A plumber came in and fixed our sink, which had been clogged the past couple days. The following is a dialogue which occured right after he was done fixing it:

Plumber: “Do you want the bad news or the good news.”

Joel & I: Good news

Plumber: “Well, the good news is your sink’s fixed. The bad news is you have to do your dishes.”

Today, walking out of my Philosophy class at 11 in the morning, I was welcomed by a gray, cold, rainy day when all of a sudden a guy rides by me on a bike.

This wouldn’t have been so weird if they guy on the bicycle had been wearing a shirt. This misplaced gentleman was riding through the rain in 50 degree weather wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts and flip flops.

It’s not like Cal Poly is biking distance to the beach, so he wasn’t coming back from an early morning surf trip. The guy is just hard core. What the hell would make you do that? As far as I can tell, there’s only one possibility:

He’s a senior, scheduled to graduate this quarter, all he has to do is pass one last class and today he was scheduled to make an hour long presentation and he woke up late. Drowsily he sat in bed, warm and dreaming of happy days when all of a sudden his leg jerks him awake and he just knows it: “I’M LATE!!!” he screams in wide eyed terror, even before looking at the alarm clock, he then turns his head and confirms he needed to leave for class thirty minutes ago. Running before his feet even hit the ground and wearing only his lucky board shorts, which he sleeps in, he leaps from his bed and out of his room where his female roommate stops him at the door, “You can’t go outside like that, it’s fifty degrees out and you’re not even wearing a shirt!”

“Shirt? SHIRT!!! SHIRT!!!!???? I don’t have time for a GOD DAMN shirt!!!” he screams maniacally, barely maintaining consciousness as his blood pressure rockets to a level that would crush the HMS Conqueror, bursting through the door with only the briefest of stops to throw on his flip flops. He bites through the U-Lock of a bike that just happens to be right outside his door and off he goes into the gray, cold, rainy day.

Thursday, October 21st 2004 is a day that shall live forever in the hearts and minds of each and every occupant of the 4th apartment at 830 Boysen Ave; On this day, after exactly eighteen thousand, four hundred and sixty nine games, Joel LOST a game of foosball for the first time since joining into a rental agreement with his roommate, one Mr. “I Rule Joel Like A Small European Country” Wagner. This will more than likely result in a series of such victories in the near future. The floodgates are open, and Joel’s going to have to hide a lot further away then across the hall to escape the talent that flares upward from my body like flames from a phoenix.

The game in question was an impressive showing on my part. After absolutely, criminally embarrassing Joel for a good portion of the game, the score stood at nine to five, I needed only one point to end his very life. At this point Joel staged a heroic, but pointless, rally that ran the score all the way up to 13-12, when I finally put an end to his misery by establishing the necessary two point lead to declare a victory in my name.

Some will claim Joel was having an “off game,” that his “shoulder hurt,” or that he “went temporarily blind.” These people should be viewed exactly as they are: Fascist Nazis trying to crush one red-headed man’s unbounded joy at having so heartily beaten one of the most arrogant, puppy hating demons to have ever played the game.

Joel could not be reached for comment.

I should be at the gym right now. I got up early to go before class, I was sporting my gym shorts and my gym undershorts, my face set in a grim determination, ready to endure pain and sweatiness on the way to my ultimate goal of good health and hotness, when I stepped out of my apartment into a beautiful day only to discover that my bike’s rear tire is flatter than I care to think about. Without enough time to walk to the gym and back before class, I took my bike across the street to the bike store where I had a coupon to get a flat tire changed for $2. Normally I’d change the tire myself, but you can’t argue with two dollars. I couldn’t get anybody I know to change my tire for two dollars, trying to get somebody to get you a glass of water just because you’re lazy would cost you more than two bucks. Good stuff. There’s only one other thing I can think of I’ve paid only two greenbacks for that I really got my money’s worth out of.

If drugs aren’t the answer, maybe you’re asking the wrong question. If you’re saying to yourself, “Where are my keys,” then of course drugs aren’t the answer. However, if you’re asking, “What’s going to stop my nose from running?” then drugs, specifically Ny-Quil, are definitely the answer.

On my first day in my photography class, the professor brought out a slide machine to show us his work. The room that our class is held in is windowless, so as he turned off the lights we were enveloped in the kind of darkness I’d formerly supposed was reserved for death or processing film. Despite the fact that I couldn’t see my classmates, after watching slides for a while I became so engrossed in what I was seeing that I gradually lost awareness of my surroundings. It was at this point that the professor asked if any of us had used a medium format camera before.

And there I sat, hand raised in complete darkness.

Did you like Lord of the Rings? Do you hate Michael Moore? Do you just love a good satire? If any or all of these are the case, you might want to check out “Fellowship 9/11,” the first movie I’ve ever seen that referred to the hobbits as “an elite group of special forces.”

So, what’s it all about?

“Moore considers the reign of the son of Arathorn and where it has led us. He looks at how – and why – Aragorn and his inner circle avoided pursuing the Saruman connection to Helms Deep, despite the fact that 9 out of every 10 Orcs that attacked the castle were actually Uruk-hai who were spawned in and financed by Isengard.”

Please note that there is a direct correlation between how funny one finds Fellowship 9/11 and how much of a geek they actually are. You’ve been warned.

I just gave up on my sequential circuit design hw for the evening AGAIN. It’s five problems and I know they’re easy, but I just don’t remember what I need to remember from a class I took three years ago and it just kills me to stare at the paper and have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do with this thing.

What I really need is a tutor for this class, but it’s an upper division class so I can’t get one for free and finding a good paid tutor would be expensive and time consuming.

Maybe when I look at it tomorrow something will click….

For now though, I’m going to sleep that I might take my agression out on the treadmill in ze morning.

Goodnight Moon.

Thanks to ASI classifieds, I’ve added another electronic device to my already formidable stable. For $10, I became the proud owner of an HP ScanJet 3300c, complete with cables and even the driver cd. I’m finally able to share some of the prints I’ve made in my black and white photography class. You can click on either picture to view a larger version:

I took this at the beach in Santa Monica. We drove out to the beach 3 times to get this picture, but I’m satisfied with the results.

This was my final project for my first B&W photo class this past spring.

I’m listening to the second presidential debate on NPR and I have to say that Bush’s the most quotable out of the two of them. Kerry is so dry and on the money, while Bush’s little remarks are worth putting on a T-shirt. My favorite line thus far is the title of this entry.

I was reading on amazon about a book by Joshua Braff, whose brother you might know from Scrubs or Garden State, when I discovered the most convincing book review in all of history since the invention of the printing press:

“The latest book from Josh Braff is an excellent read and a “must-read” for any Jews growing up in the 70’s, as his description of the struggles with religion, culture, and parental pleasing are painfully raw and true. Josh Braff just might be the next Phillip Roth, in that Jew-from-Jersey-kind of way. ”
-Julie Weckstein (from here.)

The next time I meet any Jews growing up in the 70’s, I’m going to let them know Joshua Braff has a book they might be interested in.

“You’d be surprised at the rage that runs beneath these calm waters.”

“Well, i think i will always say that the democrat won because of obvious reasons, but they both did pretty well. It is always surprising and impressive to see a republican politician who is coherent.” [In reference to the Vice Presidential debate]

-Shana H.

Shana’s made of solid gold, I don’t know why I don’t talk to her more often.

“Talent is luck,
the important thing in life is courage.”
-Woody Allen

This line is from one of the opening scenes to Manhattan. I’m still watching it, I just paused the movie to write this down.

Q: How many members of the Bush administration does it take to change a light bulb?

A: None. There’s nothing wrong with that light bulb. It has served us honorably. When you say it’s burned out, you’re giving encouragement to the forces of darkness. Once we install a light bulb, we never, ever change it. Real men don’t need artificial light.

The preceeding joke was sent to me by one mister Ryan Kayrell. I can’t find any other source for it.

Any politically oriented commentary you’ve noticed recently has been spurred on almost exclusively by the writings of one mister Danner, whose blog I’ve come to know through one Rachel G. He seems like a cool guy, but I’ve never met somebody with such an easily flammible passion for the conservative point of view and well, it gets me riled up.

So Danner, you get the first ever conservative quote of the moment on watchred.com:

“Newsflash jimmy… iraq is nothing like vietnam–a war which we were winning, by the way, until pinko leftists (it would be an insult to communists everywhere to group you along with them) like yourself started whining about how horrible america was.”
-Danner (in reference to a quote made by former president Jimmy Carter)

Se?or Danner, tu tiene huevos grandes.

hella.

I was doing my hw, but now I’m posting in an attempt to make my homework feel cocky and unsolvable, so that I may spring on it while it’s off guard.

For those of you who don’t know, Lauren’s sister Katie is getting married in the Spring, so Lauren spent the day today shopping for bridesmaid dresses and even managed to take pictures of them to share with the world. Here is my favorite, though it’s by no means Katie’s choice (please excuse the poor photoshop job, the front of the dress was dark in the original.):

Me gusta.

On a side note, if you’re not too enamored with either of the mainstream presidential candidates, you can always vote Jon Stewart for President.

I’ve been much busier now that school has started, but I’ve managed to acquire a few choice quotes to share with you all.

“I know a lot of you are used to having your bottles of water, but in here we view water as a gateway substance that could lead to coffee or even, god forbid, coke.”
-Kurt Brown, Guy who runs the photo lab, on why we can’t have water in the labs.

“Even if every last one of you falls asleep, I’m going to keep right on talking.”
-Dr. Fern, on class policies

“I find that duck’s opinions of me are greatly influenced by whether or not I have bread.”
-Mitch Hedburg, on ducks

I walk into the room about thirty minutes early and the room’s already on the verge of packed. This class, “Computer Design and Assembly Language Programming,” filled up before most people had a chance to even register, it filled up with people taking priorities (a system by which you’re allowed to register before everyone else a total of three times during your undergraduate studies) alone. When the time came for class to start, there were about twenty more people than seats and people were getting antsy.

Finally, the professor walked in. He looked around at the varying levels of panic on each student’s face and muttered, “I really didn’t think anyone would be crashing this class.” He organized his papers on the podium, glanced back at the clock, acknowledged the time, and spoke:

“Hi, my name is Lyndon Nelson and this is Social Psychology.”

Some people laughed, three people fainted right on the spot, and everyone else began talking at once. Eventually it was communicated to Dr. Nelson that it was the belief of all assembled he was in the wrong room. Dr. Nelson walked to the door, found a sign that said his class had been moved, and addressed what had been for the last 30 seconds, his class: “Well, this must be a good class with so many people trying to crash. Have fun!”

Extreme anxiety set in and the questions began to pile up. Was our teacher in the wrong class as well? Who is this mysterious Dr. STAFF? Why don’t my socks match? How long would it take me to get to the beach from here if I just flat out ran?

About ten minutes after class was supposed to start, this guy, the department head for the EE department walked in. The atmosphere was one of utter shock, one student let out a low whistle and another was heard to whisper, “Damn…super teacher.” He stepped to the podium and addressed his class:

“This class has been cancelled as we have not been able to find a qualified instructor to teach it.”

So that’s why they sent the head, anyone else would have been lynched, cooked, and eaten. He then kicked everyone not currently enrolled in the class out, and explained, “We’ve opened up another section of this class that will be available with the following section numbers (proceeds to write section numbers on the board), you are advised to sign up for them as quickly as possible.”

Now, by the fact that he just kicked all the people not enrolled out of the room, it’s pretty clear to me that anyone who enters those section numbers into POWER is going to be able to get that particular class, so it’s basically a foot-race to see which 28 people can get to a computer the fastest.

And, well, I got the class.

On September 5th, my parents, Lauren, Kelsey, and Rachel all helped me move up into my new apartment. I promised my parents that as soon as I got everything completely settled I would post pictures of my new digs, so here it is, your own virtual tour of our new-old apartment.

And that’s about it. The picture of my bed didn’t come out right, and I’m too lazy to do it over again, so you don’t get to see it. However, if the demand is high enough, I might reconsider, so get your friends together and start writing letters.

Jon Stewart : What’s your overall sense of the mood down at the Republican convention floor. How did it feel to be there last night during the speech?

Stephen Colbert : Well John, as a journalist I have to maintain my objectivety, but I would say the feeling down here was one of a pervasive and palpable evil. A thick demonic stench that roles over you and clings like hot black tar, a nightmare from which you cannot awaken, a nameless fear that lives in the dark spaces beyond your peripheral vision and drives you toward inhuman cruelties and unspeakable perversions. The delegates bloated, pustulent bodies twisting from one obsene form to another, giant spider-shaped and ravenous wolf-headed creatures who feast upon the flesh of the innocent and suck the marrow from the bones of the poor.

Nothing says “saved” like a religous light switch cover.

Two couples standing in line at staples today ended up arguing over politics. Here’s a paraphrased version of that conversation:

Couple #1 walks up to counter with 30 packs of double A batteries.
Cashier: May I ask why you’re buying so many batteries?
Couple #1: We’re buying them for the troops in Iraq. It’s through this really cool program where troops post items they need/want, and then you go down to your local Democrat office (there is such a thing?) where they have a drop box for it.
Cashier: cool!

Couple #2 walks up to the counter
Man from Couple #2: I’ve got two words for you: Vote Republican. Democrats kill babies.

And it’s true. We do.

Every time a group of Democrats get together, it’s to discuss the killing of babies. We have snipers stationed outside of nurseries at all times, and the democratic convention is just a big baby killing get-together. It’s really what the party is based around. That and killing puppies.

Democrats hate puppies.