Jeff I've kept you waiting for your description but by 12:00 midnight tonight, it will be done.
Is today something special or am I just hallucinating? Oh well.
So.
No subject is like how an email doesn't have a subject.
TOtB contest tomorrow. So get those entries comin'.
Can't wait for next Thursday. For from then things start being fun.
Thursday: Guys and Dolls
Friday: Classified
Saturday: Guys and Dolls, Party
Sunday: Guys and Dolls
Yeah. That's it.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Pirates of Whatever
Holy crap.
That was not a good movie.
In fact, you might even call it a bad movie.
You know why?
CAUSE IT WAS BAD!
First off, I thought the animation was incredible and the fighting was pretty cool.
But now for the problems.
First: the music. There was no new music in this movie. It was all the same. And it kept working itself into a frenzy and then stopping! I like this technique to create suspense in a movie but it doesn't work if you do it like FORTY TIMES! Like, with one scene, the music would climb to a climax and stop, and then do it again like 10 more times. That isn't how you do it.
Bah.
Second, there were too many plot lines at once. I was so confused. And why did they want to kill Jack Sparrow?
Third, there were so many disposable people. Like there were maybe 12 people in that cage but like 300 or so crewing The Black Pearl later. It was stupid.
Fourth, cliffhanger was bizarre.
So yeah. That's why I didn't like this movie.
That was not a good movie.
In fact, you might even call it a bad movie.
You know why?
CAUSE IT WAS BAD!
First off, I thought the animation was incredible and the fighting was pretty cool.
But now for the problems.
First: the music. There was no new music in this movie. It was all the same. And it kept working itself into a frenzy and then stopping! I like this technique to create suspense in a movie but it doesn't work if you do it like FORTY TIMES! Like, with one scene, the music would climb to a climax and stop, and then do it again like 10 more times. That isn't how you do it.
Bah.
Second, there were too many plot lines at once. I was so confused. And why did they want to kill Jack Sparrow?
Third, there were so many disposable people. Like there were maybe 12 people in that cage but like 300 or so crewing The Black Pearl later. It was stupid.
Fourth, cliffhanger was bizarre.
So yeah. That's why I didn't like this movie.
Monday, July 10, 2006
An Apple a Day
So this is a first for me. I am officially blogging from...
duh duh duh duuuuuuuh.
A MACINTOSH. I am sitting on Jon's bed in his room here in Lewes, DE. Well, technically it's our guest room, but he's using it for the week. So yeah. It's fun.
He's sitting sitting on the otherside of the bed, leaning on the headboard.
This is his laptop, but my parents were sick of me using their computer so I'm using Jon's.
I like the feel of this keyboard... it's funny.
And I feel like using a mac has made my writing style different. Is my writing style different?
Ah, well. So I'm going to do Jon's first cause he's sitting right here, and then Jeff's tomorrow or the next day, cause I'll bring a camera to Guys and Dolls. I'll tell you, it's incredibly difficult to do these without a picture. I'll be home tomorrow (but back the next day) so I'll grab my yearbook.
Okay, so, without further ado, Jon's Book Description!
Sam thought Jon was tall. Of course, when you're as short as Sam was, everyone was tall. But Jon was especially tall.
He was probably the oldest person Sam could call a "friend" only. I mean, he could call his sister a friend, but she was also his sister.
Jon's height fit him well. He wasn't one of those very tall people that seemed to simply be tall only by chance, but rather the rest of him adapted. He was strong and had a wide chest.
When someone met him the first thing they thought was probably not that he was tall, but later they would realize that he was tall for his age.
He had a head of curly black hair; the front which seemed to consider having bangs, but curl up just before. He had rectangular glasses that had rounded corners, behind which lurked his eyes, which changed with the seasons; a hazel in the winter and fall, and a gray-green in the spring and summer. His cheeks were a tad red, and the bridge of his nose a bit narrower than most.
He didn't play an instrument, as far as Sam knew, but it seemed as though he had musical talent. When he would hum along to his iPod he would be on key, and when he drummed quietly upon a tabletop his tempo would not waver.
Playing cards, Jon was a sight to see. He had an unusual strategy for most games that was extremely effective, and picked up new games very quickly. That is, he wouldn't "pick them up". Anyone could understand a card game. Within a half-hour of teaching Jon "euchre", Sam watched in amazement as Jon calmly pulled in all five tricks. He acted as though he was a casual chess-player, but was also very good at the game.
Jon was funny. His jokes appealed to all ages, which Sam admired. While Sam's jokes could make kids his age laugh, Jon's jokes could send his mother, Sam's sister, and Sam into stitches all at the same time.
duh duh duh duuuuuuuh.
A MACINTOSH. I am sitting on Jon's bed in his room here in Lewes, DE. Well, technically it's our guest room, but he's using it for the week. So yeah. It's fun.
He's sitting sitting on the otherside of the bed, leaning on the headboard.
This is his laptop, but my parents were sick of me using their computer so I'm using Jon's.
I like the feel of this keyboard... it's funny.
And I feel like using a mac has made my writing style different. Is my writing style different?
Ah, well. So I'm going to do Jon's first cause he's sitting right here, and then Jeff's tomorrow or the next day, cause I'll bring a camera to Guys and Dolls. I'll tell you, it's incredibly difficult to do these without a picture. I'll be home tomorrow (but back the next day) so I'll grab my yearbook.
Okay, so, without further ado, Jon's Book Description!
Sam thought Jon was tall. Of course, when you're as short as Sam was, everyone was tall. But Jon was especially tall.
He was probably the oldest person Sam could call a "friend" only. I mean, he could call his sister a friend, but she was also his sister.
Jon's height fit him well. He wasn't one of those very tall people that seemed to simply be tall only by chance, but rather the rest of him adapted. He was strong and had a wide chest.
When someone met him the first thing they thought was probably not that he was tall, but later they would realize that he was tall for his age.
He had a head of curly black hair; the front which seemed to consider having bangs, but curl up just before. He had rectangular glasses that had rounded corners, behind which lurked his eyes, which changed with the seasons; a hazel in the winter and fall, and a gray-green in the spring and summer. His cheeks were a tad red, and the bridge of his nose a bit narrower than most.
He didn't play an instrument, as far as Sam knew, but it seemed as though he had musical talent. When he would hum along to his iPod he would be on key, and when he drummed quietly upon a tabletop his tempo would not waver.
Playing cards, Jon was a sight to see. He had an unusual strategy for most games that was extremely effective, and picked up new games very quickly. That is, he wouldn't "pick them up". Anyone could understand a card game. Within a half-hour of teaching Jon "euchre", Sam watched in amazement as Jon calmly pulled in all five tricks. He acted as though he was a casual chess-player, but was also very good at the game.
Jon was funny. His jokes appealed to all ages, which Sam admired. While Sam's jokes could make kids his age laugh, Jon's jokes could send his mother, Sam's sister, and Sam into stitches all at the same time.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Skimboarding?
Skimboarding involves throwing a piece of wood onto sand that has a centimeter of water on top. The only time there is sand with a centimeter of water on top is when a wave has just broken. You must throw your piece of wood, which is extremely thin and extremely slippery, onto the water and take a running jump on top of it. Then you glide about five feet until the wave has receded and you are just on wet sand.
An eight-year-old from Utah is teaching me how.
This translates to:
This is almost definitely my last post.
But otherwise: Jeff, you're up next. Then Jon, then Jen.
Jeff
Jon
Jen
Freaky...
An eight-year-old from Utah is teaching me how.
This translates to:
This is almost definitely my last post.
But otherwise: Jeff, you're up next. Then Jon, then Jen.
Jeff
Jon
Jen
Freaky...
Saturday, July 08, 2006
666
Ich! You're getting your faith all over me.
Sheesh.
Anyway... I have this bug bite on my neck and it really itches.
Okay so the winner of the "Think Outside the Blog Contest" is several of you.
Jon gets first prize. Jon, your answer reflects the creativity that such a contest needs.
"...You can move around, so make money that way. Just replace talking with playing soccer and you will still get rich quick."
Truly a brilliant answer.
But it would be nothing without Jeff's catch. Jon's original answer said that you should talk, but Jeff responded:
"Yeah, that's nice...except it says in the rules 'You can't talk.'"
The usefulness of Jeff's comment coupled with the sarcasm involves slips him into second, just above Tim. Tim was really the only one with a real answer to the actual problem I would like to point out that from now on your answer will simply have to be "how do you make the situation better?". Tim's creativity is reflected in his answer:
"First, open the closet door. You can do this by clipping yourself onto the bottom of the door, pulling it open, and then use your friend, the caramel mocha latte, as a doorstop. Go through the closet, and find Christmas lights, or something similar. Take the lights, and then go outside through a dog/cat door. Plug the lights into an outside outlet (if you don't have any, just run some extension cord inside), and use them to spell the words, "Aliens: Land here! Come as you are." (Alternately, you can use a lawnmower to mow the message into your lawn. That is, if you can figure out a way to drive the mower.) With any luck, in an hour or two, an alien spaceship will have landed, and extraterrestrials will have emerged from it. Explain your situation to them (they have translators, so they understand you.) If they are nice aliens, they will let you use their humanizing ray to turn yourself into a human. (A humanizing ray is a device that aliens use to turn themselves human. As humans, they can sneak around on earth undetected, and observe our ways.) If they aren't nice aliens, and won't let you use the humanizing ray, use your binder-clip clamping abilities and clamp onto the aliens' toes. Most aliens find this to be extremely painful, and they will soon let you use the humanizing ray if you agree to stop clamping their toes. Now for your friend: If they are not a nice friend, and you like caramel mocha lattes, just drink them up. However, if they are a good friend, use the humanizing ray on them also. Congratulations! You have have just turned your friend back into a human."
This answer is also good because with almost everything that exists, Tim provides an explanation. The humanizing ray especially. Otherwise it would have seemed too convenient, but Tim's explanation for it was part of what earned him third.
And the honorable mention goes to Jen. Jen's answer reflects the laziness we need to see more of:
"I don't really care. Stay as a binder clip for all the rest of the world cares."
**LINE BREAK**
I added that for the lazy people who don't read the whole post.
TOtB (think outside the blog) puzzle of the week:
You and your friend are walking along the grand canyon, blissfully unaware that the local "Pumpin Chunkin'" festival is in town. It involves launching pumpkins from catapults. A pumpkin smashes next to you, and you look over to your right. A huge barrage of pumpkins are heading your way. You and your friend start sprinting, but it is too late. A pumpkin to the head sends him careening off the edge. You slip on the remains of the orange vegetable, and look up to see an unusually large one about to hit you.
How do you escape?
Good luck.
Sheesh.
Anyway... I have this bug bite on my neck and it really itches.
Okay so the winner of the "Think Outside the Blog Contest" is several of you.
Jon gets first prize. Jon, your answer reflects the creativity that such a contest needs.
"...You can move around, so make money that way. Just replace talking with playing soccer and you will still get rich quick."
Truly a brilliant answer.
But it would be nothing without Jeff's catch. Jon's original answer said that you should talk, but Jeff responded:
"Yeah, that's nice...except it says in the rules 'You can't talk.'"
The usefulness of Jeff's comment coupled with the sarcasm involves slips him into second, just above Tim. Tim was really the only one with a real answer to the actual problem I would like to point out that from now on your answer will simply have to be "how do you make the situation better?". Tim's creativity is reflected in his answer:
"First, open the closet door. You can do this by clipping yourself onto the bottom of the door, pulling it open, and then use your friend, the caramel mocha latte, as a doorstop. Go through the closet, and find Christmas lights, or something similar. Take the lights, and then go outside through a dog/cat door. Plug the lights into an outside outlet (if you don't have any, just run some extension cord inside), and use them to spell the words, "Aliens: Land here! Come as you are." (Alternately, you can use a lawnmower to mow the message into your lawn. That is, if you can figure out a way to drive the mower.) With any luck, in an hour or two, an alien spaceship will have landed, and extraterrestrials will have emerged from it. Explain your situation to them (they have translators, so they understand you.) If they are nice aliens, they will let you use their humanizing ray to turn yourself into a human. (A humanizing ray is a device that aliens use to turn themselves human. As humans, they can sneak around on earth undetected, and observe our ways.) If they aren't nice aliens, and won't let you use the humanizing ray, use your binder-clip clamping abilities and clamp onto the aliens' toes. Most aliens find this to be extremely painful, and they will soon let you use the humanizing ray if you agree to stop clamping their toes. Now for your friend: If they are not a nice friend, and you like caramel mocha lattes, just drink them up. However, if they are a good friend, use the humanizing ray on them also. Congratulations! You have have just turned your friend back into a human."
This answer is also good because with almost everything that exists, Tim provides an explanation. The humanizing ray especially. Otherwise it would have seemed too convenient, but Tim's explanation for it was part of what earned him third.
And the honorable mention goes to Jen. Jen's answer reflects the laziness we need to see more of:
"I don't really care. Stay as a binder clip for all the rest of the world cares."
**LINE BREAK**
I added that for the lazy people who don't read the whole post.
TOtB (think outside the blog) puzzle of the week:
You and your friend are walking along the grand canyon, blissfully unaware that the local "Pumpin Chunkin'" festival is in town. It involves launching pumpkins from catapults. A pumpkin smashes next to you, and you look over to your right. A huge barrage of pumpkins are heading your way. You and your friend start sprinting, but it is too late. A pumpkin to the head sends him careening off the edge. You slip on the remains of the orange vegetable, and look up to see an unusually large one about to hit you.
How do you escape?
Good luck.
Friday, July 07, 2006
I have lost
I admit defeat; here is
Vanquisher, I have narrowed down the people you could be:
Jeff S.
Tim
It is, in all likelihood, Jeff S. For the vanquisher has never commented on his blog, and speaks like him.
This is the vanquisher's decription.
I would also like to mention that, inadvertently, Tim helped me with this.
The Vanquisher of Anonymous (VOA) was a clever fiend. Sam thought of him as a "he" but wasn't entirely sure. He was quite peaceful most of the time, which is why Tim referred to him as a "mockingbird". He could act as a policeman of some blogs; when someone came on constantly commenting under a pseudonym, he managed to identify them almost always correctly.
His face was the white type of blog comments, his name was the pen name he assumed.
He was clever, as his style of writing was unlike any other. He knew HTML and apparently about how people were trying to pin him down.
There. That's all you get.
Vanquisher, I have narrowed down the people you could be:
Jeff S.
Tim
It is, in all likelihood, Jeff S. For the vanquisher has never commented on his blog, and speaks like him.
This is the vanquisher's decription.
I would also like to mention that, inadvertently, Tim helped me with this.
The Vanquisher of Anonymous (VOA) was a clever fiend. Sam thought of him as a "he" but wasn't entirely sure. He was quite peaceful most of the time, which is why Tim referred to him as a "mockingbird". He could act as a policeman of some blogs; when someone came on constantly commenting under a pseudonym, he managed to identify them almost always correctly.
His face was the white type of blog comments, his name was the pen name he assumed.
He was clever, as his style of writing was unlike any other. He knew HTML and apparently about how people were trying to pin him down.
There. That's all you get.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Following Directions
Our vanquisher friend has trouble following directions.
Excerpt from my last post:
"But I need two things: your gender and your eye color.
The way I am prepared to accept these answers are odd, but the reasons will not be revealed.
You must email me at my hotmail account: nerdjedi@hotmail.com. I know it's Tim's thing. It's a long story.
Your email must be either from a Hotmail or a Yahoo account. I will accept nothing else.
Your email must be in the following format:
[gender], [eye color]
Nothing else is to be written.
Meanwhile I will continue posting descriptions after you until my wishes are fulfilled."
You MUST email it from a hotmail or yahoo account, it MUST be in that format.
Gender must be either male or female, eye color you must have only two.
If these demands are not met I will not write a description for you.
The reason I have Tim's thing is that a while ago, Tim did a post because he won LOTW. A girl name Claire told him that she wanted to get together with him and left him an email address. I sent her an email using hotmail pretending to be Tim, so I used his name (nerdjedi).
Oh and over at Tim's Blog a "mad quoter" war broke out. This was a quote by one of them that I thought was cool:
One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic.
---Josef Stalin
For those of you that don't know, Josef Stalin was a communist dictator of the former Soviet Union for some time and killed millions of people.
Pleasent, eh?
Excerpt from my last post:
"But I need two things: your gender and your eye color.
The way I am prepared to accept these answers are odd, but the reasons will not be revealed.
You must email me at my hotmail account: nerdjedi@hotmail.com. I know it's Tim's thing. It's a long story.
Your email must be either from a Hotmail or a Yahoo account. I will accept nothing else.
Your email must be in the following format:
[gender], [eye color]
Nothing else is to be written.
Meanwhile I will continue posting descriptions after you until my wishes are fulfilled."
You MUST email it from a hotmail or yahoo account, it MUST be in that format.
Gender must be either male or female, eye color you must have only two.
If these demands are not met I will not write a description for you.
The reason I have Tim's thing is that a while ago, Tim did a post because he won LOTW. A girl name Claire told him that she wanted to get together with him and left him an email address. I sent her an email using hotmail pretending to be Tim, so I used his name (nerdjedi).
Oh and over at Tim's Blog a "mad quoter" war broke out. This was a quote by one of them that I thought was cool:
One death is a tragedy. A million deaths is a statistic.
---Josef Stalin
For those of you that don't know, Josef Stalin was a communist dictator of the former Soviet Union for some time and killed millions of people.
Pleasent, eh?
Vanquisher
Dear Vanquisher of Anonymous-ness,
For reasons that confuse all of us, you have asked for a description. You have no name and no face. Writing a description for you would be a challenge I would readily accept.
But I need two things: your gender and your eye color.
The way I am prepared to accept these answers are odd, but the reasons will not be revealed.
You must email me at my hotmail account: nerdjedi@hotmail.com. I know it's Tim's thing. It's a long story.
Your email must be either from a Hotmail or a Yahoo account. I will accept nothing else.
Your email must be in the following format:
[gender], [eye color]
Nothing else is to be written.
Meanwhile I will continue posting descriptions after you until my wishes are fulfilled.
Thank you.
Okay so who is next? My good friend CARISSA! Here you are.
Carissa was one of those people who hated attention. She avoided the spotlight, hated being called "smart", and tried to be the smallest part in a skit.
Sam didn't really know how she managed to live.
Carissa was a genius. Her grades were exceptionally high, she was a grammar genius, and she was a level above the highest math. You wouldn't know by talking to her; she was just like everyone else.
Her hair was also a tribute to her personality; it was simply dark brown tied back in a tight ponytail. She called as little attention to it as she could. It matched her hazel eyes exceptionally well. They were not unusual, but Carissa was a sight to see when she was laughing. Her face crinkled up a tiny bit and her eyes glowed.
She was one of the tallest girls in the grade. She was also on the skinny side, so she seemed even taller, but managed to be nondescript about it. She didn't go bowling her way through people like some of the other tall people in our grade, and rarely referenced her height.
She was quiet, so the only way you could tell she could be hyper was by her occasional sugar rush. It was always funny when she was on a sugar rush.
I feel that one was a tad lacking.
Ah, well.
For reasons that confuse all of us, you have asked for a description. You have no name and no face. Writing a description for you would be a challenge I would readily accept.
But I need two things: your gender and your eye color.
The way I am prepared to accept these answers are odd, but the reasons will not be revealed.
You must email me at my hotmail account: nerdjedi@hotmail.com. I know it's Tim's thing. It's a long story.
Your email must be either from a Hotmail or a Yahoo account. I will accept nothing else.
Your email must be in the following format:
[gender], [eye color]
Nothing else is to be written.
Meanwhile I will continue posting descriptions after you until my wishes are fulfilled.
Thank you.
Okay so who is next? My good friend CARISSA! Here you are.
Carissa was one of those people who hated attention. She avoided the spotlight, hated being called "smart", and tried to be the smallest part in a skit.
Sam didn't really know how she managed to live.
Carissa was a genius. Her grades were exceptionally high, she was a grammar genius, and she was a level above the highest math. You wouldn't know by talking to her; she was just like everyone else.
Her hair was also a tribute to her personality; it was simply dark brown tied back in a tight ponytail. She called as little attention to it as she could. It matched her hazel eyes exceptionally well. They were not unusual, but Carissa was a sight to see when she was laughing. Her face crinkled up a tiny bit and her eyes glowed.
She was one of the tallest girls in the grade. She was also on the skinny side, so she seemed even taller, but managed to be nondescript about it. She didn't go bowling her way through people like some of the other tall people in our grade, and rarely referenced her height.
She was quiet, so the only way you could tell she could be hyper was by her occasional sugar rush. It was always funny when she was on a sugar rush.
I feel that one was a tad lacking.
Ah, well.
Run and Hide, Part 2
Tim's description. Then I'll do a post.
Oh and read Angie's Xanga. Her most recent post about a dream is hilarious. And my reaction is rather accurate. Luckily she doesn't have that moronic Xanga Lock, so anyone can read it.
Okay, Tim. Just close your eyes and you won't feel a thing...
Maturity is a curious thing. Some seemed to naturally possess it, some seemed to be completely unaware of what it is. Some thought that maturity was something that it wasn't, like knowing sexual terms or making fun of others.
Tim had his own version. If the whole concept of maturity was a planet, Tim was on the moon.
Tim was mature, almost by accident. Sam attributed his curious style of maturity to his family, his friends, and his faith.
Tim acted strangely to get attention, which could be called immature, but Sam didn't really care. Tim's strange method of complimenting others used to annoy Sam. But then he realized. Some compliments are transparent. Tim's were so perfectly opaque that no one would have any idea if they were fake.
Tim's hair was a marvel. It stuck straight up and never moved, as if it was a piece of plastic that was removable. It revealed a widow's peak as sharp as a tack. His eyes were a shade of emerald that matched the grass, the only color in his otherwise bland face, as if someone got extremely bored with a paint by numbers kit. His face could be divided it half from his widow's peak to the bottom of his chin and remain identical. It was a tribute to Tim's odd personality that even his face was curious.
Tim was tall and skinny. He didn't mind being called weak, in fact he enjoyed it. He often enjoyed making jokes involving him and Sam being beat up by little kids. His self-esteem was hard to judge. He was probably average, but didn't care what others thought of him.
Oh and read Angie's Xanga. Her most recent post about a dream is hilarious. And my reaction is rather accurate. Luckily she doesn't have that moronic Xanga Lock, so anyone can read it.
Okay, Tim. Just close your eyes and you won't feel a thing...
Maturity is a curious thing. Some seemed to naturally possess it, some seemed to be completely unaware of what it is. Some thought that maturity was something that it wasn't, like knowing sexual terms or making fun of others.
Tim had his own version. If the whole concept of maturity was a planet, Tim was on the moon.
Tim was mature, almost by accident. Sam attributed his curious style of maturity to his family, his friends, and his faith.
Tim acted strangely to get attention, which could be called immature, but Sam didn't really care. Tim's strange method of complimenting others used to annoy Sam. But then he realized. Some compliments are transparent. Tim's were so perfectly opaque that no one would have any idea if they were fake.
Tim's hair was a marvel. It stuck straight up and never moved, as if it was a piece of plastic that was removable. It revealed a widow's peak as sharp as a tack. His eyes were a shade of emerald that matched the grass, the only color in his otherwise bland face, as if someone got extremely bored with a paint by numbers kit. His face could be divided it half from his widow's peak to the bottom of his chin and remain identical. It was a tribute to Tim's odd personality that even his face was curious.
Tim was tall and skinny. He didn't mind being called weak, in fact he enjoyed it. He often enjoyed making jokes involving him and Sam being beat up by little kids. His self-esteem was hard to judge. He was probably average, but didn't care what others thought of him.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Time is an Illusion
Lunchtime doubly so.
Okay. I am officially canceling the whole stupid karaoke thing. Forget it.
Alright, now time for Ali's book whatever.
Ali seemed out of place among Sam's friends (I'm writing it third-person). She was mistakenly considered a drama queen by a small number of those who did not know her well enough, but people who knew her knew otherwise. It is implied by "drama queen" that the person exaggerates her drama. Ali was unique in this respect: she informed others of the drama in her life, but didn't exaggerate it. The drama was real.
Her hair was nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it was fairly common for a girl of her age. A simple brown cut off at her shoulders. Her eyes were darker than her hair, but not depressingly so. Ali's eyes had the unusual tendency to perfectly match her mood. When she was sad they seemed to darken, but when she was happier they seemed to light up. Centered between her eyes was the bridge of her nose. From this point to her chin her face seemed slightly elongated, as if someone had stretched it a tiny bit.
Ali's patience for life was like a balloon. If life was bugging her, she would let out air in the form of an angry blog post or an instant message rant. In this manner she had an infinite patience for crap life could give her, as long as it came in small doses. Sam knew of no time when she had, so to speak, "popped".
But he was sure he didn't want to be around when that happened.
Well that's that.
Ah I tire. Good night, my friends.
Oh the title is Douglas Adams.
Okay. I am officially canceling the whole stupid karaoke thing. Forget it.
Alright, now time for Ali's book whatever.
Ali seemed out of place among Sam's friends (I'm writing it third-person). She was mistakenly considered a drama queen by a small number of those who did not know her well enough, but people who knew her knew otherwise. It is implied by "drama queen" that the person exaggerates her drama. Ali was unique in this respect: she informed others of the drama in her life, but didn't exaggerate it. The drama was real.
Her hair was nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it was fairly common for a girl of her age. A simple brown cut off at her shoulders. Her eyes were darker than her hair, but not depressingly so. Ali's eyes had the unusual tendency to perfectly match her mood. When she was sad they seemed to darken, but when she was happier they seemed to light up. Centered between her eyes was the bridge of her nose. From this point to her chin her face seemed slightly elongated, as if someone had stretched it a tiny bit.
Ali's patience for life was like a balloon. If life was bugging her, she would let out air in the form of an angry blog post or an instant message rant. In this manner she had an infinite patience for crap life could give her, as long as it came in small doses. Sam knew of no time when she had, so to speak, "popped".
But he was sure he didn't want to be around when that happened.
Well that's that.
Ah I tire. Good night, my friends.
Oh the title is Douglas Adams.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Oh, that word
From 1776.
I deem it appropriate.
Well, it's storming out, so it's unlikely we're going to see fireworks. Bah.
But... here's the deal. I am making homemade karaoke for a limited time only. Primarily rock songs, they're the easiest. It will be really crappy, but still karaoke. Plus, it's free.
So comment away. And Jen: no, I can't make that song. Sorry.
I deem it appropriate.
Well, it's storming out, so it's unlikely we're going to see fireworks. Bah.
But... here's the deal. I am making homemade karaoke for a limited time only. Primarily rock songs, they're the easiest. It will be really crappy, but still karaoke. Plus, it's free.
So comment away. And Jen: no, I can't make that song. Sorry.
Today In History
1881: Billy the Kid was shot to death in New Mexico.
And I could have sworn something else happened...
Ah well.
So it's been 230 years, and let's see how we're doing.
Well, it looks like we're consuming 21,100,000 barrels of oil a day, which is more than 5 million more than all of Europe combined.
We consume 80% of North America's electricity, more than any other country including China and all of Europe.
Well, it's a good thing we have a moron in office.
That was fun, eh?
Okay so I'm doing "Book Description" of anyone who decides they want one. It's basically like how an author would describe you. I'm going to do a sample of myself, just so you can see what yours would be like.
Sam, quite simply, was short. He was shorter than almost anyone in our grade that you cared to name, and the shortest one in all musical groups. Somehow, though, he managed to compensate. For his size, he took unusually large steps, and he had a knack for getting people's attention. He had natural leadership skills, and often sought to be the leader of any group he could. It was unfortunate that he was so self-obsessed, as if he didn't have people's attention, he had a tendency to get jealous of those who did. He frequently was finding himself thinking ill of those who he thought were friends, and frequently had to correct himself. His hair was an unusual shade of red. Most "red" hair was actually more of a fiery orange, but Sam's was dull, almost the color of rusted iron. The oddly-colored hair sat atop a small, round face. Glasses perched quietly on an average nose; behind them lurked two hazel eyes which remained emotionless for most of the time. The area directly under these eyes was dark, but this was masked by the glasses, which seemed to cover them up with their transparent lenses. His nose was framed by a multitude of freckles, which seemed to stop abrubtly when they came to his mouth. He was extremely white and extremely weak, but this did not seem to bother him. He would frequently make jokes about his size and lack of strength.
Now I know that ended abrubtly, but in a book it wouldn't have. It would have been followed by "on this particular day..." etc.
I will only do one a day so sign-up quickly. First come, first serve.
Isn't it odd that we celebrate our nation's birth by blowing things up?
I leave you with that thought.
And I could have sworn something else happened...
Ah well.
So it's been 230 years, and let's see how we're doing.
Well, it looks like we're consuming 21,100,000 barrels of oil a day, which is more than 5 million more than all of Europe combined.
We consume 80% of North America's electricity, more than any other country including China and all of Europe.
Well, it's a good thing we have a moron in office.
That was fun, eh?
Okay so I'm doing "Book Description" of anyone who decides they want one. It's basically like how an author would describe you. I'm going to do a sample of myself, just so you can see what yours would be like.
Sam, quite simply, was short. He was shorter than almost anyone in our grade that you cared to name, and the shortest one in all musical groups. Somehow, though, he managed to compensate. For his size, he took unusually large steps, and he had a knack for getting people's attention. He had natural leadership skills, and often sought to be the leader of any group he could. It was unfortunate that he was so self-obsessed, as if he didn't have people's attention, he had a tendency to get jealous of those who did. He frequently was finding himself thinking ill of those who he thought were friends, and frequently had to correct himself. His hair was an unusual shade of red. Most "red" hair was actually more of a fiery orange, but Sam's was dull, almost the color of rusted iron. The oddly-colored hair sat atop a small, round face. Glasses perched quietly on an average nose; behind them lurked two hazel eyes which remained emotionless for most of the time. The area directly under these eyes was dark, but this was masked by the glasses, which seemed to cover them up with their transparent lenses. His nose was framed by a multitude of freckles, which seemed to stop abrubtly when they came to his mouth. He was extremely white and extremely weak, but this did not seem to bother him. He would frequently make jokes about his size and lack of strength.
Now I know that ended abrubtly, but in a book it wouldn't have. It would have been followed by "on this particular day..." etc.
I will only do one a day so sign-up quickly. First come, first serve.
Isn't it odd that we celebrate our nation's birth by blowing things up?
I leave you with that thought.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Too To Two
Yeah I'm too cool to eat two donuts.
Okay I'm done now.
So yeah. I like Jeff's "301" idea, but he made a mistake. Too bad, cause I was rooting for him.
Ah, well.
So three plus three is, what? Six? Eight?
Whatever.
So here is my challenge. I have a key for life. If you follow this motto, you will always be correct. By following a series of blogs, you will find it. Each blog you will find the clue to the next blog. The first one to comment my words of wisdom wins!
My clues will be extremely vague. I warn you. Here is my first one:
This blog is different from all others. No others are like it.
It used to be plagued by "jediraptor07".
Okay I'm done now.
So yeah. I like Jeff's "301" idea, but he made a mistake. Too bad, cause I was rooting for him.
Ah, well.
So three plus three is, what? Six? Eight?
Whatever.
So here is my challenge. I have a key for life. If you follow this motto, you will always be correct. By following a series of blogs, you will find it. Each blog you will find the clue to the next blog. The first one to comment my words of wisdom wins!
My clues will be extremely vague. I warn you. Here is my first one:
This blog is different from all others. No others are like it.
It used to be plagued by "jediraptor07".
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Smile for Ted Koppel, Officer Martin
And a merry Christmas to your family...
Right.
That's not a bad song, I suppose. Once again from "Rent".
Okay so I'm mad at Carissa. Not like really mad. But I just like saying that. I find when I say I'm mad people tend to take me very seriously.
Carissa was un-lazy enough email this people.
"yay jeffrey is gone. jeffrey, my sister remembers you and it is funny. frances, i can't see the font."
But is too lazy to do my contest.
And now it's time for a story.
Once upon a time there was a bright and charming young lad named Sam. Sam had brilliant visions for the future, one where all children used Google's email client, gmail. Sam invited many a folk to join him in using Gmail, and many of them joined. This went on happily for some time, everyone enjoying google's advantages. But one day an evil maniac named Sri emailed a bunch of people at the same time. This was not a terrible thing, as it's only one email. Then a less important character named Tim replied-to-all. This was not a big deal either, for he was just informing the public who spammed them. But then a young moron named Jeffrey replied-to-all with a pointless message, and the can of worms was opened. People began ranting about off-topic materials. Conversations were being held. People replied-to-all telling others not to reply to all. People replied-to-all telling others not to reply-to-all and then apologized for replying-to-all in the "P.S.". Sri tried to stop it, but it was too late.
There was a short blissful period in which no emails came out that were moronic like these, and the people's inboxes was graced with a mere one or two important emails.
But it seems as though Sri's email lit a fuse. A two-month long fuse. For a sixth of a year later, inboxes exploded. It exploded with trash which would quickly pick up 30 replies-to-all. For people were voicing their moronic ideas, replying to 30 people with such words as just "hola". They don't seem to realize just how much pain they caused their friends.
And 1 year later, the world ended. Sri found every email address ever created, and emailed it. Stupid people replied-to-all. Sides were formed, and an all-out war ended the world.
In conclusion...
STOP REPLYING TO ALL YOU STUPID #@$%'s!
Right.
That's not a bad song, I suppose. Once again from "Rent".
Okay so I'm mad at Carissa. Not like really mad. But I just like saying that. I find when I say I'm mad people tend to take me very seriously.
Carissa was un-lazy enough email this people.
"yay jeffrey is gone. jeffrey, my sister remembers you and it is funny. frances, i can't see the font."
But is too lazy to do my contest.
And now it's time for a story.
Once upon a time there was a bright and charming young lad named Sam. Sam had brilliant visions for the future, one where all children used Google's email client, gmail. Sam invited many a folk to join him in using Gmail, and many of them joined. This went on happily for some time, everyone enjoying google's advantages. But one day an evil maniac named Sri emailed a bunch of people at the same time. This was not a terrible thing, as it's only one email. Then a less important character named Tim replied-to-all. This was not a big deal either, for he was just informing the public who spammed them. But then a young moron named Jeffrey replied-to-all with a pointless message, and the can of worms was opened. People began ranting about off-topic materials. Conversations were being held. People replied-to-all telling others not to reply to all. People replied-to-all telling others not to reply-to-all and then apologized for replying-to-all in the "P.S.". Sri tried to stop it, but it was too late.
There was a short blissful period in which no emails came out that were moronic like these, and the people's inboxes was graced with a mere one or two important emails.
But it seems as though Sri's email lit a fuse. A two-month long fuse. For a sixth of a year later, inboxes exploded. It exploded with trash which would quickly pick up 30 replies-to-all. For people were voicing their moronic ideas, replying to 30 people with such words as just "hola". They don't seem to realize just how much pain they caused their friends.
And 1 year later, the world ended. Sri found every email address ever created, and emailed it. Stupid people replied-to-all. Sides were formed, and an all-out war ended the world.
In conclusion...
STOP REPLYING TO ALL YOU STUPID #@$%'s!
Saturday, July 01, 2006
My Bad
The winner of this week's "Think Outside the Blog" Contest is no one.
Your answers are all very similar and all very unrealistic. I must pick a more open- ended question that could have multiple answers. I blame none of you, as this is my fault. The new question is this:
You and your best friend were hanging around the house when suddenly, in a bizarre act of god, you are turned into a slightly larger than average binder clip, and your friend is turned into a caramel mocha latte. How do you turn yourself back into a human?
You can't talk, but you can move around. You can have anything you want in the house with you, but nothing that is unusual for our area (i.e. it can't be a random machine that turns office supplies and coffee into humans).
Good luck, and may the force be with you.
Your answers are all very similar and all very unrealistic. I must pick a more open- ended question that could have multiple answers. I blame none of you, as this is my fault. The new question is this:
You and your best friend were hanging around the house when suddenly, in a bizarre act of god, you are turned into a slightly larger than average binder clip, and your friend is turned into a caramel mocha latte. How do you turn yourself back into a human?
You can't talk, but you can move around. You can have anything you want in the house with you, but nothing that is unusual for our area (i.e. it can't be a random machine that turns office supplies and coffee into humans).
Good luck, and may the force be with you.
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