Elijah Wood - Numa Numa - Yo Gabba Gabba! Dancy Dance

What happened to Looney Tunes? A Christmas treat from me to you starring your favorite elf from Lord of the Rings.

Headlight Etiquitte

I was driving down Route 57 (like you have any idea where that is) when I passed a very well hidden cop facing the other direction with his radar out. I did the only respectable thing one can do for a fellow driver, which was to give the double brights to my fellow drivers, informing them of impending doom if they don't slow down.

However, my situation raised several questions. For example, how far away do you get before you stop informing your fellow driver? I think I stopped somewhere at the 2 mile mark, and I thought that a bit too far. Also, it raised hypothetical questions. What happens if you're behind someone when passing the cop, and the person in the lead doesn't let the drivers in the other direction know? Are you, as Car #2, morally obligated to do the double brights? If so, can cars going the other direction clearly see the brights action? Will the person in front of you think you're trying to communicate with them? So many questions.

So I then get on the Merritt Parkway, continuing on my journey. If you don't know it, the Merritt is a 2-lane in each direction highway with a narrow grass median and metal guardrails in the middle. The speed limit is 55 but the slow lane regularly goes no slower than 70. It is very narrow, very curvy, and has literally no shoulder on either side. It's awesome.

I noticed, whilst driving, that cars driving southbound (I was going northbound at the time) would have their brights on when no other cars were in front of them. (Did I mention there are also no street lights?) Some cars turned their brights off when they saw the car pack that I was in, and some just left them on. What's the proper thing to do in this situation? It's interesting because on the Merritt, most people left their brights on, while on the Saw Mill (a similarly designed road), most people tend to turn their brights off when they see a car coming on the opposite direction. Peculiar indeed.

Have you heard enough about me going on and on about a car's headlights? I have. Tune in next week for my dissertation on whether zebras are black with white stripes or white with black stripes. Until then.

Awesome!

There are actually two awesome things that I wish to share with you tonight. The first is the introduction of the awesome* label for posts. It's awesome* because lets be honest, I'm pretty fucking weird and most of the shit I find awesome (sans asterisk) is probably only enjoyed by me. Anyway, onwards and upwards.

Geriatric1927: You've heard of the old man of the sea (note: I really don't care that its really the old man and the sea), well this is the old man of YouTube. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that he was born in 1927, which makes him understandably geriatric. Oh and he's also British. Amazing! His explanation video is short and sweet. He essentially got addicted to YouTube and now has his own video log. It is so easy to just listen to his old man British accent and listen to him explain the world through his eyes. Oh and he's got almost a hundred videos (maybe he has more now) so there's lots of material to keep you (me) interested. Awesome*!
http://youtube.com/profile?user=geriatric1927

Korova Milkbar: So as it turns out, the two awesome* things turned into three. Have you seen A Clockwork Orange, because I have. And I love it. Anyway, somewhere in the first 15 minutes of the film, there is a scene where Alex and his Droogs are at this rather intriguing place called, you guessed it, the Korova Milkbar. I just found out today that it's a real place! The downside is that it's no longer on the Lower East Side, and it's moved to White Plains. Anyway the place sounds awesome and I want to go there.

That's about all that's new and awesome* in my life right now. Until next time.

How Embarrassing

Because it's not particularly self explanatory, this is a predator from the Dateline NBC show "To Catch a Predator". His name is Jay Reffner, and yes I found that out through Google.

The guy is kind of an idiot, and I really don't feel bad for him. I mean not only does he have a penchant for having sex with really young minors, but he has a really shitty screen name. Meat rocket? Why the subterfuge? Just come out and say it. "I have a small penis." I mean that's the only logical reason I can think of why he'd go for underage persons. They just don't know any better.

The Moral of Today's Story: If you're going to molest young people, you've got to have a screen name they can easily understand. Meat rocket? Too clever for a 13 year old. Try something more straight-forward like "DickInHand42". The 42 signifies your age while the dick in hand accurately describes what you'll be doing while talking to these underage people. Also it has the added benefit of having to do with sex. Which will arouse their interest. Pun! Jackpot. Added difficulty: Change your name to Dick. Then people won't be able to make heads or tails of the situation.

So now that the story has absolutely no moral, and we all believe that this idiot is truly an idiot, I'm going to say good day. Good day.

Beauty is on the Inside...Right?

I went to my plastic surgeon today to make sure that my leg was still healing well. (Full Disclosure: I have a plastic surgeon.) The good news is that yes, the leg is healing well. Good, great, boring.

While I was sitting in the waiting room waiting to go in, I found myself sitting directly across from a young twenty-something (maybe 19?) girl that I would describe as rather attractive. Good body, cute face, and thin: what is she doing at a plastic surgeon? There didn't seem to be anything wrong with her, so I had to assume that she was going in for purely cosmetic reasons. And with that assumption, I became absurdly vain. As absurdly vain as a plastic surgeon.

So I'm stealing glances at her, trying to remain undetected, and attempting to figure out what she was doing there. Suddenly, I start thinking to myself, well, she's got a bit of under-chin fat, we could suck that out, she's got a cute nose, but I can understand why she doesn't like it, that can change, give her a bit of an eye lift, perhaps some work on the jawline, etc. I briefly considered a boob-job, but she was wearing loose-fitting clothing and the results were inconclusive.

Then, the kicker. Her friend comes out of the door separating the consult rooms and waiting room and she gets up to go. So now I feel like an idiot, she's not really planning on getting anything done. Oops. This poses a whole new set of questions. Do cosmetic surgeons see like this always? Do they get coffee and think, "A few strategically placed botox shots would really improve that barrista's quality of life"?

And what does that say about the kind of person who actually becomes a plastic surgeon? Do you have to be incredibly shallow in nature, or do they teach that in med school? Do they turn it off when they go home? Can they turn it off? Or do they go home, hug their 6 year old daughter, and think "I can't wait until you're 18 so I can give you a better nose"?

That's about as much as I can think about that. Stay tuned next week when we learn just why Peter Piper is so damn obsessed with picked peppers.

Social Commentary and Light Humor

I'm not sure if this is funny, sad, or both. As always, click on the image for the full sized (really gigantic) version.
P.S. if you look at that and think, "Yeah, I definitely agree with that." Then it's not funny for you. It's sad, and you need help because you have a problem.

Above the Influence

I don't know why, but I've always really enjoyed all those anti-drug commercials. Not that they're good, or effective, or even have decent production values, but its fun to see what the government considers an effective tool to get through to 'todays youth.' Please note the gigantic air quotes around today's youth.

Today, I did something I never did before, I went to www.abovetheinfluence.com. I must admit my favorite part was the "Comebacks" section, where you are presented with different scenarios regarding drug use and appropriate comebacks to such "come-ons". The picture below illustrates quite nicely how much time was put into this particular endeavor.

"I snagged my younger brother's Ritalin. Want some?" "Nah. That stuff is bad"

So what's my point? Really I have no clue. Maybe its that my tax dollars should be going better places, like child health care, or perhaps, oh I don't know a thousand other uses other than an ineffectual campaign that even congressional reports call ineffective.

On a lighter note, actually I don't know about a lighter note at the moment. I think the last time I left my house was Wednesday, which means two lovely days of watching TV, reading, doing crosswords, and getting a cold. Boo colds. Anyway, I've got a Bat Mitzvah to go to tomorrow which requires me to leave the house. More stories tomorrow!

Oh Connecticut

Here I am, watching more late night TV, which we've already established I shouldn't be doing. Today's choice is True Life: I'm the New Kid in Town. The on screen guide informed me that "Grace and her family move from Connecticut to New Zealand." Obviously the first question all the New Zealand girls ask Grace is where shes from. Her answer, "Basically right outside New York" really justified my existence.

Also, I respect the fact that MTV decided to subtitle half the things these faux-Australians were saying, because really, it just turns into gibberish after a point.

This girl is so awkward. Shes flirting (or trying to at least) with this guy. Shes talking like 200 miles a second and is trying to mock his accent. He's also speaking rather fast, which is difficult because hes incomprehsible.

In other news, I drove my car today for the first time since I got out of the hospital. It was good, and shifting was much less difficult than I had originally suspected. Well the show's almost over and I should really go to bed, so I guess that's the end of this post. Goodbye!

Should I go to bed? Yes

A perfect example of why I should not be watching so much TV.

"The Universe" is a show on the History Channel, and also happens to be really cool. Right now, they're discussing how time is relative. Apparently gravity affects time. So that the clocks on the GPS satellites orbiting earth run actually slightly faster than clocks on earth. They even did experiments using super accurate atomic clocks in space and on earth.

Now they're discussing paradoxes regarding time travel, i.e. The Grandfather Paradox--what happens if you go back in time and kill your grandfather? Then he would have never had your father who would have never had you, so how could you exist to go back in time and kill him. The 'scientists' on the show then give another paradox. What if you go back in time and meet your teenage mother. And then she falls in love with you. How could you exist to go back in time if she spurned your father and therefore never had you.

Wait just a second. They just exactly recited the plot of Back to the Future. So now there's a solution! Force your teenage dad to grow a pair, get him to start a fight with Biff, the town bully, and woo your teenage mom back! Its almost like Hollywood wrote it.

How bizarre. I mean who decides, one day, to see if time goes faster or slower in space. I mean science fiction aside, time is one of those things I think of as pretty concrete. But now there's a "fabric of time". Does it rip? Can we sew it back up if it does rip? Are Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock actually going to travel back to the 20's or 30's to rescue a drugged, crazed Dr. McCoy? (Yes that is an actual Star Trek episode, and yes I've seen it.) These are questions I must have the answers to!

Final Thought: I love watching these science and history shows. They take these very advanced topics, strip them down to easily digestible theories and then add lots of graphics. If only school was that easy. Let's be honest, I could never do the legwork to see what happens in a black hole, but I can understand a narrator explaining what would happen with an animated visual of an astronaut getting pulverized. God, I love TV.

The Best Feeling

Here I am, in cozy Washington, resting my feet on the desk and watching as it rains cold, ugly rain while Connecticut is experiencing cold, beautiful snow. That one disappointment aside, I am having a great weekend.

I got in on Friday night, where I was welcomed to a surprise party in my apartment. I saw a lot of friends that I wasn't expecting to, and we had good times until the early morning. Also, I found out that there's a Thomas the Tank Engine movie, and that it's On Demand. I watched part of it before deciding I was too tired to go to sleep. The suspense is killing me, I must find out how it ends!

Pike Semi-Formal was on Saturday night, and I had a great time. Having not really told a whole hell of a lot of people I was coming, I showed up to the bar fashionably late. Before I even got a chance to show the bouncer my ID, brothers were already making off hand comments like, "Holy shit, its Jordan!" The bouncer had barely given me a wristband before there was literally a "JORDAN!' chant echoing throughout the bar. I was extremely flattered, to say the least. The entire night, brothers kept coming up to me and telling me how happy they were to see me, and that they were glad I was OK and doing well. Many commented about the appropriateness of me being the one to have a cane. I left the semi at around 1:00am and headed to Kelsey's 21st celebration at Buffalo Billiards. That was also very fun, and once again I got to see more people who were very glad to see me and who had been concerned about my condition. Not that I'm an egoist or anything (disclosure: I kind of am) but it's really just a very warming feeling to know that so many people were behind me and pulling for me. And now that I'm doing well enough to make it down to the District, you all are embracing me with open arms. This sounds corny, but it really means a lot to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Continuing right along...Sunday began with a bang at noon. I met up with even more friends at Ivory for lunch, and as it turns out, every time I tried to leave, I ran into more people and stayed and chatted in Ivory until literally until around 5:00pm. Hung out with the neighbors for a bit then went to chapter. At chapter, I got a dollar from Galmiche (the highest honor one can achieve in the Chapter Room) for having nasty wounds and everyone (sober this time) was really glad that I was doing a lot better and exhibited genuine concern for my health and well being.

I must be honest, I didn't know what to expect when I got on the train to get down here, but the outpouring of support and kind feeling has been truly overwhelming. It's been great to be back, and although people have tons of work to do, they still made time to see me, say hello, and see how I'm doing.

On another positive note, Camille came back from Ireland on Saturday, so now when I call her standard rates apply instead of exorbitant international rates. Hooray!

I'm out of here on Tuesday, so I'm sure I'll get another post in about the great times I've been having in DC. But seriously, thanks to all of you who have called, or sent me emails, or Facebook messages, or texted, or in any way gotten me through this particularly gruesome experience that has been the last two months of my life. I truly could not haven gotten through it without you.

Perhaps some day, I'll write up the sometimes comical tale of my hospital stay. Until then.

Why am I the only one up at 3:00am?

I mean it would just be nice if I had someone to talk to. I don't think I'm an insomniac because it's not like I roll around for hours in bed waiting to fall asleep. Randomly, I just started getting into this embarrassing BBC soap opera called "Hotel Babylon". It is exactly what it sounds like, a soap opera involving the day-to-day operations of a very high end hotel in London. I think it's the accents, they just suck me in. Also the actress that plays the manager is this not-quite-middle-aged woman who I just find resoundingly attractive.

A quick aside: the last 20 minutes of The Departed is really just amazing. I love the whole movie but the end is just really...good. It's not because everyone dies in the The Godfather kind of way (though they do, and if I ruined the movie for you, it came out well over a year ago so get over it) it's that it's just so damn unexpected. Also the background score is noticeably absent which, if nothing else, makes the scene even more powerful.

I must admit, I'm spending all this time sitting on my ass watching TV and I really wish I spent my time being more creative. Like write a story, come up with a new, revolutionary idea, or come up with a novel idea on what to make my parents for a gift so I don't have to buy thing.

Well thats all for now, tune in next week for when mice make homes in glass houses.

My Leg. Gross.

Went to the plastic surgeon today. The good news is that he works at Yale and therefore knows what he's talking about. Also as it turns out I'm healing quite nicely. The doctor also told me that I don't need to bandage my leg quite the same. I am finding quite a big of humor out of it because at least on one side it looks like two Band-Aids are holding the whole thing together. They might be. And now, for your viewing pleasure: the (almost literally) Band Aid on the broken leg.

A Random Thought

If you make a mistake typing a text message in T9 or iTap or whatever you want to call it on cell phones, is it still a typo? Because chances are you'll just get a completely different word.

Furthermore, if you mean type in the numbers 6 and 3 to get "of", but the phone decides it wants to go with "me" and you don't pick up on it, is that still a typo. I mean it's a completely different word.

These are questions I must have the answers to.

Will It Blend? - Guitar Hero III

YouTube really does have some ridiculous stuff on it. Get past the Family Guy clips, the plethora of music videos, and Bro Rape, and you are still left with a phenomenal amount of really bizarre shit. Take, for example, Will It Blend?

This guy just takes random objects and blends the living hell out of them. Now don't get me wrong, this is cool as hell, but does he actually work for a blending company? I imagine he must as he destroys some rather expensive items. So let's assume he does work for a company. I think this company needs to hire a publicity company because they need more press. For example, the host pulverizes the daylights out of an iPhone. Do I need a blender that can cause this much destruction? Of course not, but I want one, because you never know when you need to grind up your most recent term paper you failed...or that cinder block thats been sitting on your fire escape since you moved in.

So in conclusion, keep on destroying cool shit, Will It Blend Host. I'll be rooting for you.

High Quality Doctors

One of the conditions of my leaving the hospital was that I had to have a primary care physician in Connecticut lined up to manage my care. Well, as it turns out, the last doctor I had here was my pediatrician. So we make the appropriate appointments, and out I go. Well not quite, but bear with me here.

I had my first (and subsequently my last) appointment with my pediatrician--who shall remain nameless--on Friday. Apparently it took me a couple of days to write about it. Regardless, My mom and I go in for a quick checkup of my leg (which has two gigantic incisions in it) to make sure it was healing properly. Just to get you, fair reader, up to speed, on my inner-left leg, I have about 10 inches of "linear" a.k.a. normal stitches that honestly looks like something out of Pirates of the Caribbean. The surgeons couldn't close the other side so they had to use a skin graft, which makes the wound look like an eye. Delicious. The only things protecting my wounds from the outside air are some Vaseline gauze, some non-stick pads and an ace bandage.

Anyway, my mom and I begin unwrapping the ace and taking the wrappings off, and Dr. Weak Stomach just begins backing away. He looks at my leg (from across the room) and made the determination that everything looked all right from a medical standpoint. He then added--and this is what kills me--"but man does that [my skin graft] look gross." I mean, don't get me wrong, it does indeed look gross, but that is definitely not what you want to hear from a medical professional regarding your body. I'm sure our faithful doctor made a similar comment the last time he saw a wound like that--in his textbook in med school.

I mean look, the man is a good pediatrician, but he just wasn't set up for this. At this point, I attempted to end the appointment as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there. I quickly discard all the information that Dr. Bedside Manner had annunciated to me and made a mental note to never go back there again.

Since then, and say what you will, I've decided to keep my care within the Ivy League community. Elitist? Yes? But I didn't spend 24 days in the hospital to have some joker with a degree from the back of a cereal box fuck it up in the last quarter mile. Is that even an expression? I doubt it.

So now that I've officially decided I'm rambling, I bid you, dear reader, adieu.

Why I Love the BBC

So I'm watching a special about Princes Charles and Williams and how they are "Royal Rivals". The narrator discussed how Charles and Diana took their children on lots of exotic vacations.

The narrator begins "Charles and Diana took their kids on lots of exotic vacations," then a pause as the visuals show the kids racing around a very green area on quads. When one discusses the British Royal Family and exotic vacations, one thinks of areas like Myanmar (or as the British still lovingly refer to it, Burma), or Fiji, or Timbuktu. Not so much I quickly found out, as the narrator continued, "such as Goldie Hawn's Colorado ranch."

Ah yes, Colorado...exotic. I mean not to knock the great state of Colorado, but it seems as exotic to me as a trip to the supermarket. So go ahead BBC, keep thinking that Colorado is exotic, and I'll keep trying to figure out why the British Pound is doing so well.

Out of the hospital

So one of the many reasons I've not posted in a while is that I just spent the last three and a half weeks in the hospital. The good news is that now I'm out and after the insane monotony of that place, I'm going to need to get some creative writing flowing in order to not lose my mind.

On that note, more to come.

Explosions In The Sky

It's probably not what you're thinking. They're a band I've been listening to a lot recently, and I thought I should share my enjoyment with the world. They also contributed the majority of the soundtrack of Friday Night Lights. They're also from Texas.

Wikipedia describes Explosions as 'post-rock'. I'm entirely sure what that means, but I'm going to go ahead and call them an instrumental band that immediately evokes an emotional response. You will know instantly if you love or hate them, and, quite frankly, I love them.

Their songs, especially the ones found on Friday Night Lights Soundtrack are so damn uplifting it hurts. I also have to strongly recommend their album, "The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place". It just makes me feel so empowered. Like I can go out and succeed at whatever I should so desire. Strong instrumentals, especially the base guitar and drums (note: this might be the entire band, though there are definitely symbols) really just make the album come alive.

So go out, listen to some of their songs. I don't think you will be dissappointed.

The Peak of White People Dancing

I'm watching The Cat's Meow right now, and I've come to a very important realization. The Charleston (seen below) was the peak of white person dancing.

This influential style of dancing was made popular in the 1920's, and was considered by some to be the height of decadence. It mainly consists of awkwardly flailing one's arms and possibly one's legs in a bizarre manner. There has been nothing so easy for those of the Caucasian persuasion as this dance. No wonder they say white people can't dance. It's not that we can't dance, its that the styles of the times have progressed beyond the maximum skill of white people.

In conclusion: The times may change, but white people dancing still sucks.

Two Quick Product Reviews

The 52(ish) inch Rear Projection TV in our condo in Myrtle Beach

Awesome. Kinda sucks during the day because the glare makes the image really hard to see. Though I should be at the beach anyway.

Amber Bock (a product of Michelob)

The first sip of this beer said this, "I need to invest in some of this!" Halfway through the beer I realized that the beer a. needs to stay cold longer and b. it totally gets worse as you drink more. By the time the last sip came around, it was decidedly pretty bad. But like any true gentleman should, I finished it.

Next week's reviews: an ethernet cable and steering wheels.

New Away Message Rules

I sometimes get bored at work, this is a fact of life. One of the perks of my current occupation is that I get to be in AIM at work, so I tend to do a lot of away message checking.

It is this scenario that has forced me to lay down one ground rule when it comes to away messages: If it's after 12:00pm, your away message may no longer be "bedtime" "sleeping" "good night" or anything that implies that you have not woken up yet.

Because, to be blunt, you keeping up these away messages serves one purpose: to anger me. And not just me, but the entire working class that sees your away messages. (Note: I use working class to imply people that have to get up and go to their jobs, not as commentary on socio-economic classes.)

Now don't get me wrong, I am all for sleeping late, I do it every chance I can. But I can't most days and you should respect it. So when you decide you want to sleep until 3:00pm on a Tuesday, put up something else. A song lyric, a movie quote, the standard "I am away". Something that doesn't make me want to come over and kick you until you wake up.

Thank you for your consideration.

New Scrutiny for Facebook Over Predators (NYT)

There's an article on the New York Times about predators turning to Facebook.

Business / Media & Advertising

New Scrutiny for Facebook Over Predators

By BRAD STONE

Published: July 30, 2007

Like MySpace before it, Facebook, the online social network, is being subjected to accusations that it does not do enough to keep sexual predators off its site.
Permalink (pops)

Apparently "a concerned parent" opened up an account posing as a 15 year old girl. This pedophile turned concerned citizen listed their relationship status as "Whatever I can get" and joined such groups as:

• addicted to masterbation...and you know if you are!
• Facebook Swingers
  
• I'm Curious about Incest

Now I don't know from firsthand experience, but I'm going to guess that you are not going to find particularly savory members of society in any of these groups.

Furthermore, the 'concerned parent' accepted friendship with people much older than this 15 year old made up girl. Including a bald man with a goatee from Toronto.

Now I watch To Catch A Predator with Chris Hansen, and I think we all know that bald men with goatees are bad news bears.

I mean lets be serious now, if I buy Porsche convertible, take it to Flatbush, park it with the top down and keys in the ignition, I can't really get mad because someone stole my car.

Yes there are bad people on the internet, but I think Facebook has done a very good job about keeping them away from the disillusioned youth of Facebook.

The only reason the story got picked up by the Times is because Reuters released it first and was hyping it up. So just keep your pants on America, Facebook is still safe. As long as your not an idiot.

Lindsay Lohan, You Stupid Stupid Person

So I don't know if you've read this, but Lindsay Lohan got busted last night for a DUI. She also happened to be in possession of cocaine. What an idiot.

I mean the girl just got out of rehab for Christ sakes. Come on Lindsay, Haven't you ever heard of livery service? You're rich and famous so I must assume you have.

At the very least, if you do decide to drive while under the influence, you could at least have the common courtesy to remove the cocaine from your pocket. I mean you've been out of rehab for what, 11 days?

Lock it up Lohan

Looking for love in all the wrong places

Quite possibly the best Craigslist post I've ever seen.

I don't know how long the link is going to be active, so I've taken the liberty to repost the entire ad. If you can't figure out what this person's talking about, you're an idiot.

I can see the trees - w4m - 26

---

Reply to: pers-380265904@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-07-23, 12:49PM EDT


Hey there

I am a woman looking to unload some trees - I bought too many. I will only meet in public since I am not interested in hooking up (sexually). Please be normal and just a lover of good things. I can meet as early as 2 or 3pm today. Please be discreet. Pork-free products :0) Merry Jane

• Location: washington DC
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 380265904


The link:
http://washingtondc.craigslist.org/doc/stp/380265904.html

A Short Story

The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over the Lazy Dog

This was all he could write. He had covered the Balkans, Iraq I, and the 2000 election fiasco. Now, for the last four years he was a freelance writer—correction, fiction writer.

His editor had said he lost his spark. That was seven years ago. The paper kept him on for another three years, hoping that he could get it back. Finally they got fed up and let him go. He hadn’t written an article that was published in over three years.

The paper was kind enough to fire him, so he could file for welfare. This was how he’d survived—that and his extremely modest 401K.

Now, two weeks into his project, he had one sentence on paper. And he only had that because he couldn’t think of anything better.

Initially he had wanted to write something big, to be the next Hemingway or Salinger. Now he just wanted to be published.

There was no computer in his apartment—he wrote everything by hand as a matter of course.. Next to him on the left was a stack of blank paper. To his right was a mostly finished bottle of scotch. Beside desk lay a garbage can mostly filled with totally empty bottles of scotch.

Sitting at his desk, he poured the remaining scotch into an old-fashioned glass with two ice cubes. He wasn’t worried, he had another bottle in the cupboard.

He caressed his pen, drawing lazy circles on the paper. Nothing. There’s always tomorrow, he thought to himself, downing the remaining scotch.

My Phone is a Racist

I got a replacement Motorola RAZR today, and discovered a fun little fact while using the T9 feature for text messages.

Fun Fact:
Typing in the numbers 7, 4, 2, and 5, as in my buddy "nick" defaults in the word "mick" as in look at that stupid fucking Irish mick.

Motorola, propagating racial stereotypes one cell phone at a time.

Harry Potter's Cock...

Sometimes I wonder if they do this stuff intentionally just to get people to click on the link. This is an actual screenshot of the YouTube homepage at around 5:00pm, I just enlarged it a bit

Ho-Ho-Kus

I don't know why this is agitating me so much but it is.

Whenever I try to type any of the following words on T9:

• go
• im
• in

My damn cell phone keeps defaulting to "ho". I don't recall ever using the word ho, let alone using it enough to become the go-to word.

In conclusion, pick it up Motorola. And for that matter, AT&T/Cingular, make up your mind, pick a name and stick to it. First we were AT&T customers, then they got bought out by Cingular, so we became Cingular customers. Now Cingular is the new AT&T. Make up your mind!

Done.

Random Stories of the last Week

A bunch of rather bizarre occurrences happened to me over the last few weeks, and I thought I would take the time out of my busy day to share them with you, my loyal reader.

Lets begin with Drunk Metro Girl, a fable about a girl, on the metro, not even the tiniest bit sober.

What makes this story so interesting (or bizarre, or both), is the setting. It takes place between the Foggy Bottom metro stop and McPherson Square. At around 8:45 in the morning. The train was crowded, but not packed. For most of the ride she was just standing, staring at nothing with a smile fixed on her face. She was standing next to the right-hand exit, i was standing across from her, on the left.

For a while, I thought she was high on meth or some equally worthless street drug. (While not homeless, this woman was obviously not well dressed, she was also probably early 20's).

Between Farragut West and McPherson Square, the train stopped--not an uncommon event given the frequency of trains running in the morning. Our protagonist immediately begins shouting "head on!" to the whole car. For a while, I didn't understand what she was saying, then suddenly it clicked.

She was cackling, literally cackling like an old evil witch in between her bouts of shouting. Then, and I can't say when the rest of the car figured out, i realized she was hoping for a head-on collision of trains. Wow.

Finally the train starts moving again, and we pull into McPherson Square. She looks disappointed. She sets out a sigh signaling her disappointment that we are all still alive. As the first person off, Our Heroine informs me that I am not worthy to get off. Pushing past her, I may or may not have made a comment about her level of intoxication and what time it was. She may or may not have jumped out of the train, yelled "What the fuck did you just say to me" and then get at least part of her body (I heard her yell "Oh Shit") stuck in the closing doors. The very same doors that the voice of the Metro tells you to stand clear of.

There's no real good end to this story, so I'm just going to stop it here. It amused me, and really, that's all that matters.

Story #2, much shorter, and once again, more of an anecdote than a story:
A Loan to a Homeless Man

I was walking down the street the other day, when this man I know to be homeless asked me if he could borrow 50 cents. Though I just kind of shrugged my shoulders in that "no" kind of way, I had a couple questions I was dying to ask.

1. Do you have any collateral to put up for this loan?
2. Do you have a cosigner?

I also planned to ask for his personal information to perform a credit check, but alas, I never got around to any of these things.

Closing up my delightful anecdote, I wonder if he has better luck "borrowing" money than he does just asking for hand outs.

Then again, who am I to judge, maybe he does really give it back.

Entourage D.C.

While some Entourage fans may think they know everything about the show, a little known fact is that Executive Producer Mark Wahlberg actually pitched the idea to George Bush and his entourage first. Although most of these original episodes have been lost, the team from SuperNews has recreated one of the best episodes just for Current.

Not Cool, Technology

There are a lot of ways to communicate with other human beings in today's society. One can text, call, email, IM, or Google Chat. Hell, you can even Facebook message should you so desire.

Unfortunately, at work, there are limited options for communicating with the outside world (or worse, keeping yourself entertained). I am fortunate enough to be able to use any means at my disposal, but not all are so fortunate. Therefore, the vast majority of my time here at work is consumed by two sources: Google Chat and Facebook.

This week, both of them shit the bed.

It started off with GChat. One second, we're all talking having a grand old time, the next thing you know, we were trapped in Google limbo, able to connect to the GChat application, but unable to even start a conversation, let alone chat with several people.

And then, not even 48 hours later, the unthinkable happened: Facebook crashed. All around the world, interns were forced to do real work, walls could not be posted to and *gasp* pictures from that totally awesome party last night could not be posted. It was a catastrophe.

Suddenly, like Hurricane Katrina, as soon as this glitch appeared, it vanished. World order was restored, the flood waters were receding, and the looting was returning to normal levels.

I guess there's really only one lesson to take away from this week of weeks. The real world really is just like Office Space.

The Coolest Picture I've Seen All Day

I stole this from the New York Times, it was taken at La Guardia on June 14

(click on the image for full size)

This Makes Me Sick

ADVERTISING

Pigs With Cellphones, but No Condoms

By ANDREW ADAM NEWMAN

Published: June 18, 2007

Fox, which along with CBS rejected a Trojan commercial, said that “contraceptive advertising must stress health-related uses rather than the prevention of pregnancy.”
Click Here to Read (pops)

The article talks about a new ad campaign that Trojan Condoms is putting out. Two out of the four networks rejected the advertisement, not because it was lewd, but because promoted the anti-pregnancy aspects of condoms (rather than the health aspects).

What?

The reasoning behind this ridiculous situation is that the networks apparently think that these condom ads are "controversial for religious and moral reasons." This also includes late-night TV, where commercials about small penis Enzyte Bob run rampant.

According to Shari'a Law, Muslims are not allowed to drink alcohol. That doesn't deter the networks from showing beer and alcohol commercials--not to mention those awful Disorono commercials.

Why should it be any different with condoms? If you're going to have sex, use Trojan, the commercial says. Its the exact message as Budweiser or Smirnoff send--if you're going to drink, drink our product.

Claiming that advertising condoms are going to make more people have sex is akin to saying that teaching safer sex in schools will get more people pregnant. It's completely ridiculous.

And when did the networks decide it was their responsibility to teach America morals? I'm sure after shows like "The Bachelor" and that one where women get plastic surgery (Extreme Makeover maybe? ), these people have a lot of credibility to dictate morals to us. On late-night TV no less.

Brilliant.

This is Awful

I am sorry, young man, that you are a virgin. I am also sorry that you have never had a girlfriend, and that your friends thought it would be funny to announce all of this information to the world.
But I'm not sorry I called you and found out it was a fake number. Bastard.

J Street Gets Changed Around Again!

I was sent this (pops) fascinating article in the GW Hatchet Online about how J Street is changing around this year. I swear that I've read this article somewhere before. About how they were doing the exact same thing for the 06-07 school year. Oh wait, I did, and so can you by clicking here (pops).

The article explains that we were severing our contract with Aramark and switching to Sodexo because Aramark didn't understand our needs. As it turns out, Sodexo doesn't understand our needs either.

Two thoughts:
1. Ask the students what they want. Because lets be honest, GW Administration, you have absolutely no idea. And don't do something typically GW and put surveys in J-Street. It's not those kids whose ideas you value. It's the 90% of the school that doesn't go there. Don't email either, because I delete GW emails on principle.

2. Stop charging such high rent! J Street loses so many good options because GW has unrealistically high expectations of their contractors. First, reduce GWorld commissions to something reasonable, like 3%. Right now, according to one vendor, they're hovering around 12.5% of a sale. Thats exorbitant. It's also keeping out smaller vendors that cannot afford to take that kind of margin cut.

We'll check in next year to see if GW can go three years in a row of royally fucking up our dining options.

Condi Rice Raps

The funniest thing you'll see in a long time.

Remember me?

So I realize that it's been a while since I've written here, but I figure now is as good of a time as ever to start back up, so here I am.

This is going to be real short.

I am watching a To Catch A Predator marathon on MSNBC, and god damn I love this show.

True Story

Blanket Statement: if you list all three of your names on Facebook, there are two scenarios:

1. You are a serial killer (men)
2. You are an evil bitch (women, and some men at GW)

At the end of the day, you just suck.

Quick

Want to know something that really drives me crazy? Well you're reading this so I assume you do. It's when people say "I wish my life was more like the movies" and yet they are, in fact, in a movie.

Let's be honest with ourselves for a second. Your life is more like the movies. As a matter of fact, your life is a movie. I know that because I'm watching it. So in conclusion, think of something better to say.

Can Atheists have Morals?

I came across this delightful little web poll yesterday at work. My boss asked me to look up an email address for this radio station, so I go to the website in an attempt to find it, and instead, this pops up on my screen.

News Radio Fox, as it turns out, is a conservative radio station in none other than southeast Texas. A big banner that is smack dab in the middle of the web page asks you to vote in this ridiculous survey. So I clicked on it, voted that yes, atheists can have morals, and found out that I was in the minority. By a lot. Kind of appalled, I googled morals, and found out that morals are an "ethical motive: motivation based on ideas of right and wrong" (from Princeton Wordnet) .

Can an atheist have morals. News Radio Fox is essentially asking the people of southwest Texas (and me) if people who do not believe in God can still have a concept of right and wrong. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the bible is the only source of ethical standards in America today.

I really just find the whole exercise depressing. And not just because they spelled "atheist" wrong. By suggesting that atheists cannot have morals, they are implying that atheists are not people. This is why Radical Middle Easterners want to kill us. When a society belittles a sub sect, the whole society is lessened.

Fair and Balanced?

This is the commercial for a new show on the Fox News Channel. And they have the nerve to call themselves fair and balanced. OK, now I really have to go write my paper.

An Addendum to the Previously Posted Open letter.

I forgot about this gem, and I guess I'm only posting it because I don't believe that it's true.

"The grammar is terrible. Sentences range from run-on to stunted and awkward"

Really, you think I have a problem with my grammar, maybe I should read it a little more thoroughly and carefully, but then again who has the time to do such things as that. Maybe you do. Maybe go fuck yourself.

I have good grammar, you pompous bullshit artist. If I didn't, then I probably wouldn't be so mad about that comment.

P.S. (that stands for post script, but I'm sure you already knew that)
Next time, please stop using so many $5 words. Especially in your case, 50-cent words work just fine. Ass.

An Open Letter to the person who peer-edited my paper.

Dear Asshole,

The purpose of constructive criticism is to help a person get better at their paper, not by jabbing at them to make yourself feel better.

"The tone of your paper is completely inappropriate. This is not intended to be a conversation with your boss...If you had actually composed this paper in the workplace you would be fired."

Sir, you are poorly mistaken. The purpose of this school is not to get a degree in writing Legalese, and boring inter-office memos that get placed into the circular file without so much as a second glance.

I would be fired if I wrote something like this? I have written something like this before. Actually several times. Uh oh, that was a fragment sentence, I guess my blog should be deleted. Guess what? I wasn't fired! My boss read it, and liked it!

But wait, you say, I am using a completely incorrect tone. My sentence structure isn't perfect, and I'm using *gasp* colloquial phrases. But in college, they taught us to only use bland, semi-articulate language so that the reader decides it's a better use of his time to wipe his ass with the paper than finish it.

You often mention a study that I cite throughout the FIRST DRAFT OF MY PAPER. Odd, I didn't mention any study while I was writing it, nor did I find any reference to a study when I re-read it.

"Your paper is riddled with things such as this."

How can my paper be riddled with anything?

In case you cannot read that, let me help you out. "Damaged throughout by numerous perforations or holes." I wish I knew what was riddling my paper, but because you didn't define the pronoun in the sentence, I guess we'll never know. Because the document sure as shit wasn't full of holes.

"An example is the statement of liberal or conservative bias in your two media sources. This is not a given. Did someone prominent say this?"

That's a valid point you make, I didn't explain whether my news sources had a purported liberal or conservative slant. TOO FUCKING BAD ITS THE NEW YORK TIMES AND FOX NEWS. Have you had your head in the sand for the last 18 to 21 years of your miserable life. Everybody prominent says this. In case you're still lost, The New York Times has a liberal slant, and Fox News has a conservative bias. Fascinating use of language right there, slant vs. bias, but I'll discuss that in another post.

Quite simply, if you don't know by now that The New York Times is left leaning and Fox News is right, then you do not deserve to go to this school any longer.

Let me now take the time to reiterate what I just wrote. I learned how to do this in third grade for the 5 paragraph essay prompts. I don't like doing this in my papers, which you pointed out, because it's repetitive, and guess what? I already said everything I'm about to say in the conclusion.

In conclusion, go fuck yourself, you pompous, arrogant fuck. Maybe if you took the time to grow a pair and get out of your one track 'Scholarly Research Paper' mentality that is about as narrow-minded as George Bush's Iraq strategy, we could be friends.

But until then, I hate you.

Sincerely Yours,

Jordan Weil.

Something I Think we all already knew....

A buddy told me about this the other day, I find it humorous.

Golf Lesson, or Wishful Thinking

"You are gripping the club too tightly" said the pro.

"Well, what should I do?" asked the man.
"Hold the club gently," the pro replied, "just like you'd hold your wife's
breast."
Taking the advice, he took a swing, and POW!, he hit the ball 250 yards
straight up the fairway. The ecstatic man went back home telling his wife
the good news about his lesson, and, the wife couldn't wait for her lesson.

The next day, the wife went for her lesson. The pro watched her swing and
said, "No, no, no, you're gripping the club way too hard."

"What can I do?" asked the wife.
"Hold the club gently, just like you'd hold your husband's penis."
The wife listened carefully to the pro's advice, took a swing, and,
THUMP! -- the ball skipped down the fairway about 15 feet.

"You know, that was a lot better than I expected," the pro said. "Now,
lets get that club out of your mouth and into your hands..."

Everything that is Wrong with America...and then some

(I wrote this post on the plane back from London)

They say that nothing good is ever on airline TV. I disagree. Today I watched two excellent movies, The Last King of Scotland and All the King’s Horses. I guess you could say that I was in a political mood today. Regardless, that’s not what I’m writing about.

With less than the time it takes to watch a full movie, I decided to turn on a TV show, and selected 30 Days: Binge Drinking. Two words: Fuck you Morgan Spurlocker. Ok that’s four words. Anyway, we follow this suburban housewife that doesn’t drink and see the effects of her binge drinking for 30 days. Morgan informs us that binge drinking is four drinks in two hours. Ok, not a problem, except that the daughter is a total sorority slut and mom is an extreme lightweight. P.S. this takes place at Arizona State.

The premise of this show is that college students are alcoholics and we need to change the system. Yeah well you guys did it too.

On the first night, Mom drinks a bottle of wine in two hours, and gets pretty hammered. She then throws up in the middle of the night, and was a complete disaster the whole next day. Yes, if that happened to all us college students, that would be a problem. Also, mom, your life is very boring. An exact quote from the show: “Mom’s life went from housework and exercise to drinking and hangovers”. Shit, that sounds like an upgrade to me.

Oh here’s an update. The nurse that Mom goes to in order to see how she’s holding up is a recovered alcoholic. Wow, sounds just a little set up to me.

The show keeps talking about how mom isn’t showing the dangers of drinking to her kid. Maybe it’s because ‘*gasp* drinking isn’t bad for you. I must say, though, Daughter is pretty hot, but daughter’s friend has a pretty bad nosejob.

My god, I think this is just about the least convincing argument to stop drinking ever. And daughter agrees. The worst part is, the majority of the time, mom looks like she’s having an absolutely fantastic time when she goes out, with a voiceover saying this is bad. You know how to reduce binge drinking, let kids drink younger. American youth have the rate of alcoholism ever. And we also have the highest drinking age, with the exception of one of those Mid-Eastern nations that doesn’t allow women to drive.

I had a very interesting conversation with a publord in Paris. Yeah, that’s right, I go all the way to Paris and find the one Scottish pub to sit in for 4 hours. Shocking, I know. So we’re sitting there, and all of a sudden these French schoolchildren just walk on in and sit down. They don’t drink. They don’t try. The drinking age is 16 there, and they don’t even try to break it. The publord told me that they try to get them to drink, but they don’t. So what I learned out of that is responsible drinking from a younger age will foster responsible drinking habits throughout life. It’s this reactionary conservative propaganda that is the reason that the system is changing. There, that’s right, Morgan Spurlocker, your show added to the binge drinking culture, and strengthened it. The complete opposite of what you wanted to do. Why? Because you’re an idiot.