Mental Poop

Tuesday, December 31, 2002
It's almost New Years! Yay.

I had some pie. It was tasty. Chocolate cream is just God's gift to someone, let me tell you.

Which god, dunno. But it has to be one of them.


Monday, December 30, 2002
It was a party weekend. Much was done.

I finally went into Fry's. WOW, but that place is a giant Mecca. When the day comes where I have a garbagedumptruck full of money to spare, then guess where I'll be.

Well, ok, yeah, after hitting the clothing stores, but honestly, if I could be in two places at once, that's the other place.

So much to do, so little time. I have no idea if this works. So try it out.

Friday, December 27, 2002
Ok, quick summary:
Some of the party pictures require passwords because there are pictures therein which are, say, embarassing to those involved. While they want to see those pictures themselves, they'd rather not have pictures of themselves doing shots off of each other or dancing suggestively with their good friends of the same sex being bandied about the internet. No, I'm not talking about me right there. But, suffice to say, it's restricted information. Sorry.

As for who they are (random order) ...
Jennifer: I go to school with her.
Rachel: Her house is good for parties. 2 kids, a husband, and happy feet.
Will: Oftentimes partner in crime. Faboo dancer.
Noah: Likes the port. Rides a motorcycle.
Tara&Smeagol: ok, so his name is Chris. There are lots of Chrises. Anyway, they live together.
Ray: He worked for WebTV once. He dances very well as well.
Ricky: Runs Movie Night. Nice guy, works for Stanford. Biker dude.
Morgan: Very nice, used to got to my school. They fucked her over, though. Very sad.
Corrine: She has the Bondage Bedô. It's amazing.
Bates&Dawn: One of the darlingest married couples I've had the pleasure of knowing. Kickass dancers, too.

Does that help, Darnn?

Renn Faire gallery is up too. ROCK.

Thursday, December 26, 2002
Dickens Faire pictures are up. MAD PROPZ out to Ray for helping me out with the php gallery coding thing. Busy man Ray is, helpful too. Ricky was also very helpful, although we ended up not using the program I started with (this one).

So, yeah. I'm pleased. Looks like I'm going to be fiddling a bit for a while.

And our house has a new furnace that is HELLA working. I think it may even heat my room a bit now. BOO and YAH.

I was going to stop watching Dragnet, but then Dabney Coleman started talking with a prancy Southern lisp. Color me intrigued.

Tuesday, December 24, 2002


It's the holiday season (the holiday season)
and whoopdeedoo, and dickory-dock, and don't forget to hang up your sock, cuz he'll be coming down the chimney soon.

Or something like that. I honestly don't remember the damn song all that well. But the message stands, dammit.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Krazy Kwanzaa! Joy and peace be upon you and your loved ones, and even upon those you don't really like because really, everyone ought to be happy for just a little bit, otherwise they might even get suckier and that'd be bad.

For your enjoyment: Crazy Falling-Down Stairs Game (from

Monday, December 23, 2002
The commenting system wants me to kill it. This is the only possible explanation for its shoddy behavior.

Which reminds me - I'm back from Santa Fe. Joy of joys! It was cold, but I had fun (except for being woken up before scheduled). More on this when I am not hella tired and frustrated.

PHP sucks donkey butt. I'm serious. That shit's too complicated for its own good, and it doesn't work half the time. It's practically as bad as Java. Well, no. I lie.

Thursday, December 19, 2002
Oh, right - I'm going to Santa Fe til Sunday. Rockin' with the relatives.

Scary thing is, I mean that.

Seeya, kids.

Wednesday, December 18, 2002
Saw Star Trek: Nemesis today. I'd have to see it again to tell you whether it was any great opus or not; it had its moments, but then again, there are some largish plot holes. On the plus side, I got to eat noodles beforehand. Yay udon!

SEXY new WiGU wallpaper. There is also a smaller version here.


Monday, December 16, 2002
Ok, I tried several times to post yesterday, but for some reason Blogger would not have it. So I shall try again.

Dickens Faire was GREAT. OMIGOD. I got to eat, and dance, and fence, and schmooze, and dance some more, and flirt, and dance, and it was SO FUN. Pictures forthcoming.

"Submoronic fruitcake" - Major Winchester
(I just thought that was funny)

Today, got stuff done, to some extent. Yay!

Thursday, December 12, 2002
haHA! I was RIGHT!


Oh, right.

School's done, too.

Wednesday, December 11, 2002
How come it's "Santa Claus"? He's a man. "Santa" usually means a female saint.

So what, he's a woman? Or is it really a she, and she's mannish?

Dude, that'd make Santa a lesbian.

Tuesday, December 10, 2002

It was an ad for the Visa checkcard, and it started out with Charlie Sheen buying some of his works in a nice shop. They have to check id, all that. He hits on a chick (who doesn't respond), and flops around on a couch. Eventually, cashier guy says, "This doesn't look like you."

Cue Martin Sheen. "That's what I looked like when I came in here."

He hits on the same chick.

Sometimes, everything just comes together like that. I mean, DAMN.

I got the papers done this morning. You should've seen me, I was jittering all over the place.

I had to miss the Plough, though. That was sad. But hey, I had to get stuff done, and Mom got a crab for dinner, so all was good.

My dad sends out "send this on and Microsoft and AOL will give you money it is reall!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111" emails, mostly to "humor" my aunt.

This is one reason to not entirely respect him.

Yeah, I know, it's "This is one reason not to respect him entirely" so as not to split the infinitive.

Well, I gotta go. Toodleooski :)

I've gotten about 5 pages done of a 10-20 page paper. I'm leaving the text analysis and raw data stuff etc for a bit later - getting the meat done first.

I can hear the trash dudes outside. They're kinda bugging me, but that may be the caffeine. Besides, they're cool, they make it so I don't have to think about where garbage goes.

Which reminds me, um, kids? DON'T FUCKING PROCRASTINATE.

This public service message has been brought to you by the letters P and U, and the number 6.

It's not that I'm mad, just... Red Bulled?

Sunday, December 08, 2002

It's been very hard to concentrate on my papers. This is not good.

Saturday, December 07, 2002
Ray, you bad boy you.

I put up some hoodie pictures. One, two, and a mix.

Ok, that was tiring, I'm off to bed. I have lots to do in the morning, and I have even less inclination to do all of it now than before.

Friday, December 06, 2002
My sister is THE BEST.

She got me gloves. Fingerless black leather gloves. ROCK.

Only two more papers left to go.

Think Tank music - I went to school with them, and their music is THE BEST. No shit.

Thursday, December 05, 2002
This is messed up: Treasure Planet Interactive Yaoi Funtime!

Yet, I like it.

The books for the Rome trip came in today.

With them came Stupid White Men. I figure, I'm good, I deserve some fun.

Because, you know, I just don't get enough of it.

"They say that I won't last too long on Broadway.
I'll catch a Grayhound bus for home, they all say.
But they're dead wrong, I know they are,
Cuz I can play this here guitar,
And I won't quit til I'm a star
On Broadway."

George Benson ROCKS.

So does this rice I'm eating. TASTY. Mom made it; I think a box may have been involved.

And yes, the biography is done. Now all that remains is a butt-ass hard theory final-midterm-thingy, and a long-but-entertaining sex paper.

Wednesday, December 04, 2002
Ok, so.

I had a kick-ass lunch today. Greek food ROCKS. Seriously. A gyros wrap and some tzatziki and pita, and godDAMN but if'n' that ain't one of the tastiest things ever.

Jim, our cataloging professor, got a camera just like mine to take pictures of our artifacts. He wouldn't let me play with it, though, so I had to go through a tedious pile of tinytinytiny bones. Maureen got to play with the rocks, but Brooke did her best to focus on the bones. We have a few problem bones, but that's ok. I'm sure we'll think of something.

Tomorrow is going to SUCK ASS. Paper is due Friday. Yuckyuckyuck.

I'm going to get something to eat. Maybe later I'll put up a link to something. Dunno.

Tuesday, December 03, 2002
If the comments clicky thing is gone, wait a bit. It'll come back. YAACS sometimes has strange issues.


So, they were doing road work on our entire street today. I couldn't get home, and I'd left my disk with all my papers on it in my fucking disk drive. Of course, I found this out AFTER I drove back to school. I could've parked elsewhere, walked up, gotten the disk... it was too much work, so I did other things and napped.

Fucking road fuckers.

But I just had some KICK-ASS French toast. Holy mother o' pearl.

I should work on my papers. Fuck, my neck hurts.

I'm idly figuring out how I'm most likely to die, if I die soonish.

(And yes, Jennifer, you get my car. But only if it's clear you had NOTHING WHATSOEVER IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM to do with my death.)

I'm thinking, most likely spontaneous combustion, because quite frankly, I've got too much of a conscience to go any other way (outside of, like, an act of El God-o like a car wreck or something).

I'd like to give a big shout-out to Maureen and Brooke (who are the bestest archaeological cataloging pals a person could have, and who are quite possibly the coolest people, ever.

Yes, they told me to say this. Well, sorta.

Monday, December 02, 2002
Thanks, Mark Morford: Viking Kittens
It's a flash file. Beware! But it's clean.

I could look this up, but it'd be too much work, so: Who sings "Werewolves of London"? I can't explain it, but I heard it a little bit ago, and I was entranced. I think I may just be in love.

It'll pass, I'm sure.

Sunday, December 01, 2002
It's weird. I've been getting sleep lately, but my spelling has been going downhill. I don't get it. Isn't more sleep (or, at least, a less unhealthy dearth) conducive to concentrate and thus spelling?

Maybe there was a memo. I miss those.

The feast at Spider's was tasty enough. I suppose other people's culinary creations don't always measure up to the one's you've had your whole life, but still, tastytastytasty.

I want the gigolo's pad from Deuce Bigalow. It is one sweet housething, and it's on the beach. GodDAMN.

And no, I don't actually expect anyone to get it for me. Not that that wouldn't be nice, mind you.

So, yeah. Nothing big, although an ad just reminded me how very sick I am of seeing "cute" short little women in capri pants, 3/4 sleeves, and flip hairdos. GodDAMN, but they bug me. I have no idea why.