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.