rode him to the ground. I should've apologized, even though he undercut me a bit.
2 - Yelled at a pony-tailed hippie dork who was griping about a call Verbs had made - and hippie head was arguing about this call from, oh, 60 yards away. I learned a couple things, though - I tend to get extra aggro when I perceive that people are attacking my teammates, especially friends, and especially Verbal. I also learned that it does not help to insult an opponent's comebacks, even if my comments do make one of his teammates laugh. Speaking of, the guy who looked, or was at least dressed, like John Travolta from Staying Alive, was a great guy - good player, we had some bumps and fouls here and there and never argued, just foul/contest or what have you and let it go. You see, hippie, it ain't that hard! He was, incidentally, the guy who laughed when the hippie responded to me (I had said, "dude, just shut up, you can't make a call from 60 yards away, and hippie says, "no man, you're the one who should shut up," so I replied with "With rhetoric like that, who needs haircuts?").
3 - Dude in our fourth game on Saturday kept staring at people's feet and calling traveling, something that's mildly annoying in normal conditions, MAJORly annoying when it 45 degrees and raining out: not only was he missing the fact that people might slide a little more than usual on a wet field, he was prolonging the game and making us stand in the RAIN longer. ARGH. So he was marking me, staring at my feet, so I kept my pivot foot perfectly stationary and broke him for a score. Not enough - said, "You know, it's pretty pansy-ass defense to sit there and watch my feet," and he gave a wtf, i just play by the rules, so i gave him a well your pathetic mark just got broken for a score, geek. Not appreciated by him or anyone else. Oh, well.
4 - Same game - faked forehand, dude bit, went for the wraparound backhand, he jumped over, clocked him very hard in the face with my follow through. He screams foul. I contest, pointing out that he was moving when we made contact, by definition, actually, a foul on the mark, not that i was calling a foul, just saying that I was sorry for hitting him, but nothing really wrong had taken place. He goes ballistic with some FU's in my face and such. His teammate calms him down.
5 - This morning - some really, really extra cranky girl (already noted as "cranky" by Tali, who is nicer than nice and for her to call someone cranky carries a lot more weight than say, me calling someone cranky). I was in the cup, she was handling - she threw, I bid, *brushed* her arm, she yells at me. "Do everyone a favor and try being pleasant for once," I replied. Not nice. Not effective.
So there you have it. Not great, but not terrible. I also had two major league collisions, one where a girl laid out into my arm - she got the D, but got clotheslined in the process - and another where a girl tried to run through me for a D as I caught it for a score, and as I said at the time, "We collided, I am larger, the laws of physics were successfully observed." She knocked the wind out of herself. Oh, well.
That pretty much accounts for the weekend. I kinda played poorly what with the wet disc and such. Darn.
Friday in reverse - Beck and I watched Chris Rock. Chicken, Pasta and Broc for dinner. Had a guitar lesson. Took my acoustic in for a tune-up. Played frisbee golf with some Walnuts. Went out for lunch with Corrin and Jarod to the Calif Pizza kitchen.Gave a trig test. Wrote a trig test. Drove to school. Blech.
Thursday - End of the Year Art Show. Very cool, you can catch some pics here (pword is "arted"). Talked with some parents, some students, had an altogether great time. Skipped a roid game to attend, but lightning cancelled that thing anyways. Nice. Nothing much else there...
So yeah, week in review. There ya have it. With full confessional. Blearch.
This weekend featured a whole lot of water-logged, cold, craptastic Ultimate with the fine former Tufts folk who have currently assembled to form Pork Chop, a team which narrowly escaped being named B*tch Please, Junk n' Juggs (and apparent homage to the fabulous co-ed team name "Holes & Poles") or Heebs, which, despite our high Jewish content and the consequent implicit irony contained in such a blatantly racist team name, was wisely voted down. Anyhoo, PC took the field on Saturday and ran over our first two opponents with ease, then disgraced the game of Ultimate in our third game, then won our fourth in ridiculous downpour which negated all viable forehands. This earned us an 8:30 on start on Sunday which just... can we forget Sunday ever happened? Bad, bad badness. Lost to the Brown alums 15-5 (many of the same crew we smoked in 2002), and then played another godawful one against some relatively nice dudes and dudettes from Canada. SO, a bit of a letdown, and it looks like we won't be invited to the B.I.T. We will, I anticipate, survive.
On a side note - trying to keep myself culpable for my poor onfield behavior. I'm making an effort at not talking or only issuing compliments, but I continue to fail on a regular basis. Fortunately, my knees are decaying at a sufficient rate such that my Ultimate career will probably end before I actually do something that gets me shot. One can hope, anyways. Without further ado, my crimes:
1 - Skyed the crap out of short guy and ended up landing on his shoulders - HOLLA! - but didn't really seem too apologetic after I rode him to the ground. I should've apologized, even though he undercut me a bit.
2 - Yelled at a pony-tailed hippie dork who was griping about a call Verbs had made - and hippie head was arguing about this call from, oh, 60 yards away. I learned a couple things, though - I tend to get extra aggro when I perceive that people are attacking my teammates, especially friends, and especially Verbal. I also learned that it does not help to insult an opponent's comebacks, even if my comments do make one of his teammates laugh. Speaking of, the guy who looked, or was at least dressed, like John Travolta from Staying Alive, was a great guy - good player, we had some bumps and fouls here and there and never argued, just foul/contest or what have you and let it go. You see, hippie, it ain't that hard! He was, incidentally, the guy who laughed when the hippie responded to me (I had said, "dude, just shut up, you can't make a call from 60 yards away, and hippie says, "no man, you're the one who should shut up," so I replied with "With rhetoric like that, who needs haircuts?").
3 - Dude in our fourth game on Saturday kept staring at people's feet and calling traveling, something that's mildly annoying in normal conditions, MAJORly annoying when it 45 degrees and raining out: not only was he missing the fact that people might slide a little more than usual on a wet field, he was prolonging the game and making us stand in the RAIN longer. ARGH. So he was marking me, staring at my feet, so I kept my pivot foot perfectly stationary and broke him for a score. Not enough - said, "You know, it's pretty pansy-ass defense to sit there and watch my feet," and he gave a wtf, i just play by the rules, so i gave him a well your pathetic mark just got broken for a score, geek. Not appreciated by him or anyone else. Oh, well.
4 - Same game - faked forehand, dude bit, went for the wraparound backhand, he jumped over, clocked him very hard in the face with my follow through. He screams foul. I contest, pointing out that he was moving when we made contact, by definition, actually, a foul on the mark, not that i was calling a foul, just saying that I was sorry for hitting him, but nothing really wrong had taken place. He goes ballistic with some FU's in my face and such. His teammate calms him down.
5 - This morning - some really, really extra cranky girl (already noted as "cranky" by Tali, who is nicer than nice and for her to call someone cranky carries a lot more weight than say, me calling someone cranky). I was in the cup, she was handling - she threw, I bid, *brushed* her arm, she yells at me. "Do everyone a favor and try being pleasant for once," I replied. Not nice. Not effective.
So there you have it. Not great, but not terrible. I also had two major league collisions, one where a girl laid out into my arm - she got the D, but got clotheslined in the process - and another where a girl tried to run through me for a D as I caught it for a score, and as I said at the time, "We collided, I am larger, the laws of physics were successfully observed." She knocked the wind out of herself. Oh, well.
That pretty much accounts for the weekend. I kinda played poorly what with the wet disc and such. Darn.
Friday in reverse - Beck and I watched Chris Rock. Chicken, Pasta and Broc for dinner. Had a guitar lesson. Took my acoustic in for a tune-up. Played frisbee golf with some Walnuts. Went out for lunch with Corrin and Jarod to the Calif Pizza kitchen.Gave a trig test. Wrote a trig test. Drove to school. Blech.
Thursday - End of the Year Art Show. Very cool, you can catch some pics here (pword is "arted"). Talked with some parents, some students, had an altogether great time. Skipped a roid game to attend, but lightning cancelled that thing anyways. Nice. Nothing much else there...
So yeah, week in review. There ya have it. With full confessional. Blearch.
Thursday, June 1, 2006
Straight Up Official Yo!!!
Uh. Uh. Good God Y'all!!!
Welcome to the new digs! Very exciting! Well, not really. But I found a nice affordable option for a classier name than webpages.charter.net/nyetjones, so I went for it. Please enjoy the lack of ads, the literally tens of saved keystrokes I just, er, saved you, and let's all thank a massively effective ad campaign that led to my hookup with a certain domain name / website host that is quite synonymous with well-endowed women, super bowl ads and, perhaps more exactly, va el papá. Hip Hip Hooray, Hooooh. The Mack Dad will make you jump jump. And such.
Good week, in quick sum - spent the entire Memorial Day weekend cleaning the apartment and rearranging the study to make a sweet recording studio for this summer; the creation of which will be documented in the "blog entry that never happened." Tuesday featured a glorious Polaroid comeback win, helped along by a scoober-happy me, Wednesday featured a dubious nickname acquisition by Ben Sprecher and an excellent meal with VB and Ali. Thursday, today, featured a long day at school, the restringing of my guitars, and a Walnut Hill Art Show, always a cool experience. I will hopefully post things soon.
Not much energy to report anything else - hopefully this weekend will feature a surge in nyetjones content to validate the expenditure. Remains to be seen.
Wooha! Enjoy it!
Welcome to the new digs! Very exciting! Well, not really. But I found a nice affordable option for a classier name than webpages.charter.net/nyetjones, so I went for it. Please enjoy the lack of ads, the literally tens of saved keystrokes I just, er, saved you, and let's all thank a massively effective ad campaign that led to my hookup with a certain domain name / website host that is quite synonymous with well-endowed women, super bowl ads and, perhaps more exactly, va el papá. Hip Hip Hooray, Hooooh. The Mack Dad will make you jump jump. And such.
Good week, in quick sum - spent the entire Memorial Day weekend cleaning the apartment and rearranging the study to make a sweet recording studio for this summer; the creation of which will be documented in the "blog entry that never happened." Tuesday featured a glorious Polaroid comeback win, helped along by a scoober-happy me, Wednesday featured a dubious nickname acquisition by Ben Sprecher and an excellent meal with VB and Ali. Thursday, today, featured a long day at school, the restringing of my guitars, and a Walnut Hill Art Show, always a cool experience. I will hopefully post things soon.
Not much energy to report anything else - hopefully this weekend will feature a surge in nyetjones content to validate the expenditure. Remains to be seen.
Wooha! Enjoy it!
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