With the academic hours long, and the days progressively shorter, I find myself on the introspective side of my general mood cycle. With the proverbial lens turned inward, several questions have surfaced for which I find myself unable to provide an effective answer. And so, I post them to all those willing to lend me their minds and hearts in assistance and able to help me overcome several philosophical hurdles that on tackled on my own, have proven onerous and emotionally draining.
http://www.zoomerang.com/Survey/?p=WEB229P2TFC6TY
Results to be posted here at a later time.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
You wouldn't bang a zombie so...
Zombies do not inspire sexual stirrings. They are rather frigid, both emotionally and physically, and their miasmatic aroma reminds me of a McDonald's dumpster in August. Furthermore, their undeadness on its own certainly drives me to abstinence, not to mention that any sexual contact will probably lead to my becoming zombified as well, and I'm pretty sure a 1000th of an inch thick piece of latex will not protect me from supernatural pathogens. That being said, why in god's name does our country seem to currently be sporting a massively triumphant boner for vampires?
My roommate sat me down the other day in front of "True Blood". Now, to get the record straight, I'm a huge fan of all supernatural, fantasy, sci-fi goodness and the vampire theme is most definitely included in things I will watch on principle. What I wasn't ready for was the egregious banging that happened within five minutes of my sitting down. We're not talking surreptitious PG-13 suggestive love making here, more so in the line of uncannily canine custom copulation, complete with Anna Paquin's (Rogue from "X-men") swinging boobs shown from all angles, plenty of mid to high volume grunting, and very little requiring imagination extrapolations.
Now call it my conservative upbringing, but vampires are not for sexing. Any sexual call one may feel towards a vampire is the vampire employing a succubus-esque power in order to engage in some serious blood/soul chugging. I understand Kate Beckensale looks great in black leather and am not advocating her donning a form hiding cape instead, but shouldn't human/vampire copulation seem intrinsically wrong to both parties? To make it worse, "Twlight" totally bastardized the vampire of any of their negative qualities leaving evampireated deer-blood drinkers that scintillate when they lie shirtless in a sun-washed meadow. The legendary duality of night and day has been replaced by soft-core porn and shiny teenage dreamboats targeted at 13 year old girls.
Don't get me wrong, I'll still gladly watch any supernatural show available but somebody most definitely needs to tell Stephanie Meyer that vampires do not play baseball. Twilight, in my humble opinion needs fewer shots of Edward Cullen's resplendent chest, and more decapitation. Is Blade doing freelance consulting work by any chance?
My roommate sat me down the other day in front of "True Blood". Now, to get the record straight, I'm a huge fan of all supernatural, fantasy, sci-fi goodness and the vampire theme is most definitely included in things I will watch on principle. What I wasn't ready for was the egregious banging that happened within five minutes of my sitting down. We're not talking surreptitious PG-13 suggestive love making here, more so in the line of uncannily canine custom copulation, complete with Anna Paquin's (Rogue from "X-men") swinging boobs shown from all angles, plenty of mid to high volume grunting, and very little requiring imagination extrapolations.
Now call it my conservative upbringing, but vampires are not for sexing. Any sexual call one may feel towards a vampire is the vampire employing a succubus-esque power in order to engage in some serious blood/soul chugging. I understand Kate Beckensale looks great in black leather and am not advocating her donning a form hiding cape instead, but shouldn't human/vampire copulation seem intrinsically wrong to both parties? To make it worse, "Twlight" totally bastardized the vampire of any of their negative qualities leaving evampireated deer-blood drinkers that scintillate when they lie shirtless in a sun-washed meadow. The legendary duality of night and day has been replaced by soft-core porn and shiny teenage dreamboats targeted at 13 year old girls.
Don't get me wrong, I'll still gladly watch any supernatural show available but somebody most definitely needs to tell Stephanie Meyer that vampires do not play baseball. Twilight, in my humble opinion needs fewer shots of Edward Cullen's resplendent chest, and more decapitation. Is Blade doing freelance consulting work by any chance?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Lollapalooza goals
Endless years of schooling have instilled me with a need to always be prepared before sitting in on any symposium. This includes foreknowledge on the presenter's topic and a basic understanding of the presenter's past work. Since most of my work seats me before a computer screen, I am free to study up a prestigious symposium I plan on attending next weekend: Lollapalooza.
As any who looks at the schedule can easily deduce, the conference is rife with a plethora of solid bands. Many of them fall into that eclectic Indy up-and-coming category, which means that prior knowledge of them is based purely on the musical diversity (and snobbery) of those you choose to surround yourself with. I've been forced to do homework on many of the 2nd tier bands playing and have discovered scintillating musical gems in the mix. These I proudly offer for your enjoyment, as well as several popular tracks I'm excited to see.
Arctic Monkeys - Dancing Shoes
Band of Horses - The Funeral
Bat for Lashes - Daniel
Cold War Kids - I've Seen Enough
Of Montreal - Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse
Rise Against - Prayer of the Refugee
Silversun Pickups - Panic Switch
Vampire Weekend - A-Punk
As any who looks at the schedule can easily deduce, the conference is rife with a plethora of solid bands. Many of them fall into that eclectic Indy up-and-coming category, which means that prior knowledge of them is based purely on the musical diversity (and snobbery) of those you choose to surround yourself with. I've been forced to do homework on many of the 2nd tier bands playing and have discovered scintillating musical gems in the mix. These I proudly offer for your enjoyment, as well as several popular tracks I'm excited to see.
Arctic Monkeys - Dancing Shoes
Band of Horses - The Funeral
Bat for Lashes - Daniel
Cold War Kids - I've Seen Enough
Of Montreal - Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse
Rise Against - Prayer of the Refugee
Silversun Pickups - Panic Switch
Vampire Weekend - A-Punk
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Call Up The OED.
Nobangtionship - [no - bang - shuhn - ship] - NOUN
A very specific relationship stalemate between two friends. One member appreciates the relationship as a close, personal, and immensely fulfilling platonic friendship, with no romantic desires of any kind. This member feels threatened whenever any potential mate approaches the other member, even going so far as to sabotage the other member's advances towards any outside party. Conversely, the other member would like nothing more than to engage in some seriously savage slamming with the first member ASAP.
"Hey girl, are you and Brett dating."
"EW no! He's like a brother and such a good listener. I feel like I can tell him anything."
"Yo Brett that girl's hot, are you banging?"
"I fucking wish dude, I'm so sick of listening to her shit with zero bang-a-rang to show for it. I'm stuck in a decidedly unbonerific nobangtionship."
Unfind - [uhn - fahynd] - VERB
The loss of an item previously procured in one's morning ritual while searching for another item.
"Sorry I'm late, I keep unfinding my keys. I had 'em but after spending 10 minutes searching for my damn laser pointer, I put my keys down in the confusion and lost 'em again. I even managed to unfind my padded helmet somewhere in the mix.
Procrasductive - [proh - kras - dukh - tiv] - NOUN
A state characterized by procrastination from what is unarguably one's highest priority by being immensely productive in other ways.
"You were being procrasductive again."
"I went grocery shopping, bought a new waterbed, read all of 'Atlas Shrugged', and taught little Jimmy how to balance his checkbook."
"You were supposed to take Muffin to the vet."
"But Muffin hates the vet, chinchillas have feelings too."
"Muffin has Ebola, we'll all be bleeding from the eyeballs by tomorrow evening."
A very specific relationship stalemate between two friends. One member appreciates the relationship as a close, personal, and immensely fulfilling platonic friendship, with no romantic desires of any kind. This member feels threatened whenever any potential mate approaches the other member, even going so far as to sabotage the other member's advances towards any outside party. Conversely, the other member would like nothing more than to engage in some seriously savage slamming with the first member ASAP.
"Hey girl, are you and Brett dating."
"EW no! He's like a brother and such a good listener. I feel like I can tell him anything."
"Yo Brett that girl's hot, are you banging?"
"I fucking wish dude, I'm so sick of listening to her shit with zero bang-a-rang to show for it. I'm stuck in a decidedly unbonerific nobangtionship."
Unfind - [uhn - fahynd] - VERB
The loss of an item previously procured in one's morning ritual while searching for another item.
"Sorry I'm late, I keep unfinding my keys. I had 'em but after spending 10 minutes searching for my damn laser pointer, I put my keys down in the confusion and lost 'em again. I even managed to unfind my padded helmet somewhere in the mix.
Procrasductive - [proh - kras - dukh - tiv] - NOUN
A state characterized by procrastination from what is unarguably one's highest priority by being immensely productive in other ways.
"You were being procrasductive again."
"I went grocery shopping, bought a new waterbed, read all of 'Atlas Shrugged', and taught little Jimmy how to balance his checkbook."
"You were supposed to take Muffin to the vet."
"But Muffin hates the vet, chinchillas have feelings too."
"Muffin has Ebola, we'll all be bleeding from the eyeballs by tomorrow evening."
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Anagram Iso Calls
The iso calls for my Sandblast team. Sponsored by the internet anagram rearrangement server.
Peter Blessington - "Boner Gel Pens Tits"
Zachary Higgs - "Gay High Czars"
William Longo - "I Mow Loin Gall"
Kevin Mabry - "My Brave Kin"
Michael Montesano - "Came Into Manholes"
Mark Rubin - "Rumba Rink"
Rafe Steinhauer - "Featherier Anus"
Zarin Stone - "Sorta In Zen"
Benjamin Sulman - "Ninja Men Albums"
Caitlin Ewing - "I Clean Wit Gin"
Mary Glickman - "Milky Man Crag"
Elizabeth Harrison - "Bizarre Loin Sheath"
Julie Reichling - "Chili Jungle Ire"
Kathryn Shephard - "Hyper Hard, Thanks"
Laura Tan - "A Natural"
Kathrine Zipp - "Phat Ink Prize"
Peter Blessington - "Boner Gel Pens Tits"
Zachary Higgs - "Gay High Czars"
William Longo - "I Mow Loin Gall"
Kevin Mabry - "My Brave Kin"
Michael Montesano - "Came Into Manholes"
Mark Rubin - "Rumba Rink"
Rafe Steinhauer - "Featherier Anus"
Zarin Stone - "Sorta In Zen"
Benjamin Sulman - "Ninja Men Albums"
Caitlin Ewing - "I Clean Wit Gin"
Mary Glickman - "Milky Man Crag"
Elizabeth Harrison - "Bizarre Loin Sheath"
Julie Reichling - "Chili Jungle Ire"
Kathryn Shephard - "Hyper Hard, Thanks"
Laura Tan - "A Natural"
Kathrine Zipp - "Phat Ink Prize"
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Ultimate Hero
In my humble experience, I have come to realize that all competitive ultimate players think of themselves as superheros. For the most part, they are gregarious, charismatic, marginally productive members of society and most important to their attitude, they take significant pride in their ultimate skills. I just spent all of last weekend out in Seattle at Potlatch, a famous 98 team tournament that culminated in Team USA defeating Team Canada to take the title. Over the weekends course I witnessed displays of athleticism that would blow the pants off of a high-level talent scout of any sport/competitive hobby.
One of the major aspects of an ultimate players athleticism so esoteric to this particular demonstration of skill, is the ability to make it through a full tournament without irreparably damaging every organ of the body while each and every muscle complains through the lactic acidosis/alco acidosis . It's one thing to play three straight days of any competitive sport and an entirely different thing to replace a hearty, glycogen-replenishing meal and a good night's sleep in between each day with brewery parties, impromptu raves, portable castle beerbongs, 3am bacon feasts (courtesy of the team "Night Bacon!"), a laundry list of debaucherous makeout
related shenanigans, and a crowded tent one may or may not return to as the sun begins to rise.
Said summer mid-tourney nights are beyond memorable, both literally and metaphorically as their Dionysian splendor, which rivaled any saturnalia penned in myths of the Greeks (sans the little boys shagging), drowned a good deal of the memories I accrued. Once the week is over, and the various teams have traveled their separate ways returning with somber melancholy to their cubicles, I certainly can't help feeling like a superbeing who, having just rescued a 747 from certain doom at the toe-talons of flying velociraptors in a most awesome display of power, dons his Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne persona.
One of the major aspects of an ultimate players athleticism so esoteric to this particular demonstration of skill, is the ability to make it through a full tournament without irreparably damaging every organ of the body while each and every muscle complains through the lactic acidosis/alco acidosis . It's one thing to play three straight days of any competitive sport and an entirely different thing to replace a hearty, glycogen-replenishing meal and a good night's sleep in between each day with brewery parties, impromptu raves, portable castle beerbongs, 3am bacon feasts (courtesy of the team "Night Bacon!"), a laundry list of debaucherous makeout
related shenanigans, and a crowded tent one may or may not return to as the sun begins to rise.
Said summer mid-tourney nights are beyond memorable, both literally and metaphorically as their Dionysian splendor, which rivaled any saturnalia penned in myths of the Greeks (sans the little boys shagging), drowned a good deal of the memories I accrued. Once the week is over, and the various teams have traveled their separate ways returning with somber melancholy to their cubicles, I certainly can't help feeling like a superbeing who, having just rescued a 747 from certain doom at the toe-talons of flying velociraptors in a most awesome display of power, dons his Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne persona.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
SFW Amersterdanian Adventures
Needless to say, the trip to Europe was tight. Rather then rehash all the absurdities that kept me awake till the wee hours of the morn and dragged me right out of bed soon after, I'll drop the occurrences one story at a time.
Location: Amsterdam, Netherlands
Obvious to all reading when considering the location of this story and my extracurricular activities, I spent all day basking in Amsterdam's rich history. Sufficiently high on culture, my brother and I walked over to a park to throw a disc for a bit. Three throws in, he sends it right into the center of this tepid and brackish pond, too still to nurture the hope of the wind taking it to shore. My brother, aware of how much this disc means to me (my world travels disc has gone with me to 13 different countries at this point) immediately disrobes to his skivvies and prepares to jump in.
A local runs up to him with a look of concern in her eye and tries to talk him out of fetching my disc with stories of broken glass, tetanus, and forearm length leaches. After about a minute of convincing my brother that he's going to die a horrifically tragic death if he jumps in, another local walks and tells us of how she went swimming in there not a week ago and that people hop in all the time. A good 15 minutes of Vacillation ensues until a third local strolls on up, clearly stoned out of his gourd, with a huge German Shepard mix. He casually picks up a stick and throws it just past the disc and to the gathered crowd's delight, the dog paddles on out and brings back the disc.
Thankfully, I was spared having to explain to my parents how my brother got both tetnaus and cholera retrieving a plastic dinner plate.
Location: Amsterdam, Netherlands
Obvious to all reading when considering the location of this story and my extracurricular activities, I spent all day basking in Amsterdam's rich history. Sufficiently high on culture, my brother and I walked over to a park to throw a disc for a bit. Three throws in, he sends it right into the center of this tepid and brackish pond, too still to nurture the hope of the wind taking it to shore. My brother, aware of how much this disc means to me (my world travels disc has gone with me to 13 different countries at this point) immediately disrobes to his skivvies and prepares to jump in.
A local runs up to him with a look of concern in her eye and tries to talk him out of fetching my disc with stories of broken glass, tetanus, and forearm length leaches. After about a minute of convincing my brother that he's going to die a horrifically tragic death if he jumps in, another local walks and tells us of how she went swimming in there not a week ago and that people hop in all the time. A good 15 minutes of Vacillation ensues until a third local strolls on up, clearly stoned out of his gourd, with a huge German Shepard mix. He casually picks up a stick and throws it just past the disc and to the gathered crowd's delight, the dog paddles on out and brings back the disc.
Thankfully, I was spared having to explain to my parents how my brother got both tetnaus and cholera retrieving a plastic dinner plate.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)