| Today's Geek Moment |
[20 Jun 2007|08:52am] |
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mood |
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 amused |
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I get the ThinkGeek newsletter in my email every once in a while because that's where I buy pretty much every birthday, Father's Day, and Christmas present for my Dad (excepting this year, since I'm in Mexico and they have nifty stuff down here). In this addition, they had such interesting gadgets as a USB doorbell and an Internet lockdown key, but what really got my attention was the customer letter that Timmy, ThinkGeek's monkey mascot, answered.
Dear Timmy,
Who would win in a light saber battle, Walt Whitman or Ernest Hemingway?
Ayman
Lexington, Kentucky, US, Earth?
Dear Ayman,
I'm glad you asked; I get this one all the time and I'm happy to finally have a chance to put it to bed.
Now, you would think that Hemingway would have the clear advantage, given both his wartime experience (having been in WWI _and_ WWII, not to mention the Spanish Civil War) and his rough and ready image, whereas Whitman was raised a Quaker and liked to write about the beauty of grass. But let's not rule out Whitman just yet. He too did his time in a war zone--he worked as a nurse during the Civil War.
More importantly, Whitman was a mystic, often proclaimed as a transcendentalist, while Hemingway was a modernist with a very spare writing style. Think about it: does Yoda sound more like he belongs in "Big Two-Hearted River" or "O Captain! My Captain!"? Wielding a lightsaber is more about channeling the Force than swinging a sword, and I'm guessing the guy who said "the unseen is proved by the seen, till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn" might have a bit of an advantage in that department.
But in the end, of course, what it really comes down to is that Whitman had more midi-chlorians than Hemingway. Everybody knows that in all Whitman's podraces with Oscar Wilde, Wilde got spanked.
Hope that clears it up for you!
-- Timmy
Love it! :D
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| Mr. Rambo |
[28 Mar 2007|09:06pm] |
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mood |
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 confused |
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So we've been conducting telephone polls in my political science class (American Government, woo). We each were responsible for polling ten people from a list of "frequent voter" numbers, and I kind of put it off and put if off until the very last minute, so I had to sit down after dinner and spend two hours calling fifty some-odd people. Many disconnected numbers and "take me off your list"s later, I called Mr. Rambo, a seventy-year-old Lexington resident and ex-Marine.
What followed was either pure hilarity or purely frightening. I couldn't make this shit up if I wanted to.
ME: Hi, my name is Luci Everman and I'm a student at Bluegrass Community and Technical College. My political science class is conducting a quick survey of Kentucky voters, and I wondered if you or another registered voter in the house could answer a few questions for me.
RAMBO: Well sure, I guess I can do that.
ME: Thank you, sir. Now, may I ask if you are registered as a democrat or as a republican?
RAMBO: Well, I'm registered democrat.
ME: Alright. Now, in general, do you feel George Bush has done well in his job as president so far?
RAMBO: Mr. Bush has done an excellent job, because he's my commander-in-chief. I'm an ex-Marine.
ME: Okay. And how do you think Ernie Fletcher has done so far in his job as governor?
RAMBO: Well, he's my state commander-in-chief, so he's done an excellent job, too. (pause) You better watch the tone of your questions, missy.
ME: Um, yes... Sir. So do you feel that the country is on the right economic path?
RAMBO: Economic path? Who?
ME: Our country, sir. Do you think we as a nation are following the right economic path?
RAMBO: Well we're the best country in the world, so YES!
ME: How do you feel about the chance of President Bush's policy on Iraq being successful?
RAMBO: We MUST be successful in Iraq!
ME: And do you think that the U.S. should resolve the Iranian nuclear issue using military force or through diplomatic efforts?
RAMBO: We've got to send in the bombers.
ME: Um, okay, I have one last question about Kentucky political spending. Do you think more money should be allocated to the 2010 World Equestrian Games or should other issues receive priority?
RAMBO: I think we need to spend every available cent on the Equestrian Games, because this is our chance to shine on the world stage. We need to clean up the streets and fix the roads-- get the Mexicans to clean up all the trash and then ship them home, get the blacks to clean out the gutters and make 'em cut their hair and teach them to vote correctly. We've just got to straighten this town out before the games arrive, at whatever cost is necessary, so we can show the world how clean and pure and American we really are.
I'm still not sure whether I was choking on laughter or bile. It was just a totally surreal experience. I got off the phone politely, wished him a good evening, then promptly sat back and WTFed. Just... wow.
Needless to say, I have postponed calling the remainder of my list until tomorrow.
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| Wowzers. |
[21 Mar 2007|06:55pm] |
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mood |
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 amazed |
] |
My parents just won ten thousand dollars.
I... Wow. Just wow.
Thanks, Big Guy in the Sky. I owe you one. Or, well, ten thousand ones, more accurately.
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| I Heart Spring |
[09 Mar 2007|02:26pm] |
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mood |
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why sunny, of course! |
] |
The sun returns!
Rejoice in sunshine and sixty degrees! Revel in walks home from school as opposed to riding the nasty ol' bus! Welcome the return of the air conditioner! Love ye this gorgeous weather!
Exclamation points for sunny days!!!
...And now for a picnic.
(Rejoice, also, for acceptance to Mexico and my upcoming south-of-the-border summer. Thank you, Mr. Acceptance Email-- now invite your good friend Mr. We Are Giving You a Scholarship Email to the fiesta, or the piñata gets it.)
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| Study Break! |
[02 Mar 2007|09:24am] |
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mood |
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 busy |
] |
I'm taking a five minute goof-off, and decided to ask Neil's Magnificent Oracular 8-Ball how I would do on my one o'clock exam.
"It will be a good night," said the wonderous sphere. I'll take that as a, "You will do splendifferously."
Back to memorizing Ottoman institutions... Yay?
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| HOLY SHIT! |
[11 Feb 2007|07:26pm] |
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mood |
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dance of joy! |
] |
I am totally expecting a pony to drop out of the sky any minute. Which could hurt a bit. It would also be mighty confusing, considering I asked for a puppy, but eh. Anyway, Penny Arcade posted tomorrow's comic early, and look! They used my link!
My day just got so much better. I feel so special and important! Chris says I'm just easy to please, but I don't care! Right now, in this tiny moment, I feel undeniably awesome.
Squee! :D
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| Small Miracles Wanted |
[09 Feb 2007|11:26pm] |
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mood |
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 mah throat, eet ees dry |
] |
I just forwarded this article to the guys at Penny Arcade. My fingers are crossed and praying for a comic. It probably won't happen (hell, the email will probably get filtered into and subsequently flushed with the spam mail), but what if...
Oh, and as long as I'm daydreaming, I also want world peace, free lunch, and a puppy (because ponies are too big to hide on campus).
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| Da Who? |
[04 Feb 2007|10:40pm] |
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mood |
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Wooo! |
] |
Colts won,
Payton Manning pisses excellence,
Prince is fabulous,
and I am drunk.
All is right with the world!
'Cept for that big pile o' homework, of course...
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| Dear Boston, |
[01 Feb 2007|04:10pm] |
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mood |
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amused |
] |
Image stolen from thread at FARK.
Thank you. Thank you for being utterly retarded.
Seriously, though-- how can that many people be that fucking stupid?! "Oh no, a Lite Brite has been suspended from this bridge. There's some batteries and wires, so it must be a BOMB! Never mind that there's no circuitry or even conceivable place for a bomb to hide-- commence panicking immediately! AHHHHH!"
I laugh at you, Boston. Ha ha ha. May you dwell in idiocy forever. I hope Turner Broadcasting sends you a letter along the lines of, "Kiss my amazingly rich ass."
Still, thanks for giving yesterday a few smiles. I needed that.
Keep on keepin' on,
Luci
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| Behold... |
[28 Jan 2007|12:28am] |
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mood |
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happy happy joy joy |
] |
...for it is mine.
Gloat +1: I found it used at the Gamestop near the mall.
Gloat +2: I was able to trade in my GBA:SP towards it...
Gloat +3: ...for fifty bucks. This means that...
Gloat +∞: I bought a Nintendo DS for forty dollars! Score!
I went ahead and bought Feel the Magic: XY/XX for it, since the used version was eight bucks. All told, it's the best fifty dollars I've spent in a looooooong time. Granted, it's going to make it hard to save money, or study, or sleep, but I couldn't pass up a deal like that. I've already started a list of games I want to get in the future-- Meteos, Final Fantasy III, Age of Empires: Age of Kings, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Blue Rescue Team (shut up, you know it's awesome)...
Any suggestions, you fellow DSers? Add to my list!
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| A Shift of Perspective |
[17 Jan 2007|04:49pm] |
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mood |
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 soooo hungry... |
] |
If you have email, then you've probably seen this-- in fact, I'm pretty sure that my mother sent this to me a few years ago. My PS 101 instructor passed this out before class started today, which not only proves how sickening the mass-forward movement truly is, but also how much lasting effect an email can really have.
Or maybe I just like it, so pbbbsth. No telling for accuracy, but ever onward...
We Are Fortunate, Indeed
If we could shrink the earth's population to a village of precisely one-hundred people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, it would look something like the following:
57 Asians
21 Europeans
14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
8 Africans
52 would be female
48 would be male
70 would be non-white
30 would be white
70 would be non-Christian
30 would be Christian
89 would be heterosexual
11 would be homosexual
6 would possess 59% of the entire world's wealth, and all six would be from the United States
80 would live in substandard housing
70 would be unable to read
50 would suffer from malnutrition
1 would be near death
1 would be near birth
1 would have a university education
1 would own a computer
When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for acceptance, understanding, and education becomes glaringly apparent.
That's it. I'm done hijacking your monitor-- for the time being, at least. Please return to your regularly-scheduled programming
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| Help Me, Rhonda |
[12 Jan 2007|02:34am] |
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mood |
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 hopeful |
] |
I'm considering a return to the time-wasting world that is AIM, as I believe that my stalker has finally quit the Internet (or else been forced to). Just in case, though, I'm tossing the old screen name to the curb.
So... Any suggestions for a new one?
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| With Love, from God to Santa |
[25 Dec 2006|07:24pm] |
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mood |
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chipper |
] |
Chris forwarded this to me this morning, and I simply must share (no cut, mwahaha). I plan to post again later-- there's a nice warm bath calling my name right now.
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| Happy Christmas! |
[25 Dec 2006|01:58am] |
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mood |
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hungry |
] |
The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the Tank.
His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter too. He was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o'clock.
"Hallo," growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, as near as he could feign it. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?"
"I'm very sorry, sir," said Bob. "I am behind my time."
"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes. I think you are. Step this way, if you please."
"It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir."
"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge, "I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore," he continued, leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back into the Tank again; "and therefore I am about to raise your salary."
Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait-waistcoat.
"A merry Christmas, Bob," said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year. I'll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob. Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!"
Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.
He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every One!
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| Whoa. |
[22 Dec 2006|04:02am] |
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mood |
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 near-comatose |
] |
When did it get to be four in the morning? Seriously. I was on my way to bed at 11:30.
Damn you, facebook, and my urge to upload photos! *shakes fist*
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| Drumroll, Please... |
[21 Dec 2006|01:59pm] |
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mood |
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busy |
] |
The seventh and last Harry Potter book has a name-- "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows".
Ooo... Scary...
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| Apparently, My Life is Not Christmasy Enough |
[11 Dec 2006|06:27am] |
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mood |
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still incredibly happy! |
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( my xmas stocking )
Also, I want food that is not a "failure pile in a sadness bowl," as Patton Oswald just so eloquently put it. Cookies will have to suffice. Seriously, though, fast food was lazy enough-- now Americans can't even be bothered to unwrap/unpackage more than one meal item in a sitting. Stupidity prevails!
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| Dear Abby? |
[03 Dec 2006|10:05pm] |
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mood |
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 anxious |
] |
Dear Islamic History,
I see no reason for the two of us to continue in what has proven to be a fruitless relationship. You take and take and take, and all I ever receive for my trouble is a headache and an intense desire to possess nuclear weapons. You are confusing, convoluted, and causing me undue stress. You make me stay awake at all hours to write cited essays about you in twelve-point font with single spacing, only to laugh at my futile efforts because you know-- you know-- that you are thisclose to ruining my 4.0.
I hate you, Islamic History. I utterly, totally, completely despise you. Please leave me alone so I can study for my test in peace.
Breaking away,
Luci
PS: And of course, my test is about you. Dammit.
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| One Order of Sexual Harrassment to Go, Please |
[11 Nov 2006|07:47pm] |
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mood |
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 content |
] |
Work was... interesting yesterday. We've finally finished transforming the store into our "holiday shop" (as opposed to "Falliday", which we had for all of two weeks), and we're receiving crazy amounts of shipment to prove it. Not that any of the shipment that we're getting is useful, or needed, or able to fit in any of our three storage spaces, but that's another tale. Anyway, I stayed last night to help close the store and finish shipment, and much amusement ensued.
Let me preface the rest of this story by stating that I was not aware that beer was sold in the mall food court. I'll now jump to the end and calmly state that I had a customer grab my ass last night. Now for the filler.
I was putting away Spiced Gingerbread lotion on our octagonal centerpiece table when this... for lack of better description, backwoods hick comes up. I was pretty convinced that the guy had bathed in beer before coming out-- just an absolutely rediculous stench of alcohol. He picks up an Eggnog candle and starts asking me if I like the scent. Being an honest (and slightly wary) salesperson, I told him I hadn't personally had a chance to try that particular scent, but that other candles in the same line were very good.
I'm turning to walk away when he takes the lid off of the candle and sticks the jar right in my face. "Well, how do ya like thayat schents?" It was around this juncture that I felt his hand squeeze my butt. "Huh? How's thayat smellin'?"
Completely. Fucking. Shocked. I really just stood there for a couple of seconds, as though my brain could not accurately process what was happening. I was literally too surprised to think. The first thing I could think to say was something along the lines of, "Um, there's no eggnog back there," followed closely by, "I think I need to speak to my manager..." I broke away, and he left before I could tell anyone what happened-- rather speedy drunkard, if you ask me.
My manager flipped out after I pointed out the guy while he was escaping out the front. Apparently, she had chased him away from the back hallway like five minutes before for acting like he was going to drop his pants in front of the girls working shipment. Tiffany (our customer sales lead) said that he had basically offered his work moving boxes if someone would have sex with him.
After my initial shock, I really couldn't help but laugh over it. Honestly, it was one of the most ridiculous experiences I've ever had in my entire life. The security guards were really sweet, though-- after their mob of five couldn't find the guy on mall property, a couple of them hung around until we finished shipment and actually left the store around midnight.
So, yeah. Adventures abound. Except for now, since I actually need to start doing something productive.
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