Its Good to be Back

Drat, Cam managed to post twice in a row. I thought we had a mutual agreement of laziness. Oh well. Coincidentally, I am also home for the week, and can attest to the frigidity of his mother and his house. (Although she made me dinner so I can't really complain).

Anyways, I flew home to Andover from Pittsburgh, and before we even left the tarmac it was like being home. A large bearded man clad in Boston paraphernalia strolled onto the flight just as I had sat down. He immediately sniffed around (detecting the aroma of McDonald's) and exclaimed "Alright, who's got the fries? I'm wicked hungry!"

I chuckled to myself, reveling in the pure Massachusetts air this man gave off. In a mood of benevolence I called to him "I don't have any fries but I've got some pop-tarts." He turned lightning quick (forcing the people around him to take seats they weren't planning on taking). "Strawberry?" He asked. "You know it," I called back. I tossed him the package, and through the grunts and tearing of plastic I could hear "Oh god yes, they're frosted."

*Sniff. Brought a tear to my eye. I missed you Massachusetts.

It's Cold

Well, I hadn't expected to be posting much while I'm on break, and yet here I am. It's been lovely so far, I've slept 12 hours both nights and gorged myself on homemade food. However, I figured that by coming back to Andover I would be escaping the frigid conditions that have been such a mainstay of my college life. However, yesterday the wind chills were down in the teens, and today seems only a little better. Worsening the situation is the fact that my mother, dear to me as she is, has gone a little crazy in the time that I've been gone, and my house now resembles an igloo. At night, she sets the thermostat at 52°, and 57° during the day. Neither of these temperatures are in the least bit warm. I went to sleep last night in a sweatshirt, flannel pajama pants, and woolen socks, and utilized two additional blankets. I've decided that people get to a certain age, and suddenly start having these bizarre ideas that they are convinced are brilliant, not unlike the decision-making that plagues some of my college acquaintances late Saturday nights (Dude! Why has no one ever tried eating pizza in the shower before? It makes it so much better!). The difference is, adults have the means to turn some of their odder ideas into realities, like when a certain father of mine decided that he was a capable electrician and started drilling in a manner that resulted in a plume of water erupting under my desk, to my considerable consternation. Anyway, I'm going to go find a blanket so I can watch the Pats game shiver-free.

Poor Tom

Sadly, I can't compete with a story like that. But I will, of course, try. This did happen just today, though I'm not sure if I can do it justice, seeing as I'm not positive exactly what happened:

Three doors down (yes, like the band) from me live Corey and Tom. They are very well suited towards each other; both are staunch republicans, smoke cigars, usually wear dress shirts and slacks, have stock investments, and the like. Very nice guys. Anyway, Tom can frequently be found on conference calls with people, and is frequently sent free things by both Microsoft and Apple for testing he does for them. He's bizarrely smarter in the field of computers than any 18 year-old should be. So today he's been quite depressed, because his former employees stole his plan for... something, and have made thousands. It's some website that he had dreamed up, and without telling him several people who used to work for him started it up. Apparently they're poised to make a million dollars in four years or something truly outrageous like that. I did not know that this happened at all in real life, let alone to college freshmen. My problems generally involve exams, convincing my DVD player to work, and trying to get better at basketball, not corporate intrigue. Gives things a little perspective, eh?

Anyhoo, I'm heading back to my homeland tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and I'm not sure how much I'll be posting over break. Have a nice weekend!

Pork Fried or Steamed?

Chinese food is delicious. This is a story chronicling my quest for Grove City Chinese food.

There is a Chinese food monopoly in Grove City, with Victor Lee being the only provider. He is said to be descended from General Tso himself. Fueled by such stories, my roommate Tim and I skipped out on a goofy semi formal dance to go and snag the late night discount.

As we walk in, it becomes evident that there is something unique to the atmosphere: the restaurant's decor is similar to an eccentric old ladies living room. The tables are scattered around haphazardly, and joined by a couch, a treadmill, and a TV playing Chinese soap operas right in the middle of the floor. Also what is clearly the family PC is set up on one of the booth tables. (This explains the "Free WiFi" sign).

We were waited upon by what looked like the matron of the family, and sat down to wait for our food. It eventually came, delivered by the eponymous Victor Lee. He is only around 5'1" but seems determined to make for height with enthusiasm. He made confusing small talk while repeatedly offering to set us up with a back room Texas hold'em game. Eventually he just sat down next to me and continued to chat. Victor then proceeded to get us free drinks and donuts (Chinese donuts?) which more than makes up for any possible poker hustling he may have had planned. He then began to give us in-depth microwave instructions for how to prepare our food after it had gotten cold. He seemed very experienced with heating up old Chinese food (Ignorance is bliss?).

As we eventually moved to pay him, he kindly rounded our meal down a few dollars, and just as we were about to leave, he said, "Do you two want a ride back to the college?" Tim looked astonished so I quickly answered yes before he could think of a logical objection. He told us to meet him around back. Tim and I made our way to the back of the restaurant to find Victor waiting with his beat up Nissan rice burner awaiting us. Tim hopped in front and I in the back. Any shotgun privileges were soon overshadowed by the addition of six or seven boxes of food on his lap.

For the next few minutes we assisted Victor Lee in delivering Chinese food to the more sketchy inhabitants of Grove City. Between every stop Victor would call the customer on his cellphone and ask him or her to meet him at the "usual place." The customers were surprised, I think, to have their food handed to them by a six foot three white freshman rather than our friend Victor. After a few stops we were back at our dorm. Victor sighed with nostalgia, "My best customer lived on your floor." We bid Victor farewell, thanked him, and walked into our dorm, smelling of Rangoon and MSG.

General Tso (Or possibly Victor Lee) and His Chicken

Got Flies In My Lights!

My bed is considerably lofted, leaving my head only a couple of feet diagonally from the main light for our room. As I was lying there reading a couple of nights ago, my attention was drawn to the number of black specks resting at the bottom of the light. These had been pointed out to me before, and I was told that they were insects. But last night I really pondered the situation. How did these bugs get a) into my room, where I have never seen a fly, or b) into the actual lighting fixture, which upon close inspection seemed quite airtight. I proposed this question to a friend, who responded that those were not actual insects, but rather larvae. This satisfied me for a time, until it occurred to me that larvae have no more a way to get into my light than their adult counterparts. As with the previous post, any explanations are welcome in the "response" section.

Recommendations for the day:
DO reread To Kill A Mockingbird. I did so last week, and it made me very happy.
DO NOT get into existential debates with drunk people. Not at all as amusing as you'd think.
DO listen to my radio show, 3-5 Tuesdays. Although next week I'll be on break and not DJing.
DO NOT do as I did and come to school in upstate NY without a ski jacket.
DO listen to the band Stars. A friend gave me a CD a while back, and I listened to it all the way through yesterday. Very artsy and cool.
DO NOT type like my friend Ethan, who missed a lesson somewhere along the way, and now instead of using the shift key like the rest of us, turns the caps lock function on and off every time he wishes to capitalize something.

Illogical Gun Placement

Has anyone else paid attention to where thugs in movies put their guns? It seems to me that a surprisingly large population put their guns in the waistband of their pants, right below the navel.

Is is just me or is this quite possibly the worst place a person making their living off of doing overly macho things could put a gun? I hope I don't have to spell out why this is, but imagine you are said thug, and find yourself needing to "pop a cap," so you reach under your shirt to get your gun. Everything is fine up to this point, but say a loose thread snags your piece. Suddenly you're frantically pulling on a gun aimed directly at your man bits. Not a good scenario.

If there are any street thugs reading this and haven't left already to shoot me, please explain this phenomenon in the comments.

Not where you want an explosive device 5

Robots In Disguise

So call me a nerd (or preferably call me awesome), but I really really like campy movies. Not a big fan of simply bad movies, but truly awful movies are quite entertaining. Back in high school I made a bit of tradition of watching late night original Sci Fi channel movies, which were utterly, spectacularly, terrible. Haven't had the time or the social confidence to be doing that so much since I got to college, though.

So when I was cruising around YouTube, watching a compilation of the best 80's cartoon shows (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3ayJ27RxU8&feature=related), I was delighted to find that some enterprising soul had uploaded the entire original Transformers movie. This, mind you, was not the recent live-action Transformers movie (which, considering the massive budget and cool effects, was surprisingly campy itself), but the 80's animated classic. This movie is notable in several ways. First of all, I remember watching it repeatedly when I was but a wee one, and thinking it was the coolest thing ever. Secondly, voices are provided by Eric Idle, Leonard Nimroy, Peter Cullen, Judd Nelson, and the great Orson Welles. Thirdly, this movie has the best synth-heavy 80's soundtrack this side of Flash Gordon (which I cannot recommend highly enough). Fourthly, it is a cartoon about robots fighting each other. A perfect recipe for a wonderfully terrible movie. Do watch it, you won't regret it. Or at least check out that little video given earlier, and revel in the glory of He-Man, the Thundercats, Inspector Gadget, and all the rest.

A Deep Question

You can't tell from the stupid "posted at" time given below, but I'm writing this at 2 in the morning and am mucho tired. So tired that I am apt to insert Spanish adjectives where they make little sense.

In my daily life I have come across one of those deep questions. You may have heard the question "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" My question is much more metaphysical, and practical as well. The question is:

Why do they make ketchup packets so small?

Has anyone not currently clinically insane or severely anorexic ever eaten less than two ketchup packets with a meal? I think not. Why must I be forced to grab a handful of packets when often a gogurt tube of ketchup would be appropriate? Alas I fear I am forever doomed to rip packet after packet open with my teeth, simply to allocate the correct amount of tomatoe paste to my burger.

Sidenote(s)- As I was searching for a picture of a ketchup packet I discovered I am regrettably not the first to lament the teensy packaging of ketchup. I'm going to stop writing now because I just remembered that I named the URL of this blog to account for occasions such as this.

Also the sound of one hand clapping is Cl-

My New Entourage

Right now I have 5 (5!) seniors from a Bronx high school in my room. I don't have a terribly large room. It is 2:13 in the morning.

I signed up to host 1 kid, just 1, from Thursday evening until 8:30 Friday morning. It didn't seem that demanding a task, and I got some free meals as a reward. There were 60 kids visiting in total, as a part of a program from an inner-city high school. All of us St. Lawrence hosts were asked to go to Sykes formal lounge at 6:00 to collect our pre-frosh.

However, admission seemed to run of of hosts, and I was the last St. Lawrence student to get called up to receive his prospective student. At that point, their were 3 students left instead of the expected 1. Admissions lady asked me to take all 3 to dinner until a new host could be contacted, at which point I would be called and my extra kids would be taken elsewhere. That never happened. Furthermore, these kids sort of formed large groups based on existing friendships, regardless of who was supposed to be staying with who. So I found myself as part of a sizable group for the evening, eating, playing pool, playing broomball, watching The Dark Knight, etc. The group was composed largely of African-American and Hispanic students from the Bronx, who seemed happy enough but somewhat baffled by their rural surroundings, and white St. Lawrence kids who were equally baffled to find themselves surrounded by street-smart teens. A couple of hosts seemed to give up and go to sleep, so eventually I found myself with 5 Bronx students under my watch. For the first, and probably last time, I found myself with a posse.

They are all in my room right now. My roommate Dylan just came in, and is chatting with them, taking some of the pressure off me. He was, um, surprised to find 5 times as many kids in his room as I had led him to believe would be, but handled it well. I think they all might plan on sleeping here. I've tossed some blankets and a sleeping bag on the floor, but I have no idea what is going to happen. There currently 2 of them on my giant purple bean bag. It all feels thoroughly surreal.

Also, they are drinking all my apple juice.

A Story of a Boy

Once upon a time there was a little boy. His name isn't really important, but what is important is that some years after this story, he texted me and got me out of my warm bed because I hadn't posted today. ANYWAYS....

This little boy was very happy because he was coming home from Disney Land. As he dozed in the back of his parents Ford Explorer, he was comforted by dreams of his stuffed animals waiting for him at home. As the car bounced over the initial bump of his driveway, he excitedly awoke. "Finally home!" he thought as he fumbled for his glasses. "Now I can do what I've been waiting all week to do!" What was that you may ask? It was to greet his beanie babies of course.

The little boy burst through his door, tearing through the darkened hall way. He sprinted up the carpeted steps to the second floor, and slid down the slick hardwood of the hall to his bedroom. Just as he was rounding the corner at top speed, there was a sickening thud and a blinding light before his eyes. The little boy had ran straight into the edge of his door!

His beanie babies looked on as his parents picked up the bleeding child, and began to make arrangements for the gaping wound in his head to be sewn up. He took his favorite snow leopard to the hospital with him.

THE END

Sean Connory and PCP

I've gotten into the habit lately of falling asleep with headphones in. I make a 6 or 7 song playlist on my iPod, and by the times it ends I'm almost always asleep. My roommate is generally on the phone during this period, and the headphones give those conversations a little more privacy. However, during the few seconds of silence in between songs, sometimes I pick up snippets of what he's saying. A couple of nights ago, I was in between Sufjan Stevens songs and jsut about asleep, when suddenly I hear Dylan say "It's like if suddenly in season 5 of 'The Office' Sean Connery played the Michael Scott role." Needless to say, my interest was piqued. That would be awesome! It wouldn't work at all, but Sean Connery is ridiculous and hasn't been in anything for forever. Sadly I wasn't able to establish the context. Sometime I'll have to ask him what that was about.

I want to leave you with is a little comedic sketch that I hadn't watched in at least a year, but then some people on the floor below me were watching some other sketches by the same group (The Whitest Kids U'Know) and it brought back memories. So here you go, enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ah7ApyeyneY&feature=related

A Day in the Mall

Ok everybody, who's been in a mall before? Yeah everybody, that's what I thought. You're all a bunch of conformists (except for those who just go to shop at hot topic). 

Malls are quite unique in a whole bunch of ways, and a lot of these bunches provide me with amusement. Take the aforementioned Hot Topic for example. Do I really want to express my individuality with care-bear shirts and black and purple hoodies? No thank you, I would much rather hang with those shirtless Hollister mannequins. (Sidenote: I just spelled mannequins right the first time. heck yeah! Also: google image turns up frightening things if you search "mannequin")

Did you know they scent their stores? Maybe everyone knew this, but I always thought everyone in there smelled the same (maybe they do, I don't know), and their combined scent wafted out into the main mall area. I recently discovered the actual store itself is scented like "Hollister." I've actually witnessed someone smell someone else and exclaim "You smell like Hollister!" OOH how exciting. 

I'm thinking now that I may have to include more on my musings about the mall because this little blurb doesn't really cover it. Maybe I'll do installments or something. Maybe I won't. Whatever, I'm making a pop-tart.

This is the Smell Portal-->

Accumulated Thoughts

- Turns out you should wash bandannas before you wear them for the first time playing basketball with your friends. If you don't wash it, you will end up with an interesting bright red sweat/dye band around the crown of your head. Good conversation starter, but nonetheless not particularly desirable.

- Nor, however, should new bandannas be placed in the washing machine in a load that contains your socks, apparently.

- I recently bought some TicTacs that were, upon closer inspection, past their expiration date. There was no noticeable difference.

- Been on the website Hulu.com lately. A touch corporate for my tastes, but still, it has tons of TV shows and some movies for free, with "limited" commercial interruption, available for viewing online. Really a wonderful tool of procrastination. Last night watched an episode of The A-Team, and was quite happy.

- Reread Anansi Boys, the novel by Neil Gaiman, this morning. Very highly recommended.

- I'm going to go play some intramural broomball in like an hour, and I anticipate being a true menace on the ice. You don't know what broomball is, you say (again, neither does my usually warm and receptive spellcheck)? I pity the fool. You're on ice, wearing sneakers, and have these only vaguely broom-like sticks with which you attempt to propel the ball into your opponents' goal. Good sport for those of us up here at St. Lawrence who are professional attendees at hockey games (our guys are currently 22nd in the country! women are 9th!) and daydream of glory in rink.

- Shameless self-promotion much? Tune into my radioshow Tuesdays 3-5!

Am I right? Am I right? Anybody??

I've listened to quite a bit of stand-up comedy, and one of the more common devices I've heard is what I call "Going out on a limb." That's when a comedian admits to doing something that no one else admits to but everyone secretly does. Then presumably the audience responds with  "Oh snap! I can't believe he admitted he did that, but now that its in the open I can laugh because I've done it too! Yay!"

But what happens when a comedian utterly fails? Its like a comedian gets so wrapped up in pandering to their audience that they go further and further until they're making fun of Mexicans (which is totally OK as long as they're not white or anything). Once, just once I want to see a comedian admit something so deviant that they just fall off the metaphorical tree branch. "I was so mad at that guy I could have just peed on him, you know?"

"Wait, I'm the only one?"

"Oh."

Zoo Gorilla 'Doing Well' After Colonoscopy

My homepage is CNN.com, and when I turned on my internet this morning, I saw that headline lurking in a position of some prominence. Who, I thought to myself, would ever click on that link? My general interest in colonoscopies is pretty much nil, and adding a large primate to the equation still doesn't quite pique my interest. And why, why on earth were there those single quotation marks around 'doing well?' What could that possibly be implying? So, of course, in the spirit of scientific inquiry I clicked on the story.

The good news, at least, is that Gigi seems to be doing well, and has recovered from her experience. She was put under anesthesia for the procedure, which was undertaken because she "was having digestive problems." The story was mysteriously silent, sadly, on why this was a newsworthy event. I'm sure that such procedures are far from common, but still.... it was the second story on CNN.com under the 'US News' heading. Come on.

R.I.P Michael Crichton

We have just found out that one of our favorite authors died Tuesday after having privately battled cancer. Michael Crichton was a visionary, a scientist, and an artist. Countless hours of our time were spent reading and rereading his books. Titles such as The Andromeda Strain, Congo, The Terminal Man, Sphere, and Jurassic Park made science cool.

"We've been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we're gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us."

-Michael Crichton in Jurassic Park

Perhaps there you were wrong, Mr. Crichton. The world will most definitely miss you. But even it didn't, those little boys, hell, those college freshmen, who stayed up late reading Prey sure will.

- Nathan and Cam

That Election Thing

I discovered last night that my usually trustworthy spellcheck fails to recognize 'Obama' as a word people may actually be intending to type, and instead suggests that I may be trying and failing to type 'Obidiah' or possibly 'Alabama.' It is even more baffled when I mention "Barack,' proposing that perhaps I meant 'Ba rack.'

Anyway, hard to post today without focusing on Barack Obama's victory last night. And you know, it wasn't even that close. McCain got totally blown out of the water. I don't want to broadcast my political views or anything, but I will admit that today I'm wearing a hawaiian shirt (again), humming Queen, and grinning at random passerby, which I acknowledge could be a sketchy combination.

A few favorite moments from the last few days of campaigning:
- Barack Obama saying "Brothers should pull up their pants."
- In the same interview where the above quip was delivered, Obama was asked "Boxers or briefs?" and declined to specify, but noted "Whichever one it is, I look good in them"
- Mark Salter (John McCain's senior aide), when asked how John McCain was getting through the last arduous day of the campaign, replied "Crystal meth" without missing a beat.

Clearly, though, the best moment of the election occurred last night on the CNN coverage of the election, when correspondents delivered their reports VIA HOLOGRAM.


I mean, come on. If that isn't the coolest thing to happen since the Fonz (who, for the record, my spellcheck does recognize), then I don't what is.

Fame and Fortune and Everything that goes with it

Everyone wants to be famous. If you don't, then you should talk to your therapist, because undoubtedly he does, and maybe you'll be the patient that makes him famous. Anyways!

I have recently refined how exactly I want to be famous. I want to be so well known as an actor, that I don't have to do real movies anymore. The only thing I would do is spectacular uncredited cameos in movies. "Yeah that teen comedy/action/generic crap movie was ok, the only really funny part was when Nathan Casto came out dressed as Boba Fett and....." you get the idea.

I'm pretty sure my dream will go unfulfilled though. Tom Cruise only got that hilarious cameo in Tropic Thunder because he's already Tom Cruise. If I could just skip the real career and go right to the good stuff that would be great.

Actually, I just want to be Christopher Walken.

Links 'Cause I'm Lazy

So today, I'm not feeling especially creative myself, so maybe I can follow Nathan's lead and direct you all (as though there are legions of devoted readers out there) to more entertaining corners of of the internet. I cruised around YouTube for some fun stuff yesterday, and I tried a novel approach: enter the most vague search terms I could, and see what I found. The results follow.

First I tried putting in "ridiculous" and got this video of a bouncing car:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nFUiEAPOqBI&feature=related

Next, I typed in "awesome" and was rewarded with this montage of appropriately awesome things (and I apoligize for the irritating soundtrack some moron added to this video):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30GeJHYoerk

Finally, I typed in "parody" and found this one for anyone who a) is sick of Mac ads, or b) has been disappointed at McDonalds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XuJlGnqI6I&feature=related

This afternoon I'm going rock climbing, so if my posts cease you'll know what happened.

The Times they are a-Changin

It will be very difficult for me not to piggy-back on Cam's posts and simply poke fun of him instead of coming up with creative material. But that wouldn't be very nice.

So instead I'll reserve the fun-poking for the comments section (be sure to look at them, they might prove to be epic battlegrounds). That being said, this blog looks dead-sexy thanks to Cam's aesthetic and outdoorsy style, so thanks to Cam. This was going to be a short post, so I'll just leave you with a link that provided me with some amusement today.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ABqh9N-Mw5E

A New Contributor? Yes!

Hello everybody! (Hi Doctor Nick! [Simpsons? Anyone?]) This is Cam Lownie, Nathan's friend and fellow rumpled, frisbee-tossing, wild-eyed blogger. We're thinking that from here on out, between the two of us we should be producing a post a day, ostensibly for your benefit, but really just because we like ranting.

Also, since unlike Nathan I have at least a vague appreciation for aesthetic appeal, I have reformatted the format to make it prettier. Hope you approve.

So. Daylight Savings Time ended last night, and we all got an extra hour of sleep. Personally, I've always been somewhat baffled by this whole thing, so I looked into the history. In WWI, DST was established to save electricty, but was then repealed when the war ended. Confusingly, DST observance then became a locally regulated affair, so that it could be a different time from one county to the next. Then, during WWII, Daylight Savings was observed year-round nationally, again to save electricty. Chaos reigned again after the war, with one 35 mile stretch between Ohio and West Virginia requiring seven clock resets. In the early '60s, train and airline authorities lobbied for some sanity, and the Uniform Time Act was passed in 1966. These days, DST starts the second Sunday of March until the first Sunday in November. However, Hawaii and (oddly) Arizona still do not observe DST, the latter for no good reason I can find.

Just so you know.

This Post Brought to you by the Letter C

What is a blog but the repository for inane ramblings upon things that matter to me but little to everyone else?

Which brings me to my next point: the letter "C" is a parasite upon an otherwise happy alphabet family. Before you leap to any conclusions about my admittedly questionable sanity, please to hear me out.

Try and think of a function that "C" fulfills that another letter does not already perform. Cat=kat cecilia=sesilia. Makes sense right? C is like that guy in office space who "Interfaces" between the salesman and the engineers. Couldn't they just talk to each other? Couldn't they?? He's fulfilling a purpose, but its a repetitive and useless one. Imagine poor K and S just sitting out thinking "What the hell, I could be DOING that man." 

That's all I have to say on that particular subject matter, but as I was writing this I decided to put some disclaimers at the bottom. Number one, maybe you don't get the office space reference, but someone will. Also if you try and bring up the "ch" sound, well you just shut your pie-hole k? Is this your blog? No, didn't think so.