Thursday, June 21, 2007
Post Modern Faked Orgasm |3:15 PM| Mariko: "Equaly suggestie is the status of those 'live' characters in Disneyworld. They realise the fictional in their costumes. Yet their realisation is doubly fictional and they are less real as presences than their mythic and filmic absences. Berleant interprets such a Disneywold as a parody of post-modernism, although that does seeem to miss the point that post-modernism is already pasiche.
"
Mariko: I've been reading 300 pages of this sort of thing.
Mariko: my head hurts.
Brendan: Oh man
I'm sorry, But that's hysterical.
Mariko: it is. but my head hurts. kind of makes you revise your furry post-modern thoughts. fake sex as a fake fake
how many fakes does it take to get to orgasm?
(for a furry)
in postmodernism?
spin the wheel.
Brendan: Wow, There's so many levels
What if they're faking it?
Mariko: like, they're not really?
oww. that's like being john malkovich, the furry edition
this is going to make it into your blog, isn't it?
Brendan: Yeah
Brendan: I wish I was back in school, thinking big thoughts. About people in suits being Disney characters.
Mariko: oh, its important stuff
Brendan: What if the internal A/C breaks? Is that some sort of comment on Hell is being other Characters?
Mariko: hah, dunno.
Mariko: also, the deconstruction of fashion in relation to postmodernism
the "cut" as the essential part of the garment and also, chaos theory in management
when you start learning this much about the structure of education, everyone starts to sound like they're thinking especially hard about things that are dumb.
Mariko: and then other academians calling them dumb, but not sure who or what to condemn because of the rapid changing of definitions
its seems like things eventually trickle down to semantics, doesn't it?
ugh. back to reading.
Mariko: The category of nakedness, far from being prior, could only follow that of clothes. Did not clothing invent nakedness, just as writing preceded speech. (the idea of the existence of a thing being defined by its opposition)
Brendan: Oh wow. That's very much like ancient people's defining zero, eh?
Mariko: I suppose.
:)
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Wednesday, January 03, 2007
New years |3:32 AM| Went out to a couple of events and parties. These guys put on some manner of "sky dancing" on the side of the Raddison, and it was pretty, but...not as impressive as such an undertaking might have been. While I understand how very difficult what they were doing was, it just didn't "move" me as other similar acts and performances have.
It's hard to explain, exactly.
Here is a gallery as this post kind of sucks and I mean to update and expand on it further.
http://www.terminalpacketloss.com/gallery/NewYears2007/
Not a lot of photos made the cut. Sorry. I take a shitload but I'm only ever happy with a couple, and there those that I judge tolerable. I took some movies with the camera, but they're a little large for public consumption and might trigger epileptic fits. (Footage of a strobe light)
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Tuesday, April 11, 2006
The opposite of Screw Jack |2:08 PM| Well, first we had a big fight because I was still off of my drugs and about as pleasant as a toothache located in the genitals, and because the vapid bitch at the U-haul place decided to close early. This is despite me calling her and saying we were on the way, despite them already having my credit card number and needing to only hand me the keys. The worthless fleshbag had already struck out on my "worthy of life" test. PortalStar told me, during this description of the woman, to "Not be rude"
Me: "When have I *EVER* been rude to a person behind a counter?"
Portal: "A couple times."
Me: "When? A specific example."
Portal: "You were rude to the tow truck folks."
Me: "The TOW company? THEY AREN'T PEOPLE. They do not COUNT as people!"
Then Portal met that wretched, dripping gash of a waste of space. This is when we showed up a devastating 4 minutes late.
"Yeah, uh, I got your latest message that you were on the way but I'd already turned the system off. I can't turn it back on until tomorrow"
Me: "At the end there, I got nothing but busy signals, what was up?"
Her: "Oooh, I was renting a truck and storage to a customer on site, so I was on the phone. Yeaaaah. I shut the system off though, I can't rent the truck."
Luckily, I had just gotten my drugs, so instead of grabbing her by the nose ring and spinning her around until the new nasal hole was of the right size, allowing me to cram my cock into her face in a nasal fashion, I hit the alarm button my car remote signaling the end of this conversation.
Unfortunately for my self-image, I had just gotten my drugs. They began to take affect leading to large portions of my brain that had been dormant for 2 weeks to wake up. I began to see how I'd been acting the last couple weeks, remembering all the shit I was supposed to have done, all the bills I'd be neglecting, etc.
I spent a long time apologizing to PortalStar. She said, most memorably that "It's good to have you back, Brendan." as well as "The light came back on."
Me: "The light?"
That's when she imitated the droopiest face she could, then tightened it all up into a cheerful grin. Apparently I've been looking like a sullen teenager as well. How embarrassing.
It was like waking up from a long dream, only to find you'd been buried up to your neck in ants. Not an ant hill, but ants. Ants with machetes, who are also smoking cigars.
Among one of the dumber things I did this weekend was forgetting about a wedding. 2 weeks ago I told PortalStar there was a wedding coming, then I neglected to tell her when. So when we should have been moving, PortalStar was desperately trying to find a nice dress that hadn't been packed, as I'd given her all of 2 hours notice. In my defense, it came as a bit of a surprise to me. I was trying to take a nap when my whole damn family started yelling at my door about the wedding. Luckily, I was not in the wedding party. PortalStar and I did manage to impress the hell out of a bunch of people with our swing dancing skillz.
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Saturday, December 31, 2005
Christmas stuff |5:37 PM| A better post is forthcoming, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of posting.
My girlfriend rules.
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Thursday, July 28, 2005
Conversations of Note |8:37 PM| Nathan first of all, tom cruise is OLD. I mean the fucker is old.
Nathan he is only like 42 but he looks 55
Me It's the evil eggs the scientologists filled him with
Nathan he needs to start playing stodgy war hero roles like harrison ford does.
Me I'm just waiting for them to burst on camera and all these little L-rons to pour out of his body.
Me Wriggling and crawling all over him like evil salamanders.
Nathan that is the best image you have ever given me
In the car with my girlfriend:
Her:That chick you promised to marry if you weren't already married, how old were you going to be?
Me: The first one? Leah? 40. To Bits, 39.
Her: Okay, can I have 35?
Me: Sure.
A short pause.
Me: I feel like eBay. Don't look at me like that.
her: Are you going to tell the other girls about this?
Me: No. I'm not going to send out email notifications to these women "Sorry! You've been outbid!"
Phone conversation with my girlfriend:
Her: Are you cleaning?
Me: I'm trying, it's nauseating in here with this broken disposal.
Her: You could clean your room.
Me:(Clutching a handful of broken down fire crackers) I'm going to use explosives on the sink.
Her: Don't.
Me:Ok.
Her:That was easy.
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Friday, September 10, 2004
Bleeeeh! |11:24 PM| Since I apparently suck at updating, especially when there's not much to say, here's a video of Art-History-Elisabeth and PortalStar practicing their vampire "Bleeehs!" in case we need to crash a vampire meetup soon. Try to ignore my oddly obnoxious laughter.
Video is here
It's quicktime, and only 1.8 megs last I checked.
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Thursday, August 19, 2004
|12:16 PM| I still need to put up the more interesting pictures from Vegas. Pictured below is Portal grabbing my chest, while I grab Geekygrrl's.
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Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Conversations with Vorpal |2:40 PM| I made Vorpal Bunny a new avatar for his account on a message board. He's gone through a couple name changes. His last one was "Vorpal Bunny X" in reference to "Jason X". His latest one is "Vorpal Vs. Bunny". It has the below avatar:
http://www.terminalpacketloss.com/images/stupid/avas/vorpalvsbunny.gif
and the text "Whoever wins, we lose."
I'm proud of the simple animation, as it wasn't quite as simple as flipping stuff around in Photoshop. It had to be under 10 kilobytes, take up a certain amount of space, etc. In fact, you can see where I biffed one of the frames if you look carefully. Unfortunately I only noticed the biffed frame as Vorpal was uploading the image to the board system (thus locking it into place). I still find it hypnotic.
Speaking of Vorpal, I was over at PortalStar's apartment one evening last week, and I had missed a call from him. I called him back:
*Ring Ring Ring Bananaphone...*
Vorpal: Hello?
Cecil: Hey man, I missed a call from you. I was preoccupied.
Vorpal: Were you having sex?
Cecil: No. We were playing Legend of Zelda.
Vorpal: Oh, so you have a euphemism now.
Cecil: No, we were actually playing Zelda.
Vorpal: Uh huh. Well, now you'll have a euphemism when you beat the game.
Cecil: I dunno, the new one is coming out soon, and we're not nearly finished with this one yet.
A sort of similar incident occurred several months ago at Portal's house. Her folks were going out to run errands, which would have left just Portal and me in the house. This Portal had challenged me to a match of James Bond multiplayer, and I was going to kick her butt before I went home. When we told the folks this they gave us a "Suuuuure" sort of look, and told Portal she wasn't allowed to have me over alone.
Despite our insistence that our intentions were innocent (if dorky as hell) I was kicked out of the house.
Dammit, we just wanted to play some Nightfire.
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Monday, August 09, 2004
Jabba the Babba |12:37 PM| Portal was telling me about what her grandmother used to order at the Long John Silvers drive-thru. The conversation went something like:
PortalStar: "You know those crumbs of fried breading and other junk that are left in the fryer? She'd go to the drive-thru and order those, nothing else, and demand they be given for free."
Me: "Wait, she'd order the debris? You can do that? That's horrid."
Portal: "I don't think they do it normally, but you never saw my grandmother when she was trying to get her way. Few people could stand up to Jabba the Babba."
How the heck did this woman even think of ordering that crap? I don't think it's something the employees would offer, even as a joke. Upon pressing Portal for details, she just said her grandmother was always trying to make some deal or get things cheaper. Free food was free food.
...Fuck. There's so much wrong with that. There were times when I was eating nothing but instant ramen noodles and those were almost out of my price range. But at the moment that I was considering asking for clumps of missed fish-flesh, seared into little rocks of fat and shame, I'd hope I'd realize the wasted resources that my organs represented, and go donate my body to science. With the help of a ice-pick to the brain, if necessary.
I want to go to Long John Silver's drive-thru, and try ordering this stuff. For free. If no one is behind me in line and it doesn't look busy, I'll spend up to a minute bargaining with the people at the counter. If they, for some sanity-forsaken reason, do give me the debris, for free, I'll tip them a ten, give them back the bag and say "Throw this crap away. What the hell is wrong with you? Christ!"
In fact, I'll do this the next time Vorpal is in town. I'll need someone to hold the camera.
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Monday, August 02, 2004
Cakes for the damned |3:52 PM| Portal helped me bake a cake over the weekend.
A HYPNO-CAKE.
HYPNO-CAKE CANNOT BE TRUSTED
HYPNO-CAKE CANNOT BE DENIED
This cake is decadent beyond human understanding. It's the devil's food cake recipe from the Ghiradelli cookbook my parents keep stealing from me. Damn, it's marvelous. I may bake another while I still have the supplies. Portal did a fantastic frosting job on it, my frosting efforts always come out disasterous. I'll have to have her over again to frost the second one. She was impressed that I keep baking parchment paper on hand.
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While explaining Communion and the wafers to my girlfriend |12:05 PM| Me: Anyhow, the priest has this much larger wafer that he holds up during the blessing.
Portal: That doesn't seem fair. He gets the larger one?
Me: Well, it's so that everyone can see it inside the church. He breaks it up and gives it to the people helping him hand out the communion wafers and wine.
Portal: What's the largest bone in the body? The leg bone?
Me: The femur?
Portal: So that wafer is like the femur of Christ?
-----------------Also on that note:
Me: That's kind of like that old anti-Mcdonalds ad, with the picture of the chicken and the question "What part of the chicken is the nugget?"
I've forgotten the name of the people that help the priest hand out the wafers and wine, I used to get such good grades in religon class.
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Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Why Dante won't be answering my phone calls for a while |10:33 AM| A couple months ago, Poker Host Joe called me at around midnight on my cellphone. Since reception at my apartment is laughable at best, our conversation ran something like:
"Hey man! Guess just went on sale ***SHHHHH static noises*** Alamo *SHHHH* Rolling roadshow **SHHH*"
and then the phone died. Rather than try fruitlessly to call him back, I jumped onto the Alamo website, hit their rolling roadshow site and bought 3 tickets for the next event.
The Alamo had purchased a school bus for some reason, and wanted to use it to transport a bunch of movie-goers to a drive-in theater opening somewhere in Texas. As I had not been to the drive-in since I lived in California, I jumped at the chance. I bought 3 tickets as I knew Portal would want to go, and I was sure I could find someone else who was interested.
I promptly forgot about it.
A couple days before the big event, I was reminded of it by Portal and Joe, and I realized I had to invite a third person. I'll spare you the details, but as the day arrived, Joe and his wife had cancelled, I had no one to bring, and the event was happening in an hour. I called Dante (who had been along for that Furry fiasco) and told him to "Run". He had to get to Lake Creek Mall in 20 minutes.
Hooo boy. Now the idea for this trip was a cool one. Get a bunch of folks into a bus, load it with a keg and other booze, drive them out to "Rule" Texas, stop for famous cobbler and then watch 70's exploitation movies all night.
It would have been a lot more fun if it had been a 2 hour trip, or even a 3 hour trip. A 5 hour trip however, began to tax people. Had my back not been hurting I would have been just fine, but I sometimes drive 17 hours at a stretch. Portal and Dante were not in nearly as good a mood. Heavy drinking by everyone on the bus besides the driver, the owners of the Alamo and I commenced.
As the trip dragged on, enthusiasm waned. Reaching Underwood Texas, the group began to circle around looking for a restaurant known for its cobbler. Running out of ideas, we stopped at a fireworks stand and someone yelled out "We're looking for the cobbler place! The place with the cobbler!" luckily they didn't attack the bus, knew what the hell we were looking for and gave perfect directions. I have never seen the word "cobbler" as many times as I did in that restaurant.
Reaching the drive-in, we found we had missed "Smoky and the Bandit", but were in time to watch "Death House". It was a beautiful evening, the cloudless sky allowing us to see the stars, and a couple of shooting stars shot overhead. That is, unless you were one of the 99% of people present that were freezing their asses off. I was as comfortable as I have ever been outside, but everyone else was hunched over citronila candles or huddled together for warmth.
After "Death House" was a ultra-soft-core movie of Pinocchio, in which something besides his nose grows when he was unfaithful. "Lady Terminator" was the highlight of the evening, featuring the worst rip offs of every Arnold Schwarzenegger cliche in the history of mankind. Oh, and the worst mullet ever, being sported by the "American" character named Snake, who spends the movie smoking weed and yelling "ROCK AND ROLL".
On the drive back, the bus was a lot quieter, defeated as they were by the experience. I've been trying to get in touch with Dante since then but I think he's terrified of what else I might inflict upon him.
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Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Cecil's introduction to Shiatzu |2:49 PM| I was at Portal's apartment, nursing my healing back last night, when she mentioned that she might be able to help through the use of Shiatzu massage.
She said that her father was familiar with the technique, and had also had the same back issues I was experiencing. He had taught her the proper treatment but warned that it would be painful. Willing to give it a try I lay on my stomach, and learned just how loudly I could yell in suprise.
Portal was mashing her fists into the small of my back, pressing deep into the muscles, and not relenting despite the choked "URRRRAAAAA!" noises that I was producing. After a few moments of this, she asked me if it had stopped hurting. Suprised to note a distinct reduction in pain I replied that yes, it seems to have gotte OH MY CHRIST FUCKING LORD AAAAAAAAAAARG
Over the yells that I was worried might get the cops called, "Someone is killing a sissy with a cheese grater in the apartment above me!", I heard Portal saying to her roommate:
"Wow, it's just like dad said! One area would stop hurting, then I'd need to move half an inch up and start again, and that he was going to yell even louder when I did it!"
I managed to shut my mouth, but occasionally I would be forced to flail like a bug speared by the pencil of the almighty.
When it was over, I stood up, and found myself able to straighten. Medicinal agony. Thanks, Portal. I'll let you be the one to relocate my shoulders if that ever needs to be done.
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Monday, June 14, 2004
Oooh. Naked people. |11:37 AM| Portal and I were going back to her apartment after the play last night, Wendy's combos in hand, when ancient instincts and senses awoke inside of me. Thousands of years of recent evolution had made me capable of detecting something very important, with clear survival skill impact. Bare tits in my immediate vicinity. I said out loud to Portal, as she was unlocking the door, "Hey, those people are naked!"
This is not to say I'm one of those tit-obssesed cavemen, whose only vocabulary consists of the word "WOOOO!" while gesturing with beer. But unexpected nudity is a strange surprise, and the excitement is not so much sexual, but of seeing something you should not.
Protip: When it is dark outside, and the lights are on inside, you will not be able to see through your window. Do not assume this means that the window is just as opaque-seeming from the other side.
Especially when you are naked, and brushing your teeth.
She turned to look across the apartment complex, to where a neighbor was perfoming various acts of hygiene wearing only a small thong, in a brightly lit apartment, with the shades wide open. We entered Portal's apartment and peered through the mini-blinds in the most suspicious way possible.
Me: "Think we should tell them?"
Portal: "Yeah, at the very least it'll be an excuse to meet the new neighbors."
She began to leave, when I said "Wait a second..." and then went back to leering through the shades. After the expected and corrective jab was delivered to my ribs, Portal approached the apartment and knocked on the door. I debated going out onto the porch so that I would be clearly seen eating a hamburger and waving by the naked woman, when it was pointed out just how visible she was. I debated for too long, and Portal came back. She'd let the boyfriend know.
I ran to the bedroom, hoping for some kind of comic scene of robe-throwing on and hasty shade pulling. I pulled back the shades, just as the robed woman was approaching her own window, and...just as Portal turned on the bedroom lights.
For the time it takes for the brain to send the "HIDE YOU DUMB BASTARD" signal, I was lit up and visible to the once-naked-now-robed woman, peering through shades, and I might as well have written "VOYEURISTIC PERVERT" in neon on the window.
In conclusion, unexpected breasts can liven up any dinner. Even if the drive through fucks up your order.
"Goddammit, I told 'em no fucking cheese."
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The problem with explaining things to my Ma |12:31 AM| I could be honest with my mother, that I haven't called her back because I was too sick, too depressed, and too busy to really deal with spending time with the family. But this answer, though honest, would not end the conversation. Instead, it would prolong it, into a tortuous ordeal of Salem-esque questioning.
"Why are you depressed?"
"Are you going to kill yourself?
"Are you gay?"
"Did you break up with Portal?"
"Did you kill someone?"
"Are you sure you aren't gay?"
I'm not exaggerating, these are actual past questions. Along with "Are you drinking too much" and "Are you gambling too much". The questions sound far funnier when I quote them, because I'm in the horrid habit of imitating my mother in only the most shrill tone of voice.
Now, I love my mother. And she loves me, and these questions are her way of showing she cares. However, due to this kind of "attention" I now have nearly unlimited patience for nagging.
Portal was amazed that I never, ever complained or accused her of being naggy. She expected it to come up at some point, since even in her own opinion she could be a little insistent. Seeing as I had a graduate degree in being pestered, she was simply outgunned. In the rock throwing fight that is "gentle reminders", my mom is an atomic weapon.
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Some random thoughts that don't deserve their own post. |12:00 AM| While alternating between a Wendy's Frosty and a large rootbeer:
Cecil: *BEEEEEELLLLCH*
Portal: Lovely.
Cecil: Is this turning you on?
Cecil: (In a poor imitation of Portal's voice) "OH YES, PLEASE RAVAGE ME YOU HEAVENLY SLOB!"
I've renamed the trouble ticket queue at work. It is no longer the Printer-Tech queue. It is now the Pantheon Of Agony.
Just saw the last night of Ladee Leroy's play here in town. Damn good stuff, and as a compliment, emotionally draining. I hope her career takes off even more, she's a nice funny lady. The set this time was more elaborate and impressive. I think I prefer the old set though, if only because it had my name and web address spray painted on one of the walls.
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Saturday, June 12, 2004
Mutter |8:11 PM| It's always a drag when you wake up and see that it's 7 on the clock, and right as you start feeling good about the whole day being available you realize it's 7pm. Whoops.
Portal and I stayed up way too late last night watching movies, and she got a call this morning asking her to come into work early. Figures. They apparently need 300 cream pies made, and I wonder if despite the cost and time needed to make them if they're all just going to be thrown at people.
I drove her into work, headed home, and crashed out in bed. I was laid out from illness this friday anyhow, so it was probably my body recovering from that. (I can just hear Vid humming "Down with the sickness" if only as an excuse to make that Wah-ah-ah-ah noise).
Since the new car project has been delayed due to my negotiator leaving town for a week, this week I'll contact that machine shop so I can finally "go to prototype" on my invention. Seriously. I have their phone number, rates and everything. I'll have a large number of fantastically dangerous magnets in my house within the month. If I am found impaled against my fridge, crucified by tiny objects, know that it was for the best.
We're arranging the Vegas trip today, Vorpal and the rest of us, I mean. Should be interesting, turns out some bad ass folks whose names likely mean nothing to the average reader (Finagler, LTBS) are showing up. I wonder if LolitaHunterMachiavelliX will make an appearance? Doubtful.
I need to go get my camera back from Poker-Host Joe.
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Monday, May 31, 2004
Goddamn Vorpal I'm not calling it Saddam Cecil |12:31 AM| How do I explain the seven and a half foot tall painting in my living room?
This story starts out a semester ago.
My girlfriend was in the first painting class of the year at her college. She, along with her classmates, were brainstorming for/discussing ideas for paintings to be done that year. One of my girlfriend's ideas was a painting of the Joseph Campbell "Hero with a thousand faces", a painting with as generic a hero figure as possible. Joseph Campbell's book outlined the repeating themes of the archetypal hero, using examples of several culture's big hero/messiah myths.
The class loved the idea, and agreed that any such painting would have to be big in order to impress people. How big? Oh, about seven and a half feet tall.
About halfway through the semester or so, she starts work on this project. Where, oh where, can I find a guy willing to model for this painting, someone willing to sit still for long amounts of time? Oh, perhaps that guy I'm dating!
Her: "I just need you to model. I'll make the face generic"
Me: "That's good, I was going to insist on that"
A couple months of work later, she tells me of the problem, that she can't change the face and make it look right. The angle of the subject's face is such that she can't quite alter it and not make it look really weird. She's also running out of time before the critique of the work, so it continues to be re-altered back to looking like me.
No problem, I think. She's got time.
I want to make something perfectly clear, my girlfriend is not out of her mind, she's far saner than just about all of the folks with whom I associate. With this warning, I suppose you know where the story is going.
As the critique approaches, she tells me she's given up, the rest of the painting needs more work so she can't change the face anymore. There are too many details that are problematic on the rest of the painting, like the horse's hooves.
Oh, did I not mention that? It's an equestrian painting. The hero is on a horse. With a sword.
me: "Oh hell, if the damn thing still looks like me, people are going to think I'm an egomaniac and you're an obsessed stalker!"
Her: "I know, I know, but luckily no one knows what you look like. With any luck no one will ever know it's you"
This presents a problem as I meet friends of hers from the painting class. "Hey there! You look awfully familiar! Have I seen you somewhere?" (What the hell am I going to say "Oh, yes you have, but the last time you saw me I was seven feet tall and giving you a welcoming gesture from the back of a goddamn HORSE)
The semester ends, the painting has been critqued, and the studio is closing. A place must be found to store the monument my girlfriend has made, and my apartment is the only one big enough to store the painting that still looks an awful lot like me. That's right, I now have a seven and a half foot tall painting of me in my living room. Luckily, it's just on loan, it still belongs to the artist.
"I can't keep that in the living room! I could only show it to people if I was going to fire them or invade their tiny neighboring country!"
What the hell am I supposed to do with a gargantuan, equestrian painting that just happens to look like me? I'm not THAT much of an egomaniac, and my girlfriend is quite far from crazy and obsessed with me, so those are not the impressions I want to give to visitors.
Do not get me wrong, I love this painting. I really don't have the proper words to describe how...flattering? Stunning? it all is. It just makes my living room more complicated.
The picture
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Monday, May 24, 2004
Please don't make that face while driving |3:09 PM| I was driving along with Portal the other day, and I was experiencing the weird drug induced anger I've been fighting for the past couple weeks. It tends to show itself more often in the car, as most other drivers are, to be honest, the worst human beings who have ever been born.
A greater number of them than usual were demonstrating just how much they needed to be converted into a protein paste, to be used for feeding of endangered birds so that their pathetic lives would have some purpose and meaning besides simply getting in my fucking way.
It was only when Portal asked me to stop "Making that face" and I asked "What face?" through gritted teeth that I realized I was making a face at all. The whole time I'd been driving, my eyes had been wide open, my cheeks stretched out, and my lips had been yanked across my clenched teeth. A good poker face, I do not have. But I wonder how many people had seen me.
Also, comments.
Since the blogger comment system was pissing me off, I'm trying a new comment system. Wow, you even get to use anonymous commenting, if you so wish.
Please try it out, you don't have to sign your real name, and I want to make sure it works. If something breaks, I've pissed you off, or whatever, let me know via the comments.
If you've read the post, or liked the post, please let me know on the comment screen as well.
Edit: I keep forgetting to post this.
It's that goddamn dancing banana that Vorpal loves, but from the color it is you can ascertain the current US terror alert level! This is fantastic.
Speaking of terror alert level, try this fun Propaganda game. There's a couple times when they put a more political spin on what happened to some celebrities (Like Michael Moore and Howard Stern), and it is 100% anti-bush propaganda, but give it a shot.
Also:
This fellow is using the bluetooth capabilities of his cellphone as a way to get online with his laptop. Though I do not have a laptop, I do have a handheld, one that supports bluetooth. The idea of a $10 a month flat fee that would free me from T-mobile or one of those other wallet plunderers is exciting.
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Friday, May 21, 2004
The place could use some cheering up. |9:14 AM| The other evening Portal and I went to Kyoto, a Japanese restaraunt with traditional seating arrangements (as in, barefoot, on the floor, on mats. It was a damned good restaraunt, with damn good sushi, but it was damned hard on my white devil legs.
After Portal and I left, we made our way to the parking garage through a small park area. It was a square niche in the side of a skyscraper, about the size of an apartment. They had planted trees and covered the soil with metal, and indirect lighting fixtures. The first thought that crossed my mind was "concrete forest" followed by "How do they water this?". It was the coldest attempt I had seen to bring an air of life to an office complex, hidden around a corner. I tugged Portals arm and we went into our swing dance routine.
"1,2,3 1,2,3 turn."
I'm proud of my tuck turn, and I was happy to be able to perform it with her.
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Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Tools and what have you |1:11 PM| Vorpal has now learned why I fucking hate curtains, and curtain rods. He apparently spent several hours this past weekend drilling holes into his walls trying to get his rods level.
I have in the past spelled out my hatred of curtains and curtain rods, to which Portal has always expressed dismay and confusion. This is part of an ongoing debate about my house and the miniblinds. Portal agrees that though they are functional, they are ugly, and that I should think about installing some curtains to brighten the place up.
My counter argument is that I would rather have someone break one of my fingers than ever put up curtain rods again. Much less, installing curtain rods over multiple windows, especially in a house in which I would not be spending the rest of my life.
On the same front, I picked up a new, neato rubber mallet. My other mallet was lost in a move at some point, and I needed a replacement, which gave me ample chance to buy a "dead head" mallet. I didn't think you could improve on the technology of "barrel shaped object on handle" but they have done so. With the use of what sounds like sand, the mallet does not bounce back when it strikes something. It's hard to describe how cool this is, you have to try it for yourself. Portal did not understand my childlike glee at hitting stuff until she experienced the joy of rebound-less mallet striking.
I bring this up because I need the mallet to install the giant blue rack Portal has been trying to find a replacement for, as it is atrociously ugly. I am in agreement with this, but nothing beats a Metro-Cart for functionality.
Bad Referrals from the referal logs (Items people searched for on Google and got TPL).
"he made me suck the dog's ass"
"Sulzanti"
"GeekyGrrl"
"Zusty and JP"
"olsen twins fan fiction"
"Rodian Tits"
"How to hack Computers"
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Monday, May 17, 2004
Giant Boomerang |3:22 AM| Edited a bit for mostly spelling issues. I left the really bad ADHD signs in there.
Do you recall "bumper stumpers"? Goddamn, that was a stupid goddamn show.
Portal and I went out to the field near the apartment I had to leave last week on 36 hours notice. It had been mowed, and I had a chance to show her what an ant hill looks like during "mating day". But ants were not why we were out there, we were throwing the boomerang.
I was throwing well enough that I pulled on a work glove and tried to catch the damn thing on a return pass, but I couldn't quite pull it off. Practice, practice. Also, we brought out this monstrous, crimson "Spalding Classic" boomerang that I bought for 8 bucks right before Portal gave me my current nice one. The difference between the 8 dollar one and the nice, $20-30 one was shocking. We couldn't even get the red one to turn around during flight. It did make a great noise as it left your hand, though. The damn thing was so heavy that during the throw a horrid "Thwoo...Thwooo" noise was produced, like the air itself was yelling and dodging out of the way. Here is an image of me posing stupidly. Please note the sweat had weighed down my hair. Pictured is the nice boomerang with its slightly...jubilant color scheme. I like it, I just wouldn't bring it into a bar with me.
I'm still messing around on OKcupid. This one chick I was talking to suddenly changed her pictures around, and the "seeing someone, but still friendly" vanished from her profile. From her messages, it became even more clear that she'd broken up with her boy toy. Problem was, her new pictures made her strongly resemble this chick I'd stopped talking to ages ago in less than ideal circumstances. Why was this a problem? Because I couldn't show Vorpal the chick's profile without him implying that she looked just like previously mentioned girl.
Anyhow, today he was bitching about not finding anyone, and I happened to mention this chick. The first thing out he said to me after he looked at her profile was "These pictures remind me of [girl]."
After I explained that I knew he'd say that, there was much guffawing. Here's the chick in question
Here is
The Revolution will not be televised because I feel like it.
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Monday, April 19, 2004
|2:54 AM| Dick is a killer: Tape loop parody song of George W. Bush speech. Fairly amusing in parts. I put it here because I wanted to download it at home, and found that the original host had taken it down. I assume other people might have had a similar problem, so here it is.
Sold books
I went to Half Price books on Sunday, carrying two big boxes of books. I was paid more cash than I expected, I bought some pulpish novels to read at work, and got rid of a whole lot of stuff that I won't have to carry when I move.
So why did I feel bad about it? Some of the books were gifts, some of them I'd had for years and years. I'd read my fill of them, though, and if I need them again I know where I can find them. I still felt kind of guilty about selling them, but I knew it to be an unreasonable feeling.
I told PortalStar that a couple of them were some of the best books-as-gifts I'd received as a child, and she replied that now hopefully some other child will get them and be just as excited.
I'll probably end up selling several more boxes of books, and that reminds me, I need to send Sinclair back his Dylan books. Speaking of Sinclair, let's all congratulate him on getting a job. HUZZAH.
Portal, Vid and I went Geocaching on Sunday. That was a fine outing, it's been a while since we've gone. The caches we found weren't all the exciting, but getting to them was very interesting. At one point, we had to construct a primitive bridge to cross a river that I estimated to be "Eh, looks like a foot or so deep." As it turned out, that was just how far down I could see, as when the bridge collapsed Vid found the actual depth to be several feet. We scared off a herd of turtles, and found a color changing lizard called an...oh crap. Annul? Anuol? I'll ask Vid.
At one point I had the choice of being educational or being a smart ass when the question of pollution and its effect on scenic areas.
Cecil: Speaking of, did you know that you can't read that Egyptian relic, Cleopatra's Needle they have in New York?
Portal: Oh? Why is that?
Cecil: Because it's written in fuckin' Egyptian!
But you don't have to take my word for it, take a look at this link!
bought robot
feel better
Linux machine STILL FUCKING DOWN
Buying that vase
Fark linked to pictoz.com again
Need to move the T-shirts
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Friday, April 09, 2004
If you keep swearing like that, your tongue will freeze in that position |3:28 AM| I was nearly in a car accident yesterday. As PortalStar can attest, I'm a very safe driver, and I try to limit conversations on cellphones especially if I think the traffic is taking a turn for the worse. In some cases, I'll ditch the phone entirely without warning to the person I'm speaking to, which can worry some people.
Anyhow, I was driving down the road, trying to merge with the exit lane when this jackass kept speeding up to block me off from the lane. I had to speed up in order to exit, thanks to this guy, because I was rapidly running out of room on the road (Cars ahead of me were stopped by traffic). So Portal hears me start to curse, and then suddenly yell out "YOU DICKFACED SHITSTABBER" and a *click* as I dropped the phone. I called back to let her know I was alive, she hadn't been worried, but did warn me that if I kept swearing like that I was in danger of my last words on earth being something hideous like "Dick-faced shit stabber". She spaced it out a bit to make it sound as polite and scientific as possible.
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Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Taking the fighting to the spammers...but first a nap. |8:39 AM| As I continue to forget to do stuff, like linking to all the Furry Fuzz movies (From when I was busted by sexual deviants for crashing their party), I also forget to do useful life stuff, like grocery shopping. And ordering robotics kits.
The last month or so has seen me sick 5 days out of each 7, and last night was not an exception. Portal picked up some kind of damn influenza, and I wonder if I'm coming down with it yet. I know I was working through a couple infections last week, and last night felt the same as then. Either way I was asleep until 6am today and so I didn't get the new UT or get my girlfriend to the grocery store. Sorry Portal.
I also forgot to post a thread on SA about a scriptable Wget, so I can relaunch my own damn website. One thing I realized is that I'm going to have to tighten security of this site a great deal. Such as, changing the primary site password (which the old system said couldn't be done, but c'mon guys, that's idiotic) cleaning out old email boxes, and basically battening down the hatches. If the relaunch goes to plan, I'll probably be attracting a lot of the wrong kinds of attention.
I may also have to switch to movable type for my blog here, which would be a shame. You folks wouldn't notice a difference, but I like the spellcheck here, though I've been using it less. Maybe I could hire Sinclair to copy edit for me. I think he'd stab me right in the face.
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Friday, March 12, 2004
American Zombie |8:27 PM| Portal had a great idea for a slasher movie. "Carne Diem"
Seize the Dead.
It'd have to be a very philosophical movie, Exploring such questions as "Why do we fight the zombies?" and "Are we not doomed to be just as dead and walking as they are?"
Between intense gunfights and such.
The other ideas I hashed out are in ICQ log form right now, I'm going to edit it up in a bit, so someone reading this doesn't have to deal with a damn chat log.
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Thursday, February 26, 2004
Cheatin' With The Pizzaworks |1:36 PM| Portal star, I have a confession. I've been seeing someone else. His name is Dave.
I know, I know how I said I had given him up, that I wasn't going to see him anymore, and that was true for several weeks. But soon, I couldn't get him off of my mind. I thought about his warm skin, how it was flaky.
How he was, frankly, delicious.
I've been back to see him, darling. Today at lunch in fact. Double Daves has a place up here, a modest retreat, and I saw him before noon.
Can you understand? Please, I hope you can.
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The Three Mr. P's. Or something. |10:48 AM| Last night, I was delayed in going to Portal's house by my Past, some Pornography, and my Poppa. I had just told Portal I was leaving soon when a friend of mine sent me an AIM message showing me pictures of the current boyfriend of a former friend of mine. We remarked that his head looked kind of "smooshed". I think it's a medical term. Right after that, my dad (using my little sister's AIM client) sends me a message asking where his "f******* cookbook" was. Since the cookbook is mine, and I wasn't about to let my father self censor, I replied "You mean MY apeshitting, dogfucking cookbook?" I went on to use some other foul language when my dad, still sending messages on a pink background in a giant purple font, sent back "Don't try to impress me."
It stopped me in my tracks. Normally when on a cursing tear like that, nothing really slows me down. My dad managed to. When I explained this, he said "Thanks for the props, dog."
Ugh. At least he wasn't changing letters into numbers. At about this point, some random poster on a forum asked me if I still wanted pictures of a girl I had posted. I had posted a thread, in a pornographic context, asking "can you identify this chick?" with a bunch of pictures of chickens and ducks, also included were some random women from my webhosting. I went to the trouble of accepting his offering of a bunch of pictures of this girl. (I'd been using the image as a punchline to a bunch of rack related jokes recently)
Portal was only partially amused at my explanations as to why I was late. "You were late because you were downloading pornography?"
"Not for me! I was going to post it in this silly thread I made."
"Oh! So pornography for other people! You're getting picture for other people to jack off to? Isn't that kind of...gay?"
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Thursday, February 19, 2004
Damn this mortal body |12:13 PM| What a load of crap. I've picked up some infection that is making me feel like death warmed over. Spots on skin? No. Hemorrhaging? No.
Nothing to justify why I feel like this. It has sapped my energy, I feel cold despite my huge jacket, I'm shivering or shaking, and my balance is crap.
This is bullshit. The least this disease could do would be to give me something demonstrable, like a hacking cough or blood running out of my eyes. But no, the only visible symptom besides shivering is that my face "doesn't have any color".
Vid says, as a manager, if I can't do my job I should go home. Well, I'm capable of doing my job but I'm not happy, which isn't a job requirement. I'm just going to sit here, feeling like death warmed over and wonder why my immune system failed me. It better look like a goddamn pro-wrestling match in there, with anti-bodies and white blood cells hitting bacteria over the head with tiny chairs or something.
On a lighter note, Portal has stopped punching me in the belly when I start doing something that calls for punishment. Now she bites me. At one point, during an explanation of the "Chicks in prison" movie genre, I launched into a rant about how we're all prisoners...in our hearts! How we can't let our emotions jail us blah blah blah so Portal started gnawing on my skull.
"Your head won't fit in my mouth!" She exclaimed, clearly disappointed.
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Wednesday, February 18, 2004
PortalStar would like to say... |2:05 AM| Guest Speaker PortalStar:
Heeloo everyone it ist my 21st irthday and I am dvunk. I havbe theyy Brenceceil to hthank for that. And fados and red fexz but no t boyxz cellar because they cahrge cover. I am happy. I am intociscated. Have a happy one. Yes/.
-M.
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Friday, February 13, 2004
Tipping |12:48 PM| I might tip too much. Portal says that Miss Manners says that she knew this guy that exploded when he ate pop rocks and coke cola. Wait, ignore that. Portal says that Miss Manners says it's rude for counter workers to ask for tips, as they are not waiters and get full wages. Waiters/Waitresses are paid at a different, lower rate as tips are expected.
Well, dammit, I feel as though I should directly reward people for not spitting in my food or giving me small pox.
Also, when I was given a free movie at I Love Video, I called back to say "Thanks". While it seems strange to do, it apparently made that clerk's night a whole lot better. I was thanked more for thanking them.
Oh, what a good boy am I.
I dreamed that my friend Vorpal was dead, but I could see and talk to him. Our friend Rockstar Casey and I were the only ones who could. This led to problems when we'd be talking in a restaurant and the waitress would look at Casey and me like we were nuts.
Vorpal would bitch about us driving his car, but it's not like he could even open doors anymore. All he could do was bitch and and kind of move stuff a little. Generally we walked and drove around town discussing what this meant, and wondering if we were crazy, Vorpal most of all.
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Friday, December 26, 2003
Mushy Stuff |4:55 AM| Despite the all the family togetherness, the food, the presents and the general attitude of "Let's be nice to each other", the best part of this Christmas, to me, was a very sappy moment. Portal and I were curled up together on the couch at her parent's place, watching (but not intently) the first non-Christmas based show I could find.
Sitting there, our arms wrapped around each other, I could feel her body heat through her shirt, the subtle movements of her breathing, the motion of cloth against skin and bra strap. It was wonderful, to be sharing a time and place with someone you trust and love, to be at total ease. I was relaxed enough where I could appreciate the less complicated joys.
Mushy, Cliche'd, bah, to hell with worrying about it. I was hugging a loved one, who was hugging me back, and for a few minutes all was right in the world.
I suppose it helps that she got me the most advanced pogo stick I have ever seen in my life, but that's probably up to the poets.
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Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Rebates? Next you'll say Santa Claus is real |12:46 AM| Hey, Symantec just sent me a rebate check. Took them 6 weeks, just like they said. Wow, rebates DO happen! I sent off for the rebate of $50 for upgrading from one version of Norton Utilities to the latest (this was back when I was fixing some issues on Portal's Macintosh) and whadda you know, they actually did what they claimed. They've certainly earned some additional loyalty from me.
Also, in a tremendously caveman moment, I failed at describing some Christmas lights to Portal as we were driving along. I noticed some pillars covered in bright red lights, creating a cone effect, and wanted to say how striking they were to me. Instead, I opened my mouth and said "reeeeeeeed".
Oops. My goddamn internal monologue went audible.
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Tuesday, July 22, 2003
My wheelchair weighs 2 tons. |11:50 AM| I'm off the crutches, already. So much faster this time, than the last. I was back onto the foot as soon as possible, ignoring most of the pain, taking advil and icing it as need, and I healed more quickly. In injury situations, you might want to ask yourself "What would a hunter-gatherer do?". This is not an acceptable course of action for most other day-to-day events, such as interacting with the bank ("Stab with flint") or most doors in buildings ("Stab with bigger flint").
I still carry a crutch around, just in case the pain gets to be intolerable, but that's happening less and less now. PortalStar's cousins were still in town last night, along with one of their girlfriends. I used them to model pictoz.com shirts, so I finally have advertising material. With a price sheet, adverts, and almost some kind of plan, I'm ready to relaunch that goddamn site.
Last night, before we tried going to lasertag (Closed) then bowling (closed) then the arcade (Dorky, but succesful), Portal had us all try out some odd hair dyes and gels. It was amusing, and the hair styles we end up with were imaginative, if nothing else.
I look pretty swell with blue hair, but you can't tell from these image:
Blue Hair
Portal begins to doubt her cousin.
Doubtful
Portal's hair being dyed.
Dye Hair
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Sunday, July 20, 2003
The world was my wheelchair |1:46 PM| I went windsurfing with PortalStar this past saturday. It was quite amusing, and far harder than it looks. The speedboats throwing up chop did not help things, either. I was given the basic rundown on what to do, and I proceeded to get thrown from the board repeatedly. At one point, I was catapulted over the board, and the sail, by a sudden gust of wind. PortalStar and her father agreed that they had never seen anything quite like it before. I kept falling into the water, and hitting rocks, and at one point I went around the wrong side of the sail, only to have it stike my face quite hard. Reeling from the hit, I couldn't balance anymore and was pushed into the water immediately. Floating upside down, I realized I had to get back up to the surface or Portal's dad was going to think I was dead.
One thing about a windsurfing board, is that if the sail falls on you, it can be easy to panic if you try to come up underneath it. When I was much younger, I had been trapped under a raft while swimming, unable to surface. Because I had already felt that kind of panic at a young age, I'm much more comfortable when stuck like that. Sure, it's not fun, but you've got every other direction to go to free yourself.
My windsurfing came to an end, suddenly, when the board tipped up and I slid straight down into the water, hitting a rock with one foot, but not the other. All of my weight twisted my ankle violently, and I was thrown into the location know by its scientific name "Hurt Locker". Dragging myself back to the board (Once my brain had stopped vacationing in "White hot pain land" I gripped the board and relaxed for a bit. Signalling to Portal and her father, I let them know I was out of commision. I spent as much time in the water as possible, as it support my leg. I floated back around to the area of the beach where we were sitting, and told Portal to continue surfing without me. The whole lake was supporting me, and my leg. The world was my wheelchair, and it was comforting, despite the pain.
After the beach, we went to Walgreens and rented crutches. Once again, I'm riding gimp sticks. Luckily, my legs were not needed for eating Sushi:
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Friday, July 18, 2003
She digs the villians |12:46 PM| PortalStar related to me recently about how she finds herself attracted to the villians in movies, never the hero. She did clarify that it was only the more grandiose, stylish villians, not the truly evil and despicable ones. At that point we started to review the traits I share with your typical, over-the-top villian.
I'm not often beaten or defeated, I'm usually "Foiled".
As a follow up to the previous statement, I often yell "CURSES" and sometimes I mean it.
All my ideas quickly turn into absurdly complicated schemes to perform some task. ("Let's build a shipping company out of giant blimps in order to make the roads safer!"),
My superiority complex and corresponding ego (Which I am keeping in check most of the time)
And of course, my involuntary and frightening cackle.
I'm still classified as a good guy, but I've still got a bunch of the "bad guy" traits. Apparently, my habit of "Steepling" my fingers (holding them tip to tip, palms apart) is a very villian-esque action.
I'll try to get a recording of my cackle again, but it's never as good when I try to do it on cue.
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Sunday, July 13, 2003
|12:28 AM| Helluva weekend. This whole week has been incredible. Work is getting harder, but PortalStar and I have been having a blast. She seemed to dig geocaching, so hopefully tomorrow we'll be going with Vid when we hit some new spots. I was helping her with her website (which is not yet up) on Friday afternoon, and goddamn did I get useless. She has a bed, which is something I still personally lack. I stretched out across it, buried myself in fine linen, and became a breathing lump of lazy. She'd ask me for opinions and I'd move at the speed of mammal evolution in order to view the screen, discuss it with her, and make a suggestion. The moment there was a load progress bar or a restart, I'd turn back into part of the bed at the speed of light.
Finally getting all the images judged, I was able to nap until it was time for Vorpal's brother's 21st birthday party. I was invited because I'm a friend, and also because I am keeper of "Molly" a beer tap. Helpful thing to have around. It had been lent around the block recently, and thus was in someone else's possesion that night. I had to sneak into an apartment complex, jump on to a patio, and then....politely knock on the window because the people living there were home. (I thought they weren't going to be there). I'm glad I didn't get shot. After that rescue mission, we headed to the party.
The party is worth its own entry, so it's below this entry, despite being chronologically later.
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Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Tiny buckets of joy |12:48 AM| How's this for a turn of a events? Portal and I were incredibly close to being finished tuning the violin. Its poorly made pegs were held in by pressure against the wood of the frame. This meant you had to pull them out, tune, then jam them back in very hard, making precise tuning a bitch and a half. Right as I was making the last fine adjustments to the last string, the cheap plywood bridge stapped in two and flew across the room, nearly jabbing out my eye on the way. Not only was 40 minutes of difficult tuning down the toilet, but now the insturment requires repair.
PortalStar superglued the bridge components back together, but I don't know how well it's going to hold up when we put it back on. At least I learned a little about playing the flute, and managed to produce sounds that were nearly musical.
Things for which Portalstar Punched me:
1.She mentioned the tragic story of a girl raised by two mentally retarded women here in Austin. The girl had grown up in a closet, and apparently spoke to rats. At least, that was the gist of it I got from Portal, she apparently concentrated on the rat side of things too much. When portal said that she couldn't remember the girl's name, I helpfully suggested it might be
"*chittering noise...Eeek!". Strength of punch: medium. Degree of anger: Medium->high. I was also punched for suggesting I hire the rat girl to train an army of loyal rat soldiers to do my bidding.
2. I was explaing the role of royal jelly in the development of bee larvae. Portal said that she used royal jelly under her eyes, as it is apparently good for the skin. When the subject of how one goes about aquiring enough royal jelly to fill even a small container, I began to sing "The world owes me a living" while mimicing the act of milking a tiny udder. I went on to describe the large bee farms someone must keep, and how the buckets are very tiny. "Milking BEEEEEES"
Strength of punch: very low.
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Monday, June 16, 2003
This is the worlds shittiest violin player, playing just for my grandma |3:20 PM| Portal owns a violin, bought through mail order. It is, according to her, not the best violin in the world. Her parents didn't pay for classes, and then wondered why she didn't improve, or stick with it. She has told me not to belittle the violin in public, as she's afraid it might upset her parents.
As you may or may not recall, reader person, I love the violin. I may have mentioned on this blog about how after (or even before) piano lessons as a kid, I would sneak around the building in order to listen to the other kids play the violin. I was told during high school by the music teacher that she would be unable to teach a trumpet player the violin. I still haven't the slightest idea why. At the time this was quite a roadblock, as neither I nor my parents had the cash to pay for paying for lessons for a musical instrument. Especially since I sucked ass at school at the time.
What this comes down to is I finally have access to a violin without renting or purchasing it, and I have free time during the week. The debate has become to take guitar or violin lessons. I'm not going to pay money to learn the blasted didjeridu if I can possibly avoid it. It's a plastic tube for crying out loud. Back to the subject at hand, violin, or guitar? Also, diligent readers of this blog will make side bets of "How long will he remain interested in this current pursuit?". If my father hadn't taken his guitar back I might still be building calluses.
More sad news. My Grandmother (the non dead one) is in the hospital. She's already had her gall bladder removed in the last 3 days. I didn't even think humans still had a gall bladder that was removable, but since I've also heard of "Gall stones" it's clear I just never gave gall bladders much thought. Gall in general is something I only considered while reading Hamlet, and wondering about the livers of pigeons.
My grandmother is at this point, quite demented. To the point that my father recovered a $6000 check just by cleaning the living room of her house, and that she has stopped listening to any legal advice from the people she pays for such information. This means that her estate, as it stands, is going to vanish almost entirely into the coffers of the U.S. Government upon her death, which could be quite soon.
I feel awfully sorry for my father, he had to drive to Murray, Kentucky to clean up the affairs of his now dying mother. I see it as the inevitable, especially with her decline over the past few years. I'm sure it certainly isn't like that for my dad. This is one of those few times I'm just not sure how my dad feels. He's probably losing himself in the tasks at hand, the cleaning of the house, the anger of dealing with finances, the paper associated with removing his mother's control over her own life... He's quiet when things like this are occurring. I wonder at what point he taught me to lose myself in the work of foul moments, that the responsbilities of the mundane tasks were a kind of freedom, as they were a logical response to events with no other possible "reasonable" reaction.
Back to comedy sooner or later, I'm sure. Lizards, Grandmothers, bad music. Give me a bit of time here, folks.
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Thursday, May 29, 2003
This post is supposed to be me gushing and being cute. |11:35 AM| Edited that post two below this one for some more details. Feel free to read it. Oh, and I fixed the last couple images in the last one.
Attempting to nap while curled up in the arms of someone else is wonderfully challenging. After a couple long nights and a shopping trip that took me all over town, I just wanted to catch a few winks last night. At the time, I happened to be at Portal's new place, and I mumbled something about "Just a quick second" before crashing down atop her bed like a slain giant. Moments later, Portal realized that if I was allowed to sleep, it would take a cataclysm to wake me back up. She proceeded to grab my shoulders and start bouncing me against the bed saying "Cooooookies! We were going to bake cookies!". It was cute, but ineffective, as I have slept through much worse, sometimes at the risk of my job.
Giving up, she curled up with me, and was a wonderful addition to my attempt to sleep, however certain logistical issues came up. When you're trying to sleep, you're trying to stay still. So if you have an elbow planted on your arm and your head is at a funny angle, you have to move it. Studies could be done about the proper, most comfortable ways to tangle legs together, but Portal and I manage. I'll keep an eye on the scientific journals for "Cuddle Physics" but they seem to just be working on "Laser Cooling" and other boring crap like that.
Just as an aside, I accidently head-butted her when getting out of bed later, and for a second I thought I'd broken her nose. She's okay, and if it makes you the reader feel better, she hit me with a very strong elbow months back. I found a particular knot in her back during a backrub, and her elbow twitched backwards into my face. Such a helpless feeling, seeing a strike about to land and knowing your hands are not in a position to block it, so you just stare at the hit until it lands. "Uh oh".
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Sunday, May 11, 2003
The chicken caper |4:06 PM| You know how I said I'd edit this to include pictures? Well I left the damn pictures in PortalStar's dorm room because I'm an idiot.
I got attacked by a chicken, kind of.
I was at a petting zoo at a hotel and a rooster got loose
I followed it, a security guard, and a desk guy followed it with me. We tried to corner it a couple times, but despite having a brain the size of a pencil eraser, it was adept at getting away.
At one point we had it cornered under a desk. We had the little bastard.
And so Mr. Chicken sees:
A security guard, hardened by several brutal rate disputes, desperate for combat.
A front desk jockey, fully misanthropic, praying for the death of customers or himself.
...and some jack ass in a polo shirt and khakis saying "Here rooster rooster rooster!"
He charged me, the least threatening, from under the desk. He bonked me in the forehead on his way by, and try to slip around me in the confusion.
I had my hands on him as he scuttled by, but I didn't want to break his widdle wings.
His cute, widdle chicken wings.
So I let go, and he ran past me.
That's when it gets even weirder.
This little kid had been watching from a distance. In his hand he was carrying a small leaf, delicately pinched between two fingers. When the rooster made a break for it, he walks right up to it. Instead of running, the bird freezes in place.
The kid walks up, taps the rooster with the leaf, and says "I gotchoo wooster! I gotchooo now!"
At this point, said rooster just stands there for the guard to pick him up.
I have no idea why the 2 volt brain of the rooster decided that the tiny waddling kid was a safe thing, or why it decided to hang around after being tapped gently with a leaf. However, he was soon back behind bars.
Here is a cute picture of a rabbit that I was holding.
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Friday, May 09, 2003
Brilliant Ideas and broken power supplies |1:35 AM| Cecil: Surge hits the fuse, POP and the supply is dead. Poor SHODAN.
PortalStar: oops heh. I forgot my oreo in the milk and it became oreo mush
Cecil: I'm not going to open that damn thing up. Power supplies are like monitors. Big fucking capacitors just waiting to kill you.
PortalStar: will it be ok if you replace the fuse?
Cecil: Yeah, dangerous as hell
Cecil: safer to just purchase a new power supply.
PortalStar: somene should make an oreo sogginess meter
Cecil: hahahaha. Like that fat meter thing?
Cecil: The two tongs?
PortalStar: I was thinking more along the lines of a meat doneness probe
PortalStar: but that could work too. You wouldn't have to poke a hole in the cookie
Cecil: On a scale of rock to liquid...
Cecil: with mush being the mid point
PortalStar: yeah, and it like *beeps* when it's donee
PortalStar: I guess tongs would work because the girth of the tong space would be proportional to the softness of the cookie.
PortalStar: You might get some cookie squishage, though.
Cecil: Perhaps a sonic device then?
Cecil: So physical contact isn't needed?
PortalStar: that would be perfect~!
PortalStar: that wouldn't heat up the milk now, would it?
Cecil: Nah. Just a single pulse.
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Thursday, May 08, 2003
|10:55 AM| I've never seen anyone make a comment "Without skipping a beat" before. Portal and I were discussing what to do with our evening, and a song reminded her of the movie Shrek. I said I hadn't seen it, and suggested we rent and watch it. Her reply was that she'd seen it half a dozen times already. When I suggested "Maybe we could swing by the arcade and play Time Crisis 3" as a joke, Portal did not even pause long enough for a breath before saying "Shrek sounds like a perfect idea!"
We ended up watching Shrek.
I'm a dorky gamer, but I do try my best to keep Portal amused. She has apparently noticed my...chivalrous gaming nature. I suppose that I wouldn't be dating her if she wasn't smart as hell, so I shouldn't be suprised that she notices my behavior.
Example, when playing "House of the Dead", I'll make sure she's still in the game by paying for extra lives when she isn't looking.
Portal: "I noticed what you were up to, 'Oooh, nice shot [Portal]!' as you quietly slip another quarter into the machine!"
She is a good shot though, at blasting zombies.
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Post Modern Faked Orgasm |3:15 PM| Mariko: "Equaly suggestie is the status of those 'live' characters in Disneyworld. They realise the fictional in their costumes. Yet their realisation is doubly fictional and they are less real as presences than their mythic and filmic absences. Berleant interprets such a Disneywold as a parody of post-modernism, although that does seeem to miss the point that post-modernism is already pasiche.
"
Mariko: I've been reading 300 pages of this sort of thing.
Mariko: my head hurts.
Brendan: Oh man
I'm sorry, But that's hysterical.
Mariko: it is. but my head hurts. kind of makes you revise your furry post-modern thoughts. fake sex as a fake fake
how many fakes does it take to get to orgasm?
(for a furry)
in postmodernism?
spin the wheel.
Brendan: Wow, There's so many levels
What if they're faking it?
Mariko: like, they're not really?
oww. that's like being john malkovich, the furry edition
this is going to make it into your blog, isn't it?
Brendan: Yeah
Brendan: I wish I was back in school, thinking big thoughts. About people in suits being Disney characters.
Mariko: oh, its important stuff
Brendan: What if the internal A/C breaks? Is that some sort of comment on Hell is being other Characters?
Mariko: hah, dunno.
Mariko: also, the deconstruction of fashion in relation to postmodernism
the "cut" as the essential part of the garment and also, chaos theory in management
when you start learning this much about the structure of education, everyone starts to sound like they're thinking especially hard about things that are dumb.
Mariko: and then other academians calling them dumb, but not sure who or what to condemn because of the rapid changing of definitions
its seems like things eventually trickle down to semantics, doesn't it?
ugh. back to reading.
Mariko: The category of nakedness, far from being prior, could only follow that of clothes. Did not clothing invent nakedness, just as writing preceded speech. (the idea of the existence of a thing being defined by its opposition)
Brendan: Oh wow. That's very much like ancient people's defining zero, eh?
Mariko: I suppose.
:)
Labels: goddamn chatlogs, Mariko
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Wednesday, January 03, 2007
New years |3:32 AM| Went out to a couple of events and parties. These guys put on some manner of "sky dancing" on the side of the Raddison, and it was pretty, but...not as impressive as such an undertaking might have been. While I understand how very difficult what they were doing was, it just didn't "move" me as other similar acts and performances have.
It's hard to explain, exactly.
Here is a gallery as this post kind of sucks and I mean to update and expand on it further.
http://www.terminalpacketloss.com/gallery/NewYears2007/
Not a lot of photos made the cut. Sorry. I take a shitload but I'm only ever happy with a couple, and there those that I judge tolerable. I took some movies with the camera, but they're a little large for public consumption and might trigger epileptic fits. (Footage of a strobe light)
Labels: Cass, Mariko, Pictures
(1) comments
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
The opposite of Screw Jack |2:08 PM| Well, first we had a big fight because I was still off of my drugs and about as pleasant as a toothache located in the genitals, and because the vapid bitch at the U-haul place decided to close early. This is despite me calling her and saying we were on the way, despite them already having my credit card number and needing to only hand me the keys. The worthless fleshbag had already struck out on my "worthy of life" test. PortalStar told me, during this description of the woman, to "Not be rude"
Me: "When have I *EVER* been rude to a person behind a counter?"
Portal: "A couple times."
Me: "When? A specific example."
Portal: "You were rude to the tow truck folks."
Me: "The TOW company? THEY AREN'T PEOPLE. They do not COUNT as people!"
Then Portal met that wretched, dripping gash of a waste of space. This is when we showed up a devastating 4 minutes late.
"Yeah, uh, I got your latest message that you were on the way but I'd already turned the system off. I can't turn it back on until tomorrow"
Me: "At the end there, I got nothing but busy signals, what was up?"
Her: "Oooh, I was renting a truck and storage to a customer on site, so I was on the phone. Yeaaaah. I shut the system off though, I can't rent the truck."
Luckily, I had just gotten my drugs, so instead of grabbing her by the nose ring and spinning her around until the new nasal hole was of the right size, allowing me to cram my cock into her face in a nasal fashion, I hit the alarm button my car remote signaling the end of this conversation.
Unfortunately for my self-image, I had just gotten my drugs. They began to take affect leading to large portions of my brain that had been dormant for 2 weeks to wake up. I began to see how I'd been acting the last couple weeks, remembering all the shit I was supposed to have done, all the bills I'd be neglecting, etc.
I spent a long time apologizing to PortalStar. She said, most memorably that "It's good to have you back, Brendan." as well as "The light came back on."
Me: "The light?"
That's when she imitated the droopiest face she could, then tightened it all up into a cheerful grin. Apparently I've been looking like a sullen teenager as well. How embarrassing.
It was like waking up from a long dream, only to find you'd been buried up to your neck in ants. Not an ant hill, but ants. Ants with machetes, who are also smoking cigars.
Among one of the dumber things I did this weekend was forgetting about a wedding. 2 weeks ago I told PortalStar there was a wedding coming, then I neglected to tell her when. So when we should have been moving, PortalStar was desperately trying to find a nice dress that hadn't been packed, as I'd given her all of 2 hours notice. In my defense, it came as a bit of a surprise to me. I was trying to take a nap when my whole damn family started yelling at my door about the wedding. Luckily, I was not in the wedding party. PortalStar and I did manage to impress the hell out of a bunch of people with our swing dancing skillz.
Labels: Mariko
(1) comments
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Christmas stuff |5:37 PM| A better post is forthcoming, but I'm trying to get back into the habit of posting.
My girlfriend rules.
Labels: Mariko
(1) comments
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Conversations of Note |8:37 PM| Nathan first of all, tom cruise is OLD. I mean the fucker is old.
Nathan he is only like 42 but he looks 55
Me It's the evil eggs the scientologists filled him with
Nathan he needs to start playing stodgy war hero roles like harrison ford does.
Me I'm just waiting for them to burst on camera and all these little L-rons to pour out of his body.
Me Wriggling and crawling all over him like evil salamanders.
Nathan that is the best image you have ever given me
In the car with my girlfriend:
Her:That chick you promised to marry if you weren't already married, how old were you going to be?
Me: The first one? Leah? 40. To Bits, 39.
Her: Okay, can I have 35?
Me: Sure.
A short pause.
Me: I feel like eBay. Don't look at me like that.
her: Are you going to tell the other girls about this?
Me: No. I'm not going to send out email notifications to these women "Sorry! You've been outbid!"
Phone conversation with my girlfriend:
Her: Are you cleaning?
Me: I'm trying, it's nauseating in here with this broken disposal.
Her: You could clean your room.
Me:(Clutching a handful of broken down fire crackers) I'm going to use explosives on the sink.
Her: Don't.
Me:Ok.
Her:That was easy.
Labels: Mariko, Wonderlust
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Friday, September 10, 2004
Bleeeeh! |11:24 PM| Since I apparently suck at updating, especially when there's not much to say, here's a video of Art-History-Elisabeth and PortalStar practicing their vampire "Bleeehs!" in case we need to crash a vampire meetup soon. Try to ignore my oddly obnoxious laughter.
Video is here
It's quicktime, and only 1.8 megs last I checked.
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko
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Thursday, August 19, 2004
|12:16 PM| I still need to put up the more interesting pictures from Vegas. Pictured below is Portal grabbing my chest, while I grab Geekygrrl's.
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko, Pictures
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Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Conversations with Vorpal |2:40 PM| I made Vorpal Bunny a new avatar for his account on a message board. He's gone through a couple name changes. His last one was "Vorpal Bunny X" in reference to "Jason X". His latest one is "Vorpal Vs. Bunny". It has the below avatar:
http://www.terminalpacketloss.com/images/stupid/avas/vorpalvsbunny.gif
and the text "Whoever wins, we lose."
I'm proud of the simple animation, as it wasn't quite as simple as flipping stuff around in Photoshop. It had to be under 10 kilobytes, take up a certain amount of space, etc. In fact, you can see where I biffed one of the frames if you look carefully. Unfortunately I only noticed the biffed frame as Vorpal was uploading the image to the board system (thus locking it into place). I still find it hypnotic.
Speaking of Vorpal, I was over at PortalStar's apartment one evening last week, and I had missed a call from him. I called him back:
*Ring Ring Ring Bananaphone...*
Vorpal: Hello?
Cecil: Hey man, I missed a call from you. I was preoccupied.
Vorpal: Were you having sex?
Cecil: No. We were playing Legend of Zelda.
Vorpal: Oh, so you have a euphemism now.
Cecil: No, we were actually playing Zelda.
Vorpal: Uh huh. Well, now you'll have a euphemism when you beat the game.
Cecil: I dunno, the new one is coming out soon, and we're not nearly finished with this one yet.
A sort of similar incident occurred several months ago at Portal's house. Her folks were going out to run errands, which would have left just Portal and me in the house. This Portal had challenged me to a match of James Bond multiplayer, and I was going to kick her butt before I went home. When we told the folks this they gave us a "Suuuuure" sort of look, and told Portal she wasn't allowed to have me over alone.
Despite our insistence that our intentions were innocent (if dorky as hell) I was kicked out of the house.
Dammit, we just wanted to play some Nightfire.
Labels: Broken Links, DerekD, Mariko
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Monday, August 09, 2004
Jabba the Babba |12:37 PM| Portal was telling me about what her grandmother used to order at the Long John Silvers drive-thru. The conversation went something like:
PortalStar: "You know those crumbs of fried breading and other junk that are left in the fryer? She'd go to the drive-thru and order those, nothing else, and demand they be given for free."
Me: "Wait, she'd order the debris? You can do that? That's horrid."
Portal: "I don't think they do it normally, but you never saw my grandmother when she was trying to get her way. Few people could stand up to Jabba the Babba."
How the heck did this woman even think of ordering that crap? I don't think it's something the employees would offer, even as a joke. Upon pressing Portal for details, she just said her grandmother was always trying to make some deal or get things cheaper. Free food was free food.
...Fuck. There's so much wrong with that. There were times when I was eating nothing but instant ramen noodles and those were almost out of my price range. But at the moment that I was considering asking for clumps of missed fish-flesh, seared into little rocks of fat and shame, I'd hope I'd realize the wasted resources that my organs represented, and go donate my body to science. With the help of a ice-pick to the brain, if necessary.
I want to go to Long John Silver's drive-thru, and try ordering this stuff. For free. If no one is behind me in line and it doesn't look busy, I'll spend up to a minute bargaining with the people at the counter. If they, for some sanity-forsaken reason, do give me the debris, for free, I'll tip them a ten, give them back the bag and say "Throw this crap away. What the hell is wrong with you? Christ!"
In fact, I'll do this the next time Vorpal is in town. I'll need someone to hold the camera.
Labels: Mariko
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Monday, August 02, 2004
Cakes for the damned |3:52 PM| Portal helped me bake a cake over the weekend.
A HYPNO-CAKE.
HYPNO-CAKE CANNOT BE TRUSTED
HYPNO-CAKE CANNOT BE DENIED
This cake is decadent beyond human understanding. It's the devil's food cake recipe from the Ghiradelli cookbook my parents keep stealing from me. Damn, it's marvelous. I may bake another while I still have the supplies. Portal did a fantastic frosting job on it, my frosting efforts always come out disasterous. I'll have to have her over again to frost the second one. She was impressed that I keep baking parchment paper on hand.
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko, Pictures
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While explaining Communion and the wafers to my girlfriend |12:05 PM| Me: Anyhow, the priest has this much larger wafer that he holds up during the blessing.
Portal: That doesn't seem fair. He gets the larger one?
Me: Well, it's so that everyone can see it inside the church. He breaks it up and gives it to the people helping him hand out the communion wafers and wine.
Portal: What's the largest bone in the body? The leg bone?
Me: The femur?
Portal: So that wafer is like the femur of Christ?
-----------------Also on that note:
Me: That's kind of like that old anti-Mcdonalds ad, with the picture of the chicken and the question "What part of the chicken is the nugget?"
I've forgotten the name of the people that help the priest hand out the wafers and wine, I used to get such good grades in religon class.
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Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Why Dante won't be answering my phone calls for a while |10:33 AM| A couple months ago, Poker Host Joe called me at around midnight on my cellphone. Since reception at my apartment is laughable at best, our conversation ran something like:
"Hey man! Guess just went on sale ***SHHHHH static noises*** Alamo *SHHHH* Rolling roadshow **SHHH*"
and then the phone died. Rather than try fruitlessly to call him back, I jumped onto the Alamo website, hit their rolling roadshow site and bought 3 tickets for the next event.
The Alamo had purchased a school bus for some reason, and wanted to use it to transport a bunch of movie-goers to a drive-in theater opening somewhere in Texas. As I had not been to the drive-in since I lived in California, I jumped at the chance. I bought 3 tickets as I knew Portal would want to go, and I was sure I could find someone else who was interested.
I promptly forgot about it.
A couple days before the big event, I was reminded of it by Portal and Joe, and I realized I had to invite a third person. I'll spare you the details, but as the day arrived, Joe and his wife had cancelled, I had no one to bring, and the event was happening in an hour. I called Dante (who had been along for that Furry fiasco) and told him to "Run". He had to get to Lake Creek Mall in 20 minutes.
Hooo boy. Now the idea for this trip was a cool one. Get a bunch of folks into a bus, load it with a keg and other booze, drive them out to "Rule" Texas, stop for famous cobbler and then watch 70's exploitation movies all night.
It would have been a lot more fun if it had been a 2 hour trip, or even a 3 hour trip. A 5 hour trip however, began to tax people. Had my back not been hurting I would have been just fine, but I sometimes drive 17 hours at a stretch. Portal and Dante were not in nearly as good a mood. Heavy drinking by everyone on the bus besides the driver, the owners of the Alamo and I commenced.
As the trip dragged on, enthusiasm waned. Reaching Underwood Texas, the group began to circle around looking for a restaurant known for its cobbler. Running out of ideas, we stopped at a fireworks stand and someone yelled out "We're looking for the cobbler place! The place with the cobbler!" luckily they didn't attack the bus, knew what the hell we were looking for and gave perfect directions. I have never seen the word "cobbler" as many times as I did in that restaurant.
Reaching the drive-in, we found we had missed "Smoky and the Bandit", but were in time to watch "Death House". It was a beautiful evening, the cloudless sky allowing us to see the stars, and a couple of shooting stars shot overhead. That is, unless you were one of the 99% of people present that were freezing their asses off. I was as comfortable as I have ever been outside, but everyone else was hunched over citronila candles or huddled together for warmth.
After "Death House" was a ultra-soft-core movie of Pinocchio, in which something besides his nose grows when he was unfaithful. "Lady Terminator" was the highlight of the evening, featuring the worst rip offs of every Arnold Schwarzenegger cliche in the history of mankind. Oh, and the worst mullet ever, being sported by the "American" character named Snake, who spends the movie smoking weed and yelling "ROCK AND ROLL".
On the drive back, the bus was a lot quieter, defeated as they were by the experience. I've been trying to get in touch with Dante since then but I think he's terrified of what else I might inflict upon him.
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Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Cecil's introduction to Shiatzu |2:49 PM| I was at Portal's apartment, nursing my healing back last night, when she mentioned that she might be able to help through the use of Shiatzu massage.
She said that her father was familiar with the technique, and had also had the same back issues I was experiencing. He had taught her the proper treatment but warned that it would be painful. Willing to give it a try I lay on my stomach, and learned just how loudly I could yell in suprise.
Portal was mashing her fists into the small of my back, pressing deep into the muscles, and not relenting despite the choked "URRRRAAAAA!" noises that I was producing. After a few moments of this, she asked me if it had stopped hurting. Suprised to note a distinct reduction in pain I replied that yes, it seems to have gotte OH MY CHRIST FUCKING LORD AAAAAAAAAAARG
Over the yells that I was worried might get the cops called, "Someone is killing a sissy with a cheese grater in the apartment above me!", I heard Portal saying to her roommate:
"Wow, it's just like dad said! One area would stop hurting, then I'd need to move half an inch up and start again, and that he was going to yell even louder when I did it!"
I managed to shut my mouth, but occasionally I would be forced to flail like a bug speared by the pencil of the almighty.
When it was over, I stood up, and found myself able to straighten. Medicinal agony. Thanks, Portal. I'll let you be the one to relocate my shoulders if that ever needs to be done.
Labels: Mariko
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Monday, June 14, 2004
Oooh. Naked people. |11:37 AM| Portal and I were going back to her apartment after the play last night, Wendy's combos in hand, when ancient instincts and senses awoke inside of me. Thousands of years of recent evolution had made me capable of detecting something very important, with clear survival skill impact. Bare tits in my immediate vicinity. I said out loud to Portal, as she was unlocking the door, "Hey, those people are naked!"
This is not to say I'm one of those tit-obssesed cavemen, whose only vocabulary consists of the word "WOOOO!" while gesturing with beer. But unexpected nudity is a strange surprise, and the excitement is not so much sexual, but of seeing something you should not.
Protip: When it is dark outside, and the lights are on inside, you will not be able to see through your window. Do not assume this means that the window is just as opaque-seeming from the other side.
Especially when you are naked, and brushing your teeth.
She turned to look across the apartment complex, to where a neighbor was perfoming various acts of hygiene wearing only a small thong, in a brightly lit apartment, with the shades wide open. We entered Portal's apartment and peered through the mini-blinds in the most suspicious way possible.
Me: "Think we should tell them?"
Portal: "Yeah, at the very least it'll be an excuse to meet the new neighbors."
She began to leave, when I said "Wait a second..." and then went back to leering through the shades. After the expected and corrective jab was delivered to my ribs, Portal approached the apartment and knocked on the door. I debated going out onto the porch so that I would be clearly seen eating a hamburger and waving by the naked woman, when it was pointed out just how visible she was. I debated for too long, and Portal came back. She'd let the boyfriend know.
I ran to the bedroom, hoping for some kind of comic scene of robe-throwing on and hasty shade pulling. I pulled back the shades, just as the robed woman was approaching her own window, and...just as Portal turned on the bedroom lights.
For the time it takes for the brain to send the "HIDE YOU DUMB BASTARD" signal, I was lit up and visible to the once-naked-now-robed woman, peering through shades, and I might as well have written "VOYEURISTIC PERVERT" in neon on the window.
In conclusion, unexpected breasts can liven up any dinner. Even if the drive through fucks up your order.
"Goddammit, I told 'em no fucking cheese."
Labels: Mariko
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The problem with explaining things to my Ma |12:31 AM| I could be honest with my mother, that I haven't called her back because I was too sick, too depressed, and too busy to really deal with spending time with the family. But this answer, though honest, would not end the conversation. Instead, it would prolong it, into a tortuous ordeal of Salem-esque questioning.
"Why are you depressed?"
"Are you going to kill yourself?
"Are you gay?"
"Did you break up with Portal?"
"Did you kill someone?"
"Are you sure you aren't gay?"
I'm not exaggerating, these are actual past questions. Along with "Are you drinking too much" and "Are you gambling too much". The questions sound far funnier when I quote them, because I'm in the horrid habit of imitating my mother in only the most shrill tone of voice.
Now, I love my mother. And she loves me, and these questions are her way of showing she cares. However, due to this kind of "attention" I now have nearly unlimited patience for nagging.
Portal was amazed that I never, ever complained or accused her of being naggy. She expected it to come up at some point, since even in her own opinion she could be a little insistent. Seeing as I had a graduate degree in being pestered, she was simply outgunned. In the rock throwing fight that is "gentle reminders", my mom is an atomic weapon.
(0) comments
Some random thoughts that don't deserve their own post. |12:00 AM| While alternating between a Wendy's Frosty and a large rootbeer:
Cecil: *BEEEEEELLLLCH*
Portal: Lovely.
Cecil: Is this turning you on?
Cecil: (In a poor imitation of Portal's voice) "OH YES, PLEASE RAVAGE ME YOU HEAVENLY SLOB!"
I've renamed the trouble ticket queue at work. It is no longer the Printer-Tech queue. It is now the Pantheon Of Agony.
Just saw the last night of Ladee Leroy's play here in town. Damn good stuff, and as a compliment, emotionally draining. I hope her career takes off even more, she's a nice funny lady. The set this time was more elaborate and impressive. I think I prefer the old set though, if only because it had my name and web address spray painted on one of the walls.
Labels: LadeeLeroy, Mariko, Work
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Saturday, June 12, 2004
Mutter |8:11 PM| It's always a drag when you wake up and see that it's 7 on the clock, and right as you start feeling good about the whole day being available you realize it's 7pm. Whoops.
Portal and I stayed up way too late last night watching movies, and she got a call this morning asking her to come into work early. Figures. They apparently need 300 cream pies made, and I wonder if despite the cost and time needed to make them if they're all just going to be thrown at people.
I drove her into work, headed home, and crashed out in bed. I was laid out from illness this friday anyhow, so it was probably my body recovering from that. (I can just hear Vid humming "Down with the sickness" if only as an excuse to make that Wah-ah-ah-ah noise).
Since the new car project has been delayed due to my negotiator leaving town for a week, this week I'll contact that machine shop so I can finally "go to prototype" on my invention. Seriously. I have their phone number, rates and everything. I'll have a large number of fantastically dangerous magnets in my house within the month. If I am found impaled against my fridge, crucified by tiny objects, know that it was for the best.
We're arranging the Vegas trip today, Vorpal and the rest of us, I mean. Should be interesting, turns out some bad ass folks whose names likely mean nothing to the average reader (Finagler, LTBS) are showing up. I wonder if LolitaHunterMachiavelliX will make an appearance? Doubtful.
I need to go get my camera back from Poker-Host Joe.
(0) comments
Monday, May 31, 2004
Goddamn Vorpal I'm not calling it Saddam Cecil |12:31 AM| How do I explain the seven and a half foot tall painting in my living room?
This story starts out a semester ago.
My girlfriend was in the first painting class of the year at her college. She, along with her classmates, were brainstorming for/discussing ideas for paintings to be done that year. One of my girlfriend's ideas was a painting of the Joseph Campbell "Hero with a thousand faces", a painting with as generic a hero figure as possible. Joseph Campbell's book outlined the repeating themes of the archetypal hero, using examples of several culture's big hero/messiah myths.
The class loved the idea, and agreed that any such painting would have to be big in order to impress people. How big? Oh, about seven and a half feet tall.
About halfway through the semester or so, she starts work on this project. Where, oh where, can I find a guy willing to model for this painting, someone willing to sit still for long amounts of time? Oh, perhaps that guy I'm dating!
Her: "I just need you to model. I'll make the face generic"
Me: "That's good, I was going to insist on that"
A couple months of work later, she tells me of the problem, that she can't change the face and make it look right. The angle of the subject's face is such that she can't quite alter it and not make it look really weird. She's also running out of time before the critique of the work, so it continues to be re-altered back to looking like me.
No problem, I think. She's got time.
I want to make something perfectly clear, my girlfriend is not out of her mind, she's far saner than just about all of the folks with whom I associate. With this warning, I suppose you know where the story is going.
As the critique approaches, she tells me she's given up, the rest of the painting needs more work so she can't change the face anymore. There are too many details that are problematic on the rest of the painting, like the horse's hooves.
Oh, did I not mention that? It's an equestrian painting. The hero is on a horse. With a sword.
me: "Oh hell, if the damn thing still looks like me, people are going to think I'm an egomaniac and you're an obsessed stalker!"
Her: "I know, I know, but luckily no one knows what you look like. With any luck no one will ever know it's you"
This presents a problem as I meet friends of hers from the painting class. "Hey there! You look awfully familiar! Have I seen you somewhere?" (What the hell am I going to say "Oh, yes you have, but the last time you saw me I was seven feet tall and giving you a welcoming gesture from the back of a goddamn HORSE)
The semester ends, the painting has been critqued, and the studio is closing. A place must be found to store the monument my girlfriend has made, and my apartment is the only one big enough to store the painting that still looks an awful lot like me. That's right, I now have a seven and a half foot tall painting of me in my living room. Luckily, it's just on loan, it still belongs to the artist.
"I can't keep that in the living room! I could only show it to people if I was going to fire them or invade their tiny neighboring country!"
What the hell am I supposed to do with a gargantuan, equestrian painting that just happens to look like me? I'm not THAT much of an egomaniac, and my girlfriend is quite far from crazy and obsessed with me, so those are not the impressions I want to give to visitors.
Do not get me wrong, I love this painting. I really don't have the proper words to describe how...flattering? Stunning? it all is. It just makes my living room more complicated.
The picture
Labels: Favorite, Mariko, Vorpal
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Monday, May 24, 2004
Please don't make that face while driving |3:09 PM| I was driving along with Portal the other day, and I was experiencing the weird drug induced anger I've been fighting for the past couple weeks. It tends to show itself more often in the car, as most other drivers are, to be honest, the worst human beings who have ever been born.
A greater number of them than usual were demonstrating just how much they needed to be converted into a protein paste, to be used for feeding of endangered birds so that their pathetic lives would have some purpose and meaning besides simply getting in my fucking way.
It was only when Portal asked me to stop "Making that face" and I asked "What face?" through gritted teeth that I realized I was making a face at all. The whole time I'd been driving, my eyes had been wide open, my cheeks stretched out, and my lips had been yanked across my clenched teeth. A good poker face, I do not have. But I wonder how many people had seen me.
Also, comments.
Since the blogger comment system was pissing me off, I'm trying a new comment system. Wow, you even get to use anonymous commenting, if you so wish.
Please try it out, you don't have to sign your real name, and I want to make sure it works. If something breaks, I've pissed you off, or whatever, let me know via the comments.
If you've read the post, or liked the post, please let me know on the comment screen as well.
Edit: I keep forgetting to post this.
It's that goddamn dancing banana that Vorpal loves, but from the color it is you can ascertain the current US terror alert level! This is fantastic.
Speaking of terror alert level, try this fun Propaganda game. There's a couple times when they put a more political spin on what happened to some celebrities (Like Michael Moore and Howard Stern), and it is 100% anti-bush propaganda, but give it a shot.
Also:
This fellow is using the bluetooth capabilities of his cellphone as a way to get online with his laptop. Though I do not have a laptop, I do have a handheld, one that supports bluetooth. The idea of a $10 a month flat fee that would free me from T-mobile or one of those other wallet plunderers is exciting.
Labels: Broken Links, Drugs, Fixed, Mariko
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Friday, May 21, 2004
The place could use some cheering up. |9:14 AM| The other evening Portal and I went to Kyoto, a Japanese restaraunt with traditional seating arrangements (as in, barefoot, on the floor, on mats. It was a damned good restaraunt, with damn good sushi, but it was damned hard on my white devil legs.
After Portal and I left, we made our way to the parking garage through a small park area. It was a square niche in the side of a skyscraper, about the size of an apartment. They had planted trees and covered the soil with metal, and indirect lighting fixtures. The first thought that crossed my mind was "concrete forest" followed by "How do they water this?". It was the coldest attempt I had seen to bring an air of life to an office complex, hidden around a corner. I tugged Portals arm and we went into our swing dance routine.
"1,2,3 1,2,3 turn."
I'm proud of my tuck turn, and I was happy to be able to perform it with her.
Labels: Mariko
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Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Tools and what have you |1:11 PM| Vorpal has now learned why I fucking hate curtains, and curtain rods. He apparently spent several hours this past weekend drilling holes into his walls trying to get his rods level.
I have in the past spelled out my hatred of curtains and curtain rods, to which Portal has always expressed dismay and confusion. This is part of an ongoing debate about my house and the miniblinds. Portal agrees that though they are functional, they are ugly, and that I should think about installing some curtains to brighten the place up.
My counter argument is that I would rather have someone break one of my fingers than ever put up curtain rods again. Much less, installing curtain rods over multiple windows, especially in a house in which I would not be spending the rest of my life.
On the same front, I picked up a new, neato rubber mallet. My other mallet was lost in a move at some point, and I needed a replacement, which gave me ample chance to buy a "dead head" mallet. I didn't think you could improve on the technology of "barrel shaped object on handle" but they have done so. With the use of what sounds like sand, the mallet does not bounce back when it strikes something. It's hard to describe how cool this is, you have to try it for yourself. Portal did not understand my childlike glee at hitting stuff until she experienced the joy of rebound-less mallet striking.
I bring this up because I need the mallet to install the giant blue rack Portal has been trying to find a replacement for, as it is atrociously ugly. I am in agreement with this, but nothing beats a Metro-Cart for functionality.
Bad Referrals from the referal logs (Items people searched for on Google and got TPL).
"he made me suck the dog's ass"
"Sulzanti"
"GeekyGrrl"
"Zusty and JP"
"olsen twins fan fiction"
"Rodian Tits"
"How to hack Computers"
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Monday, May 17, 2004
Giant Boomerang |3:22 AM| Edited a bit for mostly spelling issues. I left the really bad ADHD signs in there.
Do you recall "bumper stumpers"? Goddamn, that was a stupid goddamn show.
Portal and I went out to the field near the apartment I had to leave last week on 36 hours notice. It had been mowed, and I had a chance to show her what an ant hill looks like during "mating day". But ants were not why we were out there, we were throwing the boomerang.
I was throwing well enough that I pulled on a work glove and tried to catch the damn thing on a return pass, but I couldn't quite pull it off. Practice, practice. Also, we brought out this monstrous, crimson "Spalding Classic" boomerang that I bought for 8 bucks right before Portal gave me my current nice one. The difference between the 8 dollar one and the nice, $20-30 one was shocking. We couldn't even get the red one to turn around during flight. It did make a great noise as it left your hand, though. The damn thing was so heavy that during the throw a horrid "Thwoo...Thwooo" noise was produced, like the air itself was yelling and dodging out of the way. Here is an image of me posing stupidly. Please note the sweat had weighed down my hair. Pictured is the nice boomerang with its slightly...jubilant color scheme. I like it, I just wouldn't bring it into a bar with me.
I'm still messing around on OKcupid. This one chick I was talking to suddenly changed her pictures around, and the "seeing someone, but still friendly" vanished from her profile. From her messages, it became even more clear that she'd broken up with her boy toy. Problem was, her new pictures made her strongly resemble this chick I'd stopped talking to ages ago in less than ideal circumstances. Why was this a problem? Because I couldn't show Vorpal the chick's profile without him implying that she looked just like previously mentioned girl.
Anyhow, today he was bitching about not finding anyone, and I happened to mention this chick. The first thing out he said to me after he looked at her profile was "These pictures remind me of [girl]."
After I explained that I knew he'd say that, there was much guffawing. Here's the chick in question
Here is
The Revolution will not be televised because I feel like it.
Labels: AGirl, Broken Links, Hobbies, Mariko
(3) comments
Monday, April 19, 2004
|2:54 AM| Dick is a killer: Tape loop parody song of George W. Bush speech. Fairly amusing in parts. I put it here because I wanted to download it at home, and found that the original host had taken it down. I assume other people might have had a similar problem, so here it is.
Sold books
I went to Half Price books on Sunday, carrying two big boxes of books. I was paid more cash than I expected, I bought some pulpish novels to read at work, and got rid of a whole lot of stuff that I won't have to carry when I move.
So why did I feel bad about it? Some of the books were gifts, some of them I'd had for years and years. I'd read my fill of them, though, and if I need them again I know where I can find them. I still felt kind of guilty about selling them, but I knew it to be an unreasonable feeling.
I told PortalStar that a couple of them were some of the best books-as-gifts I'd received as a child, and she replied that now hopefully some other child will get them and be just as excited.
I'll probably end up selling several more boxes of books, and that reminds me, I need to send Sinclair back his Dylan books. Speaking of Sinclair, let's all congratulate him on getting a job. HUZZAH.
Portal, Vid and I went Geocaching on Sunday. That was a fine outing, it's been a while since we've gone. The caches we found weren't all the exciting, but getting to them was very interesting. At one point, we had to construct a primitive bridge to cross a river that I estimated to be "Eh, looks like a foot or so deep." As it turned out, that was just how far down I could see, as when the bridge collapsed Vid found the actual depth to be several feet. We scared off a herd of turtles, and found a color changing lizard called an...oh crap. Annul? Anuol? I'll ask Vid.
At one point I had the choice of being educational or being a smart ass when the question of pollution and its effect on scenic areas.
Cecil: Speaking of, did you know that you can't read that Egyptian relic, Cleopatra's Needle they have in New York?
Portal: Oh? Why is that?
Cecil: Because it's written in fuckin' Egyptian!
But you don't have to take my word for it, take a look at this link!
bought robot
feel better
Linux machine STILL FUCKING DOWN
Buying that vase
Fark linked to pictoz.com again
Need to move the T-shirts
Labels: Broken Links, Geocaching, Mariko, Vid
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Friday, April 09, 2004
If you keep swearing like that, your tongue will freeze in that position |3:28 AM| I was nearly in a car accident yesterday. As PortalStar can attest, I'm a very safe driver, and I try to limit conversations on cellphones especially if I think the traffic is taking a turn for the worse. In some cases, I'll ditch the phone entirely without warning to the person I'm speaking to, which can worry some people.
Anyhow, I was driving down the road, trying to merge with the exit lane when this jackass kept speeding up to block me off from the lane. I had to speed up in order to exit, thanks to this guy, because I was rapidly running out of room on the road (Cars ahead of me were stopped by traffic). So Portal hears me start to curse, and then suddenly yell out "YOU DICKFACED SHITSTABBER" and a *click* as I dropped the phone. I called back to let her know I was alive, she hadn't been worried, but did warn me that if I kept swearing like that I was in danger of my last words on earth being something hideous like "Dick-faced shit stabber". She spaced it out a bit to make it sound as polite and scientific as possible.
Labels: Mariko
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Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Taking the fighting to the spammers...but first a nap. |8:39 AM| As I continue to forget to do stuff, like linking to all the Furry Fuzz movies (From when I was busted by sexual deviants for crashing their party), I also forget to do useful life stuff, like grocery shopping. And ordering robotics kits.
The last month or so has seen me sick 5 days out of each 7, and last night was not an exception. Portal picked up some kind of damn influenza, and I wonder if I'm coming down with it yet. I know I was working through a couple infections last week, and last night felt the same as then. Either way I was asleep until 6am today and so I didn't get the new UT or get my girlfriend to the grocery store. Sorry Portal.
I also forgot to post a thread on SA about a scriptable Wget, so I can relaunch my own damn website. One thing I realized is that I'm going to have to tighten security of this site a great deal. Such as, changing the primary site password (which the old system said couldn't be done, but c'mon guys, that's idiotic) cleaning out old email boxes, and basically battening down the hatches. If the relaunch goes to plan, I'll probably be attracting a lot of the wrong kinds of attention.
I may also have to switch to movable type for my blog here, which would be a shame. You folks wouldn't notice a difference, but I like the spellcheck here, though I've been using it less. Maybe I could hire Sinclair to copy edit for me. I think he'd stab me right in the face.
Labels: Drugs, Mariko, Sinclair
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Friday, March 12, 2004
American Zombie |8:27 PM| Portal had a great idea for a slasher movie. "Carne Diem"
Seize the Dead.
It'd have to be a very philosophical movie, Exploring such questions as "Why do we fight the zombies?" and "Are we not doomed to be just as dead and walking as they are?"
Between intense gunfights and such.
The other ideas I hashed out are in ICQ log form right now, I'm going to edit it up in a bit, so someone reading this doesn't have to deal with a damn chat log.
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Thursday, February 26, 2004
Cheatin' With The Pizzaworks |1:36 PM| Portal star, I have a confession. I've been seeing someone else. His name is Dave.
I know, I know how I said I had given him up, that I wasn't going to see him anymore, and that was true for several weeks. But soon, I couldn't get him off of my mind. I thought about his warm skin, how it was flaky.
How he was, frankly, delicious.
I've been back to see him, darling. Today at lunch in fact. Double Daves has a place up here, a modest retreat, and I saw him before noon.
Can you understand? Please, I hope you can.
Labels: Mariko
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The Three Mr. P's. Or something. |10:48 AM| Last night, I was delayed in going to Portal's house by my Past, some Pornography, and my Poppa. I had just told Portal I was leaving soon when a friend of mine sent me an AIM message showing me pictures of the current boyfriend of a former friend of mine. We remarked that his head looked kind of "smooshed". I think it's a medical term. Right after that, my dad (using my little sister's AIM client) sends me a message asking where his "f******* cookbook" was. Since the cookbook is mine, and I wasn't about to let my father self censor, I replied "You mean MY apeshitting, dogfucking cookbook?" I went on to use some other foul language when my dad, still sending messages on a pink background in a giant purple font, sent back "Don't try to impress me."
It stopped me in my tracks. Normally when on a cursing tear like that, nothing really slows me down. My dad managed to. When I explained this, he said "Thanks for the props, dog."
Ugh. At least he wasn't changing letters into numbers. At about this point, some random poster on a forum asked me if I still wanted pictures of a girl I had posted. I had posted a thread, in a pornographic context, asking "can you identify this chick?" with a bunch of pictures of chickens and ducks, also included were some random women from my webhosting. I went to the trouble of accepting his offering of a bunch of pictures of this girl. (I'd been using the image as a punchline to a bunch of rack related jokes recently)
Portal was only partially amused at my explanations as to why I was late. "You were late because you were downloading pornography?"
"Not for me! I was going to post it in this silly thread I made."
"Oh! So pornography for other people! You're getting picture for other people to jack off to? Isn't that kind of...gay?"
Labels: AGirl, Broken Links, Dad, Goons, Mariko
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Thursday, February 19, 2004
Damn this mortal body |12:13 PM| What a load of crap. I've picked up some infection that is making me feel like death warmed over. Spots on skin? No. Hemorrhaging? No.
Nothing to justify why I feel like this. It has sapped my energy, I feel cold despite my huge jacket, I'm shivering or shaking, and my balance is crap.
This is bullshit. The least this disease could do would be to give me something demonstrable, like a hacking cough or blood running out of my eyes. But no, the only visible symptom besides shivering is that my face "doesn't have any color".
Vid says, as a manager, if I can't do my job I should go home. Well, I'm capable of doing my job but I'm not happy, which isn't a job requirement. I'm just going to sit here, feeling like death warmed over and wonder why my immune system failed me. It better look like a goddamn pro-wrestling match in there, with anti-bodies and white blood cells hitting bacteria over the head with tiny chairs or something.
On a lighter note, Portal has stopped punching me in the belly when I start doing something that calls for punishment. Now she bites me. At one point, during an explanation of the "Chicks in prison" movie genre, I launched into a rant about how we're all prisoners...in our hearts! How we can't let our emotions jail us blah blah blah so Portal started gnawing on my skull.
"Your head won't fit in my mouth!" She exclaimed, clearly disappointed.
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Wednesday, February 18, 2004
PortalStar would like to say... |2:05 AM| Guest Speaker PortalStar:
Heeloo everyone it ist my 21st irthday and I am dvunk. I havbe theyy Brenceceil to hthank for that. And fados and red fexz but no t boyxz cellar because they cahrge cover. I am happy. I am intociscated. Have a happy one. Yes/.
-M.
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko, Pictures
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Friday, February 13, 2004
Tipping |12:48 PM| I might tip too much. Portal says that Miss Manners says that she knew this guy that exploded when he ate pop rocks and coke cola. Wait, ignore that. Portal says that Miss Manners says it's rude for counter workers to ask for tips, as they are not waiters and get full wages. Waiters/Waitresses are paid at a different, lower rate as tips are expected.
Well, dammit, I feel as though I should directly reward people for not spitting in my food or giving me small pox.
Also, when I was given a free movie at I Love Video, I called back to say "Thanks". While it seems strange to do, it apparently made that clerk's night a whole lot better. I was thanked more for thanking them.
Oh, what a good boy am I.
I dreamed that my friend Vorpal was dead, but I could see and talk to him. Our friend Rockstar Casey and I were the only ones who could. This led to problems when we'd be talking in a restaurant and the waitress would look at Casey and me like we were nuts.
Vorpal would bitch about us driving his car, but it's not like he could even open doors anymore. All he could do was bitch and and kind of move stuff a little. Generally we walked and drove around town discussing what this meant, and wondering if we were crazy, Vorpal most of all.
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Friday, December 26, 2003
Mushy Stuff |4:55 AM| Despite the all the family togetherness, the food, the presents and the general attitude of "Let's be nice to each other", the best part of this Christmas, to me, was a very sappy moment. Portal and I were curled up together on the couch at her parent's place, watching (but not intently) the first non-Christmas based show I could find.
Sitting there, our arms wrapped around each other, I could feel her body heat through her shirt, the subtle movements of her breathing, the motion of cloth against skin and bra strap. It was wonderful, to be sharing a time and place with someone you trust and love, to be at total ease. I was relaxed enough where I could appreciate the less complicated joys.
Mushy, Cliche'd, bah, to hell with worrying about it. I was hugging a loved one, who was hugging me back, and for a few minutes all was right in the world.
I suppose it helps that she got me the most advanced pogo stick I have ever seen in my life, but that's probably up to the poets.
Labels: Mariko
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Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Rebates? Next you'll say Santa Claus is real |12:46 AM| Hey, Symantec just sent me a rebate check. Took them 6 weeks, just like they said. Wow, rebates DO happen! I sent off for the rebate of $50 for upgrading from one version of Norton Utilities to the latest (this was back when I was fixing some issues on Portal's Macintosh) and whadda you know, they actually did what they claimed. They've certainly earned some additional loyalty from me.
Also, in a tremendously caveman moment, I failed at describing some Christmas lights to Portal as we were driving along. I noticed some pillars covered in bright red lights, creating a cone effect, and wanted to say how striking they were to me. Instead, I opened my mouth and said "reeeeeeeed".
Oops. My goddamn internal monologue went audible.
Labels: Mariko
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Tuesday, July 22, 2003
My wheelchair weighs 2 tons. |11:50 AM| I'm off the crutches, already. So much faster this time, than the last. I was back onto the foot as soon as possible, ignoring most of the pain, taking advil and icing it as need, and I healed more quickly. In injury situations, you might want to ask yourself "What would a hunter-gatherer do?". This is not an acceptable course of action for most other day-to-day events, such as interacting with the bank ("Stab with flint") or most doors in buildings ("Stab with bigger flint").
I still carry a crutch around, just in case the pain gets to be intolerable, but that's happening less and less now. PortalStar's cousins were still in town last night, along with one of their girlfriends. I used them to model pictoz.com shirts, so I finally have advertising material. With a price sheet, adverts, and almost some kind of plan, I'm ready to relaunch that goddamn site.
Last night, before we tried going to lasertag (Closed) then bowling (closed) then the arcade (Dorky, but succesful), Portal had us all try out some odd hair dyes and gels. It was amusing, and the hair styles we end up with were imaginative, if nothing else.
I look pretty swell with blue hair, but you can't tell from these image:
Blue Hair
Portal begins to doubt her cousin.
Doubtful
Portal's hair being dyed.
Dye Hair
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko, Pictures
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Sunday, July 20, 2003
The world was my wheelchair |1:46 PM| I went windsurfing with PortalStar this past saturday. It was quite amusing, and far harder than it looks. The speedboats throwing up chop did not help things, either. I was given the basic rundown on what to do, and I proceeded to get thrown from the board repeatedly. At one point, I was catapulted over the board, and the sail, by a sudden gust of wind. PortalStar and her father agreed that they had never seen anything quite like it before. I kept falling into the water, and hitting rocks, and at one point I went around the wrong side of the sail, only to have it stike my face quite hard. Reeling from the hit, I couldn't balance anymore and was pushed into the water immediately. Floating upside down, I realized I had to get back up to the surface or Portal's dad was going to think I was dead.
One thing about a windsurfing board, is that if the sail falls on you, it can be easy to panic if you try to come up underneath it. When I was much younger, I had been trapped under a raft while swimming, unable to surface. Because I had already felt that kind of panic at a young age, I'm much more comfortable when stuck like that. Sure, it's not fun, but you've got every other direction to go to free yourself.
My windsurfing came to an end, suddenly, when the board tipped up and I slid straight down into the water, hitting a rock with one foot, but not the other. All of my weight twisted my ankle violently, and I was thrown into the location know by its scientific name "Hurt Locker". Dragging myself back to the board (Once my brain had stopped vacationing in "White hot pain land" I gripped the board and relaxed for a bit. Signalling to Portal and her father, I let them know I was out of commision. I spent as much time in the water as possible, as it support my leg. I floated back around to the area of the beach where we were sitting, and told Portal to continue surfing without me. The whole lake was supporting me, and my leg. The world was my wheelchair, and it was comforting, despite the pain.
After the beach, we went to Walgreens and rented crutches. Once again, I'm riding gimp sticks. Luckily, my legs were not needed for eating Sushi:
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Friday, July 18, 2003
She digs the villians |12:46 PM| PortalStar related to me recently about how she finds herself attracted to the villians in movies, never the hero. She did clarify that it was only the more grandiose, stylish villians, not the truly evil and despicable ones. At that point we started to review the traits I share with your typical, over-the-top villian.
I'm not often beaten or defeated, I'm usually "Foiled".
As a follow up to the previous statement, I often yell "CURSES" and sometimes I mean it.
All my ideas quickly turn into absurdly complicated schemes to perform some task. ("Let's build a shipping company out of giant blimps in order to make the roads safer!"),
My superiority complex and corresponding ego (Which I am keeping in check most of the time)
And of course, my involuntary and frightening cackle.
I'm still classified as a good guy, but I've still got a bunch of the "bad guy" traits. Apparently, my habit of "Steepling" my fingers (holding them tip to tip, palms apart) is a very villian-esque action.
I'll try to get a recording of my cackle again, but it's never as good when I try to do it on cue.
Labels: Mariko
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Sunday, July 13, 2003
|12:28 AM| Helluva weekend. This whole week has been incredible. Work is getting harder, but PortalStar and I have been having a blast. She seemed to dig geocaching, so hopefully tomorrow we'll be going with Vid when we hit some new spots. I was helping her with her website (which is not yet up) on Friday afternoon, and goddamn did I get useless. She has a bed, which is something I still personally lack. I stretched out across it, buried myself in fine linen, and became a breathing lump of lazy. She'd ask me for opinions and I'd move at the speed of mammal evolution in order to view the screen, discuss it with her, and make a suggestion. The moment there was a load progress bar or a restart, I'd turn back into part of the bed at the speed of light.
Finally getting all the images judged, I was able to nap until it was time for Vorpal's brother's 21st birthday party. I was invited because I'm a friend, and also because I am keeper of "Molly" a beer tap. Helpful thing to have around. It had been lent around the block recently, and thus was in someone else's possesion that night. I had to sneak into an apartment complex, jump on to a patio, and then....politely knock on the window because the people living there were home. (I thought they weren't going to be there). I'm glad I didn't get shot. After that rescue mission, we headed to the party.
The party is worth its own entry, so it's below this entry, despite being chronologically later.
Labels: Mariko
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Wednesday, June 18, 2003
Tiny buckets of joy |12:48 AM| How's this for a turn of a events? Portal and I were incredibly close to being finished tuning the violin. Its poorly made pegs were held in by pressure against the wood of the frame. This meant you had to pull them out, tune, then jam them back in very hard, making precise tuning a bitch and a half. Right as I was making the last fine adjustments to the last string, the cheap plywood bridge stapped in two and flew across the room, nearly jabbing out my eye on the way. Not only was 40 minutes of difficult tuning down the toilet, but now the insturment requires repair.
PortalStar superglued the bridge components back together, but I don't know how well it's going to hold up when we put it back on. At least I learned a little about playing the flute, and managed to produce sounds that were nearly musical.
Things for which Portalstar Punched me:
1.She mentioned the tragic story of a girl raised by two mentally retarded women here in Austin. The girl had grown up in a closet, and apparently spoke to rats. At least, that was the gist of it I got from Portal, she apparently concentrated on the rat side of things too much. When portal said that she couldn't remember the girl's name, I helpfully suggested it might be
"*chittering noise...Eeek!". Strength of punch: medium. Degree of anger: Medium->high. I was also punched for suggesting I hire the rat girl to train an army of loyal rat soldiers to do my bidding.
2. I was explaing the role of royal jelly in the development of bee larvae. Portal said that she used royal jelly under her eyes, as it is apparently good for the skin. When the subject of how one goes about aquiring enough royal jelly to fill even a small container, I began to sing "The world owes me a living" while mimicing the act of milking a tiny udder. I went on to describe the large bee farms someone must keep, and how the buckets are very tiny. "Milking BEEEEEES"
Strength of punch: very low.
Labels: Mariko
(0) comments
Monday, June 16, 2003
This is the worlds shittiest violin player, playing just for my grandma |3:20 PM| Portal owns a violin, bought through mail order. It is, according to her, not the best violin in the world. Her parents didn't pay for classes, and then wondered why she didn't improve, or stick with it. She has told me not to belittle the violin in public, as she's afraid it might upset her parents.
As you may or may not recall, reader person, I love the violin. I may have mentioned on this blog about how after (or even before) piano lessons as a kid, I would sneak around the building in order to listen to the other kids play the violin. I was told during high school by the music teacher that she would be unable to teach a trumpet player the violin. I still haven't the slightest idea why. At the time this was quite a roadblock, as neither I nor my parents had the cash to pay for paying for lessons for a musical instrument. Especially since I sucked ass at school at the time.
What this comes down to is I finally have access to a violin without renting or purchasing it, and I have free time during the week. The debate has become to take guitar or violin lessons. I'm not going to pay money to learn the blasted didjeridu if I can possibly avoid it. It's a plastic tube for crying out loud. Back to the subject at hand, violin, or guitar? Also, diligent readers of this blog will make side bets of "How long will he remain interested in this current pursuit?". If my father hadn't taken his guitar back I might still be building calluses.
More sad news. My Grandmother (the non dead one) is in the hospital. She's already had her gall bladder removed in the last 3 days. I didn't even think humans still had a gall bladder that was removable, but since I've also heard of "Gall stones" it's clear I just never gave gall bladders much thought. Gall in general is something I only considered while reading Hamlet, and wondering about the livers of pigeons.
My grandmother is at this point, quite demented. To the point that my father recovered a $6000 check just by cleaning the living room of her house, and that she has stopped listening to any legal advice from the people she pays for such information. This means that her estate, as it stands, is going to vanish almost entirely into the coffers of the U.S. Government upon her death, which could be quite soon.
I feel awfully sorry for my father, he had to drive to Murray, Kentucky to clean up the affairs of his now dying mother. I see it as the inevitable, especially with her decline over the past few years. I'm sure it certainly isn't like that for my dad. This is one of those few times I'm just not sure how my dad feels. He's probably losing himself in the tasks at hand, the cleaning of the house, the anger of dealing with finances, the paper associated with removing his mother's control over her own life... He's quiet when things like this are occurring. I wonder at what point he taught me to lose myself in the work of foul moments, that the responsbilities of the mundane tasks were a kind of freedom, as they were a logical response to events with no other possible "reasonable" reaction.
Back to comedy sooner or later, I'm sure. Lizards, Grandmothers, bad music. Give me a bit of time here, folks.
(0) comments
Thursday, May 29, 2003
This post is supposed to be me gushing and being cute. |11:35 AM| Edited that post two below this one for some more details. Feel free to read it. Oh, and I fixed the last couple images in the last one.
Attempting to nap while curled up in the arms of someone else is wonderfully challenging. After a couple long nights and a shopping trip that took me all over town, I just wanted to catch a few winks last night. At the time, I happened to be at Portal's new place, and I mumbled something about "Just a quick second" before crashing down atop her bed like a slain giant. Moments later, Portal realized that if I was allowed to sleep, it would take a cataclysm to wake me back up. She proceeded to grab my shoulders and start bouncing me against the bed saying "Cooooookies! We were going to bake cookies!". It was cute, but ineffective, as I have slept through much worse, sometimes at the risk of my job.
Giving up, she curled up with me, and was a wonderful addition to my attempt to sleep, however certain logistical issues came up. When you're trying to sleep, you're trying to stay still. So if you have an elbow planted on your arm and your head is at a funny angle, you have to move it. Studies could be done about the proper, most comfortable ways to tangle legs together, but Portal and I manage. I'll keep an eye on the scientific journals for "Cuddle Physics" but they seem to just be working on "Laser Cooling" and other boring crap like that.
Just as an aside, I accidently head-butted her when getting out of bed later, and for a second I thought I'd broken her nose. She's okay, and if it makes you the reader feel better, she hit me with a very strong elbow months back. I found a particular knot in her back during a backrub, and her elbow twitched backwards into my face. Such a helpless feeling, seeing a strike about to land and knowing your hands are not in a position to block it, so you just stare at the hit until it lands. "Uh oh".
Labels: Mariko
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Sunday, May 11, 2003
The chicken caper |4:06 PM| You know how I said I'd edit this to include pictures? Well I left the damn pictures in PortalStar's dorm room because I'm an idiot.
I got attacked by a chicken, kind of.
I was at a petting zoo at a hotel and a rooster got loose
I followed it, a security guard, and a desk guy followed it with me. We tried to corner it a couple times, but despite having a brain the size of a pencil eraser, it was adept at getting away.
At one point we had it cornered under a desk. We had the little bastard.
And so Mr. Chicken sees:
A security guard, hardened by several brutal rate disputes, desperate for combat.
A front desk jockey, fully misanthropic, praying for the death of customers or himself.
...and some jack ass in a polo shirt and khakis saying "Here rooster rooster rooster!"
He charged me, the least threatening, from under the desk. He bonked me in the forehead on his way by, and try to slip around me in the confusion.
I had my hands on him as he scuttled by, but I didn't want to break his widdle wings.
His cute, widdle chicken wings.
So I let go, and he ran past me.
That's when it gets even weirder.
This little kid had been watching from a distance. In his hand he was carrying a small leaf, delicately pinched between two fingers. When the rooster made a break for it, he walks right up to it. Instead of running, the bird freezes in place.
The kid walks up, taps the rooster with the leaf, and says "I gotchoo wooster! I gotchooo now!"
At this point, said rooster just stands there for the guard to pick him up.
I have no idea why the 2 volt brain of the rooster decided that the tiny waddling kid was a safe thing, or why it decided to hang around after being tapped gently with a leaf. However, he was soon back behind bars.
Here is a cute picture of a rabbit that I was holding.
Labels: Broken Links, Mariko, Mom, Pictures
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Friday, May 09, 2003
Brilliant Ideas and broken power supplies |1:35 AM| Cecil: Surge hits the fuse, POP and the supply is dead. Poor SHODAN.
PortalStar: oops heh. I forgot my oreo in the milk and it became oreo mush
Cecil: I'm not going to open that damn thing up. Power supplies are like monitors. Big fucking capacitors just waiting to kill you.
PortalStar: will it be ok if you replace the fuse?
Cecil: Yeah, dangerous as hell
Cecil: safer to just purchase a new power supply.
PortalStar: somene should make an oreo sogginess meter
Cecil: hahahaha. Like that fat meter thing?
Cecil: The two tongs?
PortalStar: I was thinking more along the lines of a meat doneness probe
PortalStar: but that could work too. You wouldn't have to poke a hole in the cookie
Cecil: On a scale of rock to liquid...
Cecil: with mush being the mid point
PortalStar: yeah, and it like *beeps* when it's donee
PortalStar: I guess tongs would work because the girth of the tong space would be proportional to the softness of the cookie.
PortalStar: You might get some cookie squishage, though.
Cecil: Perhaps a sonic device then?
Cecil: So physical contact isn't needed?
PortalStar: that would be perfect~!
PortalStar: that wouldn't heat up the milk now, would it?
Cecil: Nah. Just a single pulse.
Labels: Mariko
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Thursday, May 08, 2003
|10:55 AM| I've never seen anyone make a comment "Without skipping a beat" before. Portal and I were discussing what to do with our evening, and a song reminded her of the movie Shrek. I said I hadn't seen it, and suggested we rent and watch it. Her reply was that she'd seen it half a dozen times already. When I suggested "Maybe we could swing by the arcade and play Time Crisis 3" as a joke, Portal did not even pause long enough for a breath before saying "Shrek sounds like a perfect idea!"
We ended up watching Shrek.
I'm a dorky gamer, but I do try my best to keep Portal amused. She has apparently noticed my...chivalrous gaming nature. I suppose that I wouldn't be dating her if she wasn't smart as hell, so I shouldn't be suprised that she notices my behavior.
Example, when playing "House of the Dead", I'll make sure she's still in the game by paying for extra lives when she isn't looking.
Portal: "I noticed what you were up to, 'Oooh, nice shot [Portal]!' as you quietly slip another quarter into the machine!"
She is a good shot though, at blasting zombies.
Labels: Mariko
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