Kyle showed me this hilarious video of a newscast from Mobile, Alabama. He's from the northwest area of Florida, and tells me that occasionally they'll catch segments of the news from Mobile. Seriously, this is an actual newscast. According to Kyle, it's rather characteristic of Mobile, which makes me totally want to move there just so I can live out the rest of my life in a state of constant entertainment.
He also showed me this amazing remix of the newscast. I almost died watching this. Literally. I laughed so hard that I think I nearly suffered an aneurysm. There's really just nothing more I can say about how awesome this is.
"It could be a crackhead...."
"This suit wards off spells..."
"This is a special leprechaun flute that's been passed down from THOUSANDS OF YEARS ago by my GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER"
"I wanna know where da gold's at. I want da gold. Gimme da gold."
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
The Eye Twitch
This is a post about The Eye Twitch. I'm capitalizing it because I've now had it for so long that it's coalesced from a minute annoyance on the fringes of consciousness into its own entity, a living blight that threatens to drive me to insanity. The Eye Twitch took its fledgling breaths early in December, appearing as a brief series of muscle spasms in my left eyelid. Since that time, it's slowly been gathering strength, repeatedly occurring at the most inconvenient times. Indeed, I can only conclude that the people at my workplace consider me to be some sort of pirate, what with my twitchy eye and the fact that often the only thing that makes it bearable is to scrunch it up in an "Arr, matey!" sort of look. That, or perhaps they think I have Tourette's. If so, I may take advantage by yelling profanities and inappropriate comments whenever I feel like it.
Regardless, I don't believe I actually have Tourette's, nor am I a pirate (although that would be some swashbuckling fun). I was driven in desperation a few days ago to search for eye twitching on the internet, and found several sites that blame the cause on anxiety, fatigue, and stress. Also, genetics may play a role. And I did find out that my mom has had previous eye twitching episodes, as well. So I could blame her for it. But, I've actually come up with my own theory for the cause behind The Eye Twitch. Here it is: my eyelid is so sick of being attached to my body that it's gradually building up its strength to make its big escape, possibly while I'm asleep to prevent me from forcing it to stay. And to be completely honest, I don't blame it, and I've long suspected some of my limbs of plotting escape. So it comes as no surprise. Unfortunately, I can't just let it go, you know? I mean, where would my eye be if I had no eyelid? All dried up and frankly, kind of freaky looking. Plus, then my eye would probably rebel and make it's own escape, and I'm sure that would just start a chain reaction. First the eyelid, then the eye, then what? Anyway, the point is, I'm actually on the verge of ripping off my eyelid and gouging out my eye.
Regardless, I don't believe I actually have Tourette's, nor am I a pirate (although that would be some swashbuckling fun). I was driven in desperation a few days ago to search for eye twitching on the internet, and found several sites that blame the cause on anxiety, fatigue, and stress. Also, genetics may play a role. And I did find out that my mom has had previous eye twitching episodes, as well. So I could blame her for it. But, I've actually come up with my own theory for the cause behind The Eye Twitch. Here it is: my eyelid is so sick of being attached to my body that it's gradually building up its strength to make its big escape, possibly while I'm asleep to prevent me from forcing it to stay. And to be completely honest, I don't blame it, and I've long suspected some of my limbs of plotting escape. So it comes as no surprise. Unfortunately, I can't just let it go, you know? I mean, where would my eye be if I had no eyelid? All dried up and frankly, kind of freaky looking. Plus, then my eye would probably rebel and make it's own escape, and I'm sure that would just start a chain reaction. First the eyelid, then the eye, then what? Anyway, the point is, I'm actually on the verge of ripping off my eyelid and gouging out my eye.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Life in Dundee
So it's that most glorious time of the year again. You know what time I'm talking about. No, not the holidays, stupid. It's January, for crying out loud. I mean the time of year when my car is constantly covered with the sugar-salt-sand mix they plaster on the roads, when my parking lot turns into a skating rink for automobiles, and when the wind is so cold that I'm in constant danger of losing fingers and toes. Yes, it is that time. And let me tell you, I love it. Please, let me give you just a couple of examples of why it is, indeed, so wonderful.
First, freezing rain. Need I say more? Oh yes, yes I do. There's nothing quite like driving with both your windshield wipers on full speed and your defrost on full blast because the rain freezes on the glass if you don't. Unless it's walking out to your car the next morning and discovering that someone has replaced it with a 1997 Honda Civic-shaped ice sculpture. (As a side note, it took me fifteen minutes to chisel off the quarter inch of ice from my driver side window.)
Second, the lack of anything resembling a snow plow in the entire city of Omaha. Instead, they use a technique colloquially referred to (by me) as "sprinkling the snow and slush with crap in an effort to permanently disrupt the ecosystem by removing the nation's topsoil and mixing it with salt and sugar, thereby contaminating said topsoil and preventing its further use in agricultural settings, which doesn't matter anyway because it's no longer in an agricultural setting, unless you count the streets of Omaha since they're now covered with a nice, thick layer of sediment." You have to admit it's pretty amazing to come home from your vacation (all the while driving on the sandy morass of the streets) and find that the parking lot behind your apartment building is a solid sheet of 2 inch thick ice. And you thought tire chains were just for driving up canyons to ski resorts.
Finally, I'd like to say how much I enjoy the freezing temperatures coupled with gale-force winds, which seem to be concentrated in the fifty feet of space located directly in front of the entry to my work place. It's very invigorating, that life or death challenge of reaching the door. How many people have the good fortune to wake up in the morning, think, "Today I may lose my pinkie on my way to work," then drag themselves out of their warm bed to face the excruciating pain of slowly freezing to death?
First, freezing rain. Need I say more? Oh yes, yes I do. There's nothing quite like driving with both your windshield wipers on full speed and your defrost on full blast because the rain freezes on the glass if you don't. Unless it's walking out to your car the next morning and discovering that someone has replaced it with a 1997 Honda Civic-shaped ice sculpture. (As a side note, it took me fifteen minutes to chisel off the quarter inch of ice from my driver side window.)
Second, the lack of anything resembling a snow plow in the entire city of Omaha. Instead, they use a technique colloquially referred to (by me) as "sprinkling the snow and slush with crap in an effort to permanently disrupt the ecosystem by removing the nation's topsoil and mixing it with salt and sugar, thereby contaminating said topsoil and preventing its further use in agricultural settings, which doesn't matter anyway because it's no longer in an agricultural setting, unless you count the streets of Omaha since they're now covered with a nice, thick layer of sediment." You have to admit it's pretty amazing to come home from your vacation (all the while driving on the sandy morass of the streets) and find that the parking lot behind your apartment building is a solid sheet of 2 inch thick ice. And you thought tire chains were just for driving up canyons to ski resorts.
Finally, I'd like to say how much I enjoy the freezing temperatures coupled with gale-force winds, which seem to be concentrated in the fifty feet of space located directly in front of the entry to my work place. It's very invigorating, that life or death challenge of reaching the door. How many people have the good fortune to wake up in the morning, think, "Today I may lose my pinkie on my way to work," then drag themselves out of their warm bed to face the excruciating pain of slowly freezing to death?
Monday, October 29, 2007
Why I need to wash my car...
Last night I parked in the stall next to the garbage bin in our parking lot. This morning I began driving to work (yes, I was driving to work, which is about five blocks away, because I was too lazy to walk), wondered why my windshield was so dirty, and realized there were paw prints all over it. Apparently the neighborhood raccoons had a little party last night in the garbage bin and on my car, which makes me slightly worried about what, exactly, those paw prints consist of.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Mmm...concerts...
So my friend managed to get some tickets to the Bright Eyes show last night. I'm sure most people haven't heard of Bright Eyes, but it's probably the most successful band on the indie label Saddle Creek Records (in fact, Saddle Creek was created by Bright Eyes), which is based here in Omaha. Anyway, Saddle Creek and 1% Productions team up to bring a lot of small shows here, and it was the 10 year anniversary of 1% Productions, so they thought, let's bring back Bright Eyes! It was a good show, but I feel obliged to make some suggestions to both 1% Productions and to all the people who attend concerts:
1. 1% Productions: Don't EVER bring back the band Flowers are Forever as an opener. Seriously. They're awful. No, really. They are. I know. Not only did I have the misfortune of listening to them last night, they also opened for The Faint when they came. I like to say they're an assault on all the senses. In one song, their lyrics for several minutes consisted of "Flowers are forever (creepy Nazi-esque salute arm wave-y thing), flowers are forever (repeat creepy Nazi-esque salute arm wave-y thing), etc." But merely sticking burning pokers into your ears will not save you. Because you would still see the lead singer moving in grotesque gyrations that, without the proper protection--i.e. people blocking him from view--will sear themselves onto your retinas, forever tainting the way you see the world. Hence, I recommend hot pokers to ears and eyes. They also burn gross incense on stage. And I'm sure that if one were to accidentally touch them, one's fingers would require amputation after exposure to the rancid sheen of old sweat, various drugs, and who-knows-what-else that makes their skin glisten in such an unnatural way.
2. Girls with large purses: Please do not stand behind me anymore. Please do not turn to look at your friends every five seconds for validation of your existence, bowling me over with said large purse every time. Please do not stick your cell phone in front of my face so you can get a better angle of Bright Eyes in your picture. Please do not be so anxious to take the front row spot of the fainting girl directly in front of me that you block the club guy who is trying to help her. After taking her spot in a survival-of-the-fittest fashion, when you stand in front of me, please do not continue to turn to look at your friends every five second for validation of your existence. Also, please do not randomly step back, thereby bringing my face dangerously close to your frizzy ponytail and trapping me in a single square foot of space that is also bordered by random, obnoxious jumping guy and dancing girl. In fact, please never go to a concert again.
3. Random, obnoxious jumping guys: Please don't push me over at the very end of the show in your eagerness to get closer to the stage. Please do not have spastic dancing seizures when you are within 300 feet of me. If you must have dancing seizures when you are closer than 300 feet, please try not to land on me each time you jump/convulse. And for heaven's sake, go see a neurologist! I think you might have epilepsy.
4. Dancing girls: Really, I don't swing that way. Please don't dance that close to me or bump into me. All it does is knock me off balance and make me very disgruntled.
5. People in general: Please don't go into some sort of religious/musical ecstasy/rapture trance over your favorite band. It's creepy. And it reminds me of some sort of cult. You know, the ones where Charles Manson is like, "go kill some people," and you're like, "I love you Charles!" and then you go kill people.
By the way, I really did have fun at the concert. I just think that a few simple changes will drastically improve my enjoyment. And after all, isn't everything done specifically for my enjoyment? No? What? The world doesn't revolve around me? Stupid.
1. 1% Productions: Don't EVER bring back the band Flowers are Forever as an opener. Seriously. They're awful. No, really. They are. I know. Not only did I have the misfortune of listening to them last night, they also opened for The Faint when they came. I like to say they're an assault on all the senses. In one song, their lyrics for several minutes consisted of "Flowers are forever (creepy Nazi-esque salute arm wave-y thing), flowers are forever (repeat creepy Nazi-esque salute arm wave-y thing), etc." But merely sticking burning pokers into your ears will not save you. Because you would still see the lead singer moving in grotesque gyrations that, without the proper protection--i.e. people blocking him from view--will sear themselves onto your retinas, forever tainting the way you see the world. Hence, I recommend hot pokers to ears and eyes. They also burn gross incense on stage. And I'm sure that if one were to accidentally touch them, one's fingers would require amputation after exposure to the rancid sheen of old sweat, various drugs, and who-knows-what-else that makes their skin glisten in such an unnatural way.
2. Girls with large purses: Please do not stand behind me anymore. Please do not turn to look at your friends every five seconds for validation of your existence, bowling me over with said large purse every time. Please do not stick your cell phone in front of my face so you can get a better angle of Bright Eyes in your picture. Please do not be so anxious to take the front row spot of the fainting girl directly in front of me that you block the club guy who is trying to help her. After taking her spot in a survival-of-the-fittest fashion, when you stand in front of me, please do not continue to turn to look at your friends every five second for validation of your existence. Also, please do not randomly step back, thereby bringing my face dangerously close to your frizzy ponytail and trapping me in a single square foot of space that is also bordered by random, obnoxious jumping guy and dancing girl. In fact, please never go to a concert again.
3. Random, obnoxious jumping guys: Please don't push me over at the very end of the show in your eagerness to get closer to the stage. Please do not have spastic dancing seizures when you are within 300 feet of me. If you must have dancing seizures when you are closer than 300 feet, please try not to land on me each time you jump/convulse. And for heaven's sake, go see a neurologist! I think you might have epilepsy.
4. Dancing girls: Really, I don't swing that way. Please don't dance that close to me or bump into me. All it does is knock me off balance and make me very disgruntled.
5. People in general: Please don't go into some sort of religious/musical ecstasy/rapture trance over your favorite band. It's creepy. And it reminds me of some sort of cult. You know, the ones where Charles Manson is like, "go kill some people," and you're like, "I love you Charles!" and then you go kill people.
By the way, I really did have fun at the concert. I just think that a few simple changes will drastically improve my enjoyment. And after all, isn't everything done specifically for my enjoyment? No? What? The world doesn't revolve around me? Stupid.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Cicadas-not just for annoying you with incessant buzzing
This past week I haven't been sleeping well. At first, it was thanks to random thunderstorms. I'm pretty sure I was woken up at least three times by sudden bursts of thunder. One night I was in that confused state you get in when you're abruptly woken and are still half asleep, and I couldn't figure out why it was so light outside when my clock said it was 3 AM. Then I realized (and in my delirious state, it probably took me several minutes) that it was actually lightning. Anyway, so the storms kept waking me up at all hours of the night. A couple of days ago, when the forecast was thunderstorm-less, I thought I was finally in the clear. Little did I know...(that sounds pretty ominous, right? Cause it's supposed to)
Little did I know that somewhere, some cicada had my number. You may know cicadas from their omnipresent, unceasing serenade (by serenade I'm thinking more 1812 Overture than Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) of grating buzzing. Well, I have good news for you--cicadas can do more than just buzz obnoxiously! They can also dive-bomb windows! Yes, it's true. Last night I spent about two hours lying awake in bed, listening to one repeatedly collide with the glass of my window. Honestly, I don't know why it didn't die. I mean, that bug must have had an exoskeleton of steel. I should probably check my window for chips today, just to make sure, what with how honkin' huge it was. You may be imagining a small moth-sized bug and thinking that I'm just a big whiner, but in truth, this cicada was roughly the size of a Bolivian fruit bat. At first, I couldn't figure out what I kept hearing, but after perhaps ten minutes of staring out my window, I noticed the humongous insect, crawling along on the sill. Anyway, last night, when I first saw it, I wasn't actually sure what it was, but I had plenty of time while I lay there, unable to sleep, to identify it, and then this morning I verified my identification skills via the internet.
I also suspect that I had difficulties falling back to sleep due to an irrational fear of said cicada. Although, it wasn't really irrational. Have you seen a cicada? They're hideous. My niece Abby seems to have this strange fear of flies, and wakes up sometimes from nightmares about them, but I think that maybe she's really having nightmares about cicadas. No, really. Do a google image search for cicadas and tell me they aren't scary. Cause they are.
Little did I know that somewhere, some cicada had my number. You may know cicadas from their omnipresent, unceasing serenade (by serenade I'm thinking more 1812 Overture than Eine Kleine Nachtmusik) of grating buzzing. Well, I have good news for you--cicadas can do more than just buzz obnoxiously! They can also dive-bomb windows! Yes, it's true. Last night I spent about two hours lying awake in bed, listening to one repeatedly collide with the glass of my window. Honestly, I don't know why it didn't die. I mean, that bug must have had an exoskeleton of steel. I should probably check my window for chips today, just to make sure, what with how honkin' huge it was. You may be imagining a small moth-sized bug and thinking that I'm just a big whiner, but in truth, this cicada was roughly the size of a Bolivian fruit bat. At first, I couldn't figure out what I kept hearing, but after perhaps ten minutes of staring out my window, I noticed the humongous insect, crawling along on the sill. Anyway, last night, when I first saw it, I wasn't actually sure what it was, but I had plenty of time while I lay there, unable to sleep, to identify it, and then this morning I verified my identification skills via the internet.
I also suspect that I had difficulties falling back to sleep due to an irrational fear of said cicada. Although, it wasn't really irrational. Have you seen a cicada? They're hideous. My niece Abby seems to have this strange fear of flies, and wakes up sometimes from nightmares about them, but I think that maybe she's really having nightmares about cicadas. No, really. Do a google image search for cicadas and tell me they aren't scary. Cause they are.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
squirrels, part 2
This was too long for one post, so here's the second part. Please read part one first.
Wednesday, April 5th
Wednesday, April 5th
Rode to class. Bike seat extremely uncomfortable, what with craterous hole. Am still alive, though. Have decided to surrender for safety’s sake.
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