Friday, July 31, 2009

½ (b·h) = ♥

With the recent tremendous influx of content to the local blogosphere, I feel moved to partake. Obviously I can't contribute in any real way due to severe bad luck that's kept me out of triangle territory for two months, but oh well. What else is new. Let's talk about feelings. And Posterity. And Oranges.

If the triangle is, well, the triangle, then I guess you could say I'm kind of like an orange. A triangle doesn't really need an orange, nor does an orange a triangle, but it's there, and oddly complementary, and uber appreciated. Ultimatley, both the triangle and the orange somehow benefit exponenetially from this mutual presence. I actually have no idea where else I was going with that, but I like the analogy. (Cuz, you know, it invovles fruit)

So anyway- sitting right next to the triangle, on my orangey perch, is me. The truth is, while not being an intimate member of this miniature, exclusive, legendary cult; I do care for it deeply, and know it better than most. I witnessed its birth, somehow stuck around long enough to still be here, and (perhaps most remarkably) actually understand what they're talking about a record-breaking 2/3 of the time. So here's to the triangle. Maybe the best has been, but may you always, well, triangulate.

TO OSK- Admiral Ackbar is cool, but lengthy, and frankly a little much for me to mouth without sounding like a total dweeb. The closest you'll probably get out of me regularly is AA, so that will just have to do. If you really insist on the full pronounciation, remind me and I'll do it on birthdays and special occassions. Besides, OSK is classic. Anyway, You really have a thing for geometric shapes, don't you? I mean, the triangle, the hexagon. While you had nothing to do with the writing of The Flapjack and Pokey Project, (nice corny western ring, no?) I sense the vinyl pentagram wreaks of your subconcious intellectual sabotage. PS- no, You're icky.

TO FLAPJACK- I really think you lucked out in this new generation of nicknames here. You see, flapjacks remind me of pancakes, and pancakes are flat and beige-colored and have nothing on them, kind of like your head. It really is magically appropriate. Plus, pancakes> penis (in this case, at least) so you can at least be thankful we don't make that joke too much anymore.

TO POKEY- It must be said, your phone etiquitte sucks. I don't take it personally, but you might wanna work on that. I hope you still have my litmus paper, and If you ever grow weary of computer science then I could use the lab help on my own little summer pet project. I think I still have a newspaper clipping of you somewhere if you'd like it. Most importantly- you've been single for almost a whole four months now, a personal record for you, how does it feel?

...So I was going for epic tribute but that degenerated pretty quickly. I would however, like to also flatter myself into thinking that one day an entire triangle-like protege group will emerge, along with maybe another fruity, female counterpart. (Though maybe not, this is the gender-equitable future after all.) It's nice to think that when they aren't also engaging in geometric bonding, they will hike amongst the ruins of the academic building, in search of our mysterious relics from days past, wondering about the subtleties of our very existence. They will find our yearbooks in the old reading room (hopefully condom free) and use them as maps from which to navigate a path throughout the ages. They will attempt to decipher our sporratic, coded, language, as they manage to simultaneously follow in our footsteps, while still carving out new and epic tales of their own making. On Alumni weekend, as we drunkenly stumble across our former haunts, they will glimpse us through the glass and wonder "could that possibly be one of them?"

I think we owe something to these hypothetical, future anothropologists. After all, they're practically us, and in reality, they always will be.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Sunday Drivers

Why? Because they're all a bunch of little old ladies going to church? No. The truth is, the expression "Sunday driver" actually hails from the youth of the nation, driving at 10 under the speed limit on a Sunday afternoon because (beleive it or not) they're still hungover from the night before.

I can now speak from personal experience. Ugh.

Friday, July 17, 2009

My Boys

Since this summer has arguably been one of the worst on record so far, I have found myself looking to sources outside of my own life for amusement more and more often. True, I've always loved a good sitcom about 20 or 30 somethings living together in a metropolitan area (you know, that really original plot you don't see much of) but this is developing into a minor obsession. Similar to the Sex and the City craze of the summer of 2006, I have now become a legitimate My Boys addict.

As veteran mango addicts know, I once spent a huge chunk of blogspace commenting and critiquing the finer points of Sex and the City, and I feel it only fair to give My Boys the same respect.

When I first saw adds for this show on TBS, I honestly thought it looked pathetic and overwhelmingly predictable (That tagline? Really?) but somehow over time it managed to peak my curiosity enough to coerce me into watching a few episodes, and even buy the first season on DVD so I could render a complete judgement. Soon enough, I was hooked.

The funny thing about My Boys is that its entire conception is based on the idea of an "Anti-Sex-and-the-City," yet I wouldn't be surprised if it appealed to the exact identical fan base. Sure, pricey shoes and snazzy city living have been replaced by baseball and beer, but the writing style is almost identical. (Though any fan of both shows will appreciate the entire episode devoted to blatantly parodying SATC, that was just brilliant.) The show is obviously made on a lower budget than HBO's almost movie-quality production, and so we must forgive the occassional, painfully obvious advertising plug, but otherwise I honestly think this show is really entertaining. No where else on TV have I heard the cast utter the phrases "douche" or "epic" as frequently as, well, I do. A lot of the jokes aren't laugh out loud funny, but they are the exact kinds of jokes you might make yourself poking fun at friends on a daily basis. (It was also really refreshing to hear a D&D reference far outside of the stereotypical gamer/nerd context- major cudos.)

Ultimatley, both shows aim at different kinds of realism. Sex and the City attempts to portray realistic personal relationships, while stretching the facts for hint of New York glamour and romance. My Boys on the other hand, wonderfully portrays day-today-living among friends, while fudging reality by giving the protagonist a suprisingly dominant role in all of the other character's lives.

While many praise the show's attempt to appease both genders, I honestly can't picture guys seriously digging this show (nor serious connisseurs of television, for that matter), but I am curious. So here's my proposition: just one evening of your time, I'll provide the junk food. Thoughts?

Monday, July 13, 2009


The explanation for the existance of Free Will in human beings (assuming of course that we do infact, have Free Will and that there does infact, exist some higher power who might dictate otherwise) is simply the same as that of genetic mutation. While the Powers Above have a few tried and true ideas about what makes for a peaceful, profitable existance on earth, they also acknowledge that there is still room for improvement- even by us peons. Peons, who apparently probabaly aren't so moronic afterall...Duh!

How did someone not think of this earlier!? (minus the whole Darwin + Religion= [BOOM!] problem) Seriously.