Mango Flavored Addiction

New Decade, New Blog

2010-02-07T09:39:00.000-08:00

Vlogging

2009-12-27T06:39:00.000-08:00

Every year, I tell my family that I'd really prefer not to go on the traditional family vacation down to the Virgin Islands, and every year I manage to somehow get guilted in dragging my sulking self up at 6am the day after Christmas to spend 4-10 days in the tropics. Of course, no one I have ever met actually understands my plight. It's always "Oh, how lucky you are to be going there!" or "Oh that's just wonderful!" and I have to smile and agree with them because if I say anything otherwise I'm clearly a spoiled brat. No, No it's not wonderful. There was a time when it was wonderful, of course, but those days are long gone. Now, family vacations just mean I have to spend several days in solitary confinement with my neurotic relatives in a cell phone deadzone with nothing to do except swim, sleep on the beach, and go out to dinner with them. One day we might go out on a boat or go into town, but honestly that's it- we lie on the beach and do nothing for several days. It is an epic waste. Normally at least one fight occurs, so with no other distractions I'm left brooding about it for at least double the normal time period. While most people would revel in the opportunity to do so many new and exciting things, 20 years of the exact same routine has left me so jaded that I honestly could care less. After two days, I'm already in a horrible mood, counting down the days till departure, and keeping up the mental mantra of "get me the fuck off this island" as if I were actually shipwrecked.

I don't care if I sound spoiled but I have yet to see how nice weather and a first class ticket compensate for this. Luckily I've had no problem drinking here since I was 15, but that's pretty much the only available coping method.

Infact, I've decided I prefer summer in New England to tropical vacations. After winter I feel like I've really earned the heat.

But...Why Mario!?

2009-12-17T07:23:00.000-08:00

So recently a friend of mine decided to time how long it took him to get 120 stars in Super Mario 64. Now my interest in video games has peaked significantly compared to around this time last year, but there is one thing I still don't get: Why Mario!?

I mean, if you're looking for really awesome graphic battle scenes this is obviously not the place to find it. The locations are creative and the stars and characters are cute, but that's pretty much it. And if you're looking for an exciting adventure, well, you're probably just going to end up rescuing Peach for the fiftieth time, or following some other random-ass plot like finding a baby that the stork dropped in the wrong spot, or scrubbing up graffiti. I mean really, who comes up with this stuff? How does it actually sell well? And to teenage boys?

And then there's Mario himself- for starters, he's cruel to animals. I mean had he not mistreated his poor little pet ape in the first place then half of the problems he has to deal with wouldn't have even developed. We're all supposed to empathize with him because he's a plumber and supposedly just your average joe, but when you and all of your friends live in castles that really just makes you a total poser. Not to mention you're clearly loaded or where else would you get the money to keep up your immense drug habit. C'mon, all those magic stars and rainbows? the mushroom kingdom? I'm no fool.

Finally, if you're going to risk your life (lives?) to rescue a chick that means one of two things: either a.) you're banging her, or b.) you wish you were banging her. So far Mario has rescued Pauline, Princess Peach, and Princess Daisy. This is my interpretation of events: Pauline was officially his girlfriend so she was clearly putting out and there's no shame in that. Soon afterwards, however, she dissapeared. She was probably sick of being number two to Mario's "just friend" Princess Peach, who has managed to get Mario to come save her pink little tush on a variety of occassions. And for what? A peck on the cheek and some cake? Totally pussywhipped. And then there's Princess Daisy. Ew, really dude? She's with your brother.

Now this* I would pay to see. But until then, I think an explanation is definitley in order.

Oh Peach, you ho...

*Wait... she's has to get the Vibe Sceptor? Uh.. double entendre much? And she fights with her feelings? Screw that. I mean jeez you might aswell at least create some sort of "PMS" wildcard while you're at it.

THE ENEMY:

2009-12-02T16:06:00.000-08:00

Recently Located: All over my appartment

Origins: I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA!

Directive: K.O.S.

Comments:

I kill at least two of these BBs a day in my bedroom, yet somehow, there always seems to be two more spinning around my bed. My Bed! Ew! They currently dominate the airspace above the kitchen sink, and the bathroom is the only remaining uninfiltrated base. I don't even want to think about what's happenned in my nasal cavity while I sleep at night. If I see another one I think I am going to lose my mind. Silly Europeans with no screens on their windows; this has to stop. From here on out, this means war.

PS- I think the AE is getting to me...

Fuck Buddies

2009-11-23T14:49:00.000-08:00

(Or "If I'm Ever Asked to Give a Speech Inwhich I Impart Deep, Life-Learned Wisdom upon Youth, This will Surely Be It")

Today I was talking with a friend of mine who was faced with a common decision: should she or should she not make plans to hook up with someone, despite the fact that she had been consistantly sleeping with someone else almost everyday for the past month. While the obvious answer is "yes, why not, you're just sleeping together," it provided me with the opportunity to do some serious thinking about the term "Fuck Buddies" and it lead to some pretty startling revelations.

I have always been an advocate of the great, clean cut simplicity that the term "fuck buddies" or any variation thereof seems to offer. While most people argue that just trying to keep things at that level will ultimatley fail- either resulting in a more meaningful relationship or one person desiring a more meaningful relationship and being sorely dissapointed, I disagree. Call me an idealist, but I honestly believe that it is possible in this world for two people to maintain a steady sexual relationship, and even maybe a simultaneously normal one too, without having things get too messy.

But why do things get messy? I think I've figured it out. You see, even though both parties will gladly acknowledge that they are each others' "fuck buddies" (or booty call, or FWP, or what ever they've decided to call it) and honestly admit to anyone else that they're using the other person to at least a small degree, they would hate to really think the same thing of themselves. It all depends on the way each person looks at it. While most people have no problem with "they're physically attracted to me but for some reason or another have no desire to be in a relationship" (the core basics of your average fuck buddy/FWP/BC situation) they may well have a problem with "When they're really feeling desperate and have run out of all hotter options, that's when they call me up!" or "They have a medical condition where they're just really horny all the time and have to take it out on someone!" (both of which may well be hidden or not-so-hidden details in such a relationship). In sum, It has very little to do with how much you like your fuck buddy, but very much to do with how much you think your fuck buddy likes you.

The key then, to maintaining an ideal and long lasting fuck-buddy relationship, is not nearly as simple as one might think. It requires either a.) a thorough, and at least semi-respectful understanding between two people that may actually not be so easy to find with just anyone, or b.) an intricate and careful manipulation- a balance of feeding the other person's ego just enough so that they'll enjoy sleeping with you and not feel like a tool, but not excessively so that they think you might actually want something more out of the relationship. In the latter sense, the ideal fuck-buddy relationship, therefore, might actually be a surprisingly challenging thing to maintain. Furthermore in the latter case, an ideal and lasting fuck-buddy relationship actually never lets its members see it for what it truly is in too much detail, even if they both well know the basics what's going on.

To conclude, while sex drive is obviously a key factor in perpetuating a fuck-buddy based relationship, ego and self-esteem can actually be just as important.

Hm. Fascinating.

My Dignity < A Spoon

2009-11-18T03:26:00.000-08:00

In writing this blog, I've made no secret of being occassionally discontent with my, uh, "subpar" personal life. I realize bitching about this kind of stuff gets old pretty fast, so I've tried to cut down as of late, but the following was too good to pass up:

Today for lunch, I stopped at a small convenience store for a sandwhich to take to the library.

Me: And a spoon please, for the dessert.
Counter Guy: Just one spoon?
Me: Uh... yes, just one.
Counter Guy: You're eating all alone?
Me: Uh, yes.

Really? At Noon? On a Wednesday? Is the concept really that horrendous?

Oh, and the "creamy milk specialty" turned out to be essentially yogurt. Hmph.

Pretty in #FFC0CB

2009-11-14T15:16:00.000-08:00

I'm not really sure how I feel about pink electronics.

Yes, I know pink is one of my favorite colors.

Yes, I know I should revel in the opportunity that so many things are now available in pink.

But to be honest, it kind of rubs me the wrong way. It's become almost expected in selection choice. What was once "black or white" is now "black, white, or pink." It's the all-too-predictable, looks-savvy, girly option. Where it once took a great feat of passionate and dedicated shopping to find that truly unique, special something in pink; it's now been reduced to the status quo. By purchasing an electronic device in pink, it's almost too clear how well I'm fitting into some (genius) marketing scheme for valley girls, sorrority sisters, and trophy wives. And whatever happenned to all the other dozens of colors in the world anyway? Now a purple computer, that would be something.

But I suppose I shouldn't spend too much time bitching about this. After all, that would render me a horrible hypocrite. Everyone, meet Pinky. She looks something like this:

Pinky is exactly half the size of Sabriel (my main laptop), roughly a third of the weight, and has about 16 times the battery life. (Sadly, I'm not exaggerating). Did I really need a netbook? Couldn't I have just quit my bitching and moaning about back pain, bought a new battery for my laptop, and made do? Maybe. But I'm convinced this thing will somehow exponentially increase my productivity. (Even if it just means I can log onto AE anywhere and get work done in 20-30 minute chunks between construction.) And besides, it's just so damn cute.

Interrobangin'

2009-11-11T14:42:00.000-08:00

I turned 20 the other day so I figure blogging about it is pretty necessary. How do I feel? Well, I was having a great day until someone reminded me that, in ten years, I'll be thirty. Actually, I don't feel that old. I'm in age limbo. By teenager standards- yes, I'm grown up and therefore essentially dead to the world. But by adult standards, I can't possibly be any younger. Ultimately, they both kind of cancel each other out, leaving me with the mere shock that my age now starts with a 2. That's the wierd bit.

I recently learned about a new kind of punctuation that Word calls an "Interrobang." It looks like this:

I think that pretty much sums up twenty, in a nutshell.

RFTSOB

2009-11-07T18:40:00.000-08:00

Recently, I've taken to re-reading old blog posts en masse when I want to waste time in the wee hours of the morning instead of sleep. First mine, then the blogbuddies. Having spent the past hour and a half wrapped up in happy blogosphere nostalgia of years past, here are my thoughts:

1. God this blog used to suck. As annoying as it is when people never post, I now fully understand your wise desire for quality control.

2. Note to self: avoid excess ditzy smiley faces in comments. Actually, work on commenting skills all together.

3. Once upon a time, I would tell people "oh yes, and these are the nerdy friends I hang out with. I only understand what they're talking about maybe a third of the time." Now, looking back based on what I know now, I'm pretty sure that number has tripled. It's official, I'm out of excuses. Oh well, the dork side is nice, plus they have cookies. (or at least that's what the t-shirt said)

Also- As you may know, I recently ran into a serious (yet serendipitous) snag in an attempt to dedicate the aching void in my life to WOW. When my credit card wouldn't work initially, an investigation yielded the following results: You see, a character cannot be transferred from the European server to the US server, making any efforts I put in whilst over here absoultely fruitless once I head back stateside. Furthermore, joining the European server means paying 14.99 Euros a month, not dollars. At the current exchange rate, plus the cost my credit card charges to convert, that's well over double what I would pay in the US. Initially I was able to get over my cheap-ass self enough to pay $14.99/mo for the joy that is being a Horde Tauren Shaman (I know, Tauren, surprising, right?) but this is simply too much.

So I need some serious help- and by that I mean another (preferably free) game to fill the void until I'm back in the US for an extended period of time. Come to think of it, with the multitude of mmorpgs out there, surely there exist several games just as awesome as warcraft, just without the brandname allure and hefty price tag, right? (BGII is still an option, but try finding a game store for US PCs in Francophone Switzerland. Internet shopping fails because I've probabaly already spent enough on international shipping from US websites to have the import facility in Zurich give me an entire file. Plus, this is also very expensive, which brings us back to the problem that started this questline to begin with- my cheap-ass self. And no, when you're in this deep to character development, Pokemon simply won't do. )

Suggestions? Guidance? Obi Wan?

OMGMSFT

2009-10-22T11:13:00.000-07:00

When it comes to hard work and academic pursuits under non-stressed conditions, my attention span is decent, but nothing wonderful. Maybe 2-3 hours tops before I need a lengthy, serious distraction. I'm always amazed, then, when I find myself able to be entertained by doing the most mundane online activity for hours and hours on end (literally, six or more) without growing weary of it. Things like playing online games or reading webcomics are, to me at least, just the perfect balance between "doing something and being entertained by it" (albeit, clicking a mouse) and "not really anything that taxing" to the point where they become outright addictive. I think this also comes from my natural way of being. I know I don't like change in the longterm, but that often applies in the shortterm too. When I'm on the beach, I want to stay dry for as long as possible until the overbearing heat forces me into the ocean. Once I'm wet, however, I never want to get out. It's the same with sleeping vs. being awake, and apparently, hardcore web surfing.

But enough about me. Today I found the best webcomic ever, and I simply must spread the word. There are 900 something strips and I'm only on 200, and I am not at all knowledgeable when it comes to old school video games and the (apparently shitty) life of a game programmer, but the rest is Golden. By following this link, starting at one (which is technically #67), and proceeding chronologically (Very Important!!!) you will quickly find:

*Cosmology/Philosophy
*Zombies
*My College (no, really)
*Pirates
*The nature of the world as we know it
*Dungeons and Dragons
*Large quantities of self-pity and pessimism
*Cathulu
*Pink Floyd and Pearljam
*Pie
*The Northeast
*Beards
*An old school Atari game about Journey. (There were actually two)

So yeah, pretty much a must read. Click on, faithful Mango Addicts, and give this Godsend of a WebComic the hits it deserves:

Minimalist Stick Figure Theatre

(And in case you were wondering, yes, it did come first)

Dammit....

2009-10-17T06:26:00.000-07:00

Nostalgia

2009-10-07T15:00:00.000-07:00

Last night was pretty crazy. Infact, I only got two hours of sleep, and I was so hyped up from it that I managed to keep the buzz going all day long. When I awoke, my room was a mess, clothes were strewn everywhere along with empty glasses, and I couldn't beleive just how much I had consumed in one evening....

...Snack foods, that is. I am of course referring to the epic all nighter I had to pull to finish my half of a 20 page lab report. Today, for the first time in years, I actually bought and chugged a Red Bull so I could get all of my work done within my overcrowded class schedule. Sound familiar?

Yup, it's vectors. It's matrices. It's spherical coordinates. It's everything you didn't quite learn in PreCalc the last time you were a junior. And it's back...

Y'all Ready For This?

Funny European Cars

2009-10-03T08:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, a very stereotypical Frenchman asked me if I was homesick, and I am. I'm also kind of sick in general. So I decided to make myself feel better by making a pretty list of things that I miss, and blogging about them in the alttext. Enjoy.

A guy outside of my window just yelled "Obama"...Meaning Obvious.

The Second Best Friend

2009-09-27T05:06:00.000-07:00

(So it seems that since everyone went abroad, everyone decided to get a blog. I'm cool with this, but I would just like to point out that I was here first. No, MFA will not turn into a post-card blog after years of faithful blogging about whatever the fuck I want... though maybe expect something on the subject soon. And now, back to the show.)

I have recently had a tremendous epiphany: I am the Second Best Friend.

No really, one day when I was in elementary school, my friend said that I was her best friend and asked me if I was hers. I well-meaningly said no, you're my second best friend, and I have been suffering the karmic retribution ever since.

In pretty much every friendship I've had since then, I was always unfailingly, undoubedtly, and exactly number two. I often enjoyed Best Friend status because number one lived far away or went to a different school or something, but the fact remains. Now I don't want to sound like I'm complaining- oh no, number two is a highly honorable position. In fact, the differences that seperate the Best Friend from the Second Best Friend are infintesimally subtle, the kind that only the Second Best Friend could ever possibly notice, but they're still there. Even today, I've noticed that for every close friend I have, there is always one other person with whom I assume they are closer. This never bothered me, it was simply the status quo.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure if I've ever really had a Best Friend. OK, obviously I've had many in the basic sense, and I've had different friend groups for different things. But I don't think I've ever found one person who managed to encompass all of my bizarre and disjointed interests in a particultarly exciting and intruiging way. In short, I don't think I've ever shared the really outstandingly baller kind of Bestfrendship I've witnessed in some of the pairs I've met recently.

So, I've decided I'm on a quest. I'm now currently accepting applications for a mutually exclusive Bestfriendship. Anyone interested can contact me via the "comments" link below.

The End of Productivity as We Know It

2009-09-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

One day, you will find yourself cramming a microwaved dinner down in the six minutes you have left before you resurrect. This is probabaly your 20th resurrection* today, seeing as you've been playing for roughly eight hours straight. You see a server shut down coming up and panic, but then realize this is serendipitous because you also need to shower, and might not have otherwise. This also reminds you that you're excited because The Guild updates soon. Oh, and next time you get a chance, you also need to check out Baldur's Gate II and see if it's actually as good as it's hyped up to be. Finally, As you coincidentally glance down at your xkcd t-shirt, a small part of your brain wonders "What happenned to my life?"

*Speaking of which, Season 4 came out in Switzerland this week. Thank you, random interview with Six in the daily paper. Apparently, she's Canadian!

Stephen Hawking- Live In Concert!

2009-09-15T11:41:00.000-07:00

So originally I was going to not blog for awhile, so that all of you readers could only dare to speculate as to what extreme ballerness I must be up to in Europe. This, however, was too good to wait.

Roughly 1-2 Weeks Ago- I recieve notification that Stephen Hawking will be coming to the University to speak for free in celebration of its 450th Birthday. I practically shit myself. I temporarily dream that this is a sign that I will actually intern at CERN and help make great prodigic strides in the field of physics afterall. Once this fantasy fades...Uh... actually I'll let you know once that happens.

Today, 4:30 PM- I arrive, t-2 hours before the lecture is set to begin. I take a place in line, just barely inside the building by about 10 feet.

Approximately 4:35 PM: The elderly woman behinds me asks if she can cut just a little so that she can "read the paper better."

Approximately 4:45 PM: I see the woman has joined with an elderly man several people ahead of me in line. I give her the glare of death.

Approximately 4:55 PM: What was once a line is now rapidly morphing into a crowded mob in the foyer. From this point forward, it's clearly every man for himself.

Approximately 5:00 PM: The crowd starts to move towards the auditorium, half an hour before the doors were meant to open. I stipulate that a group of dedicated physics students have actually put their skillls to the test, and pummeled down the doorway with a ramming device. I also wonder if anyone in the room has swine flu, and if terrorists have anything against Quantum Physics.

Approximately 5:10 PM: I am one of the last 200 or so people admitted (legally) to the small auditorium, and get a decent seat near the middle/back of the room.

Approximately 5:25 PM: My friend arrives late, and pursuades the woman to let her pass through the barricade now surrounding the building. She somehow manages to approach the auditorium, where guards are fending off physics fanatics who still insist on entering despite the presence of tazors.

Approximately 5:30 PM: The aforementioned friend somehow leaps over a barricade with another group of fanatics, and enters the auditorium.

Approximately 6:30 PM- Introductory speakers. Blahblahblah.

Approximately 6:35 PM: He speaks. I am glad that I too speak English, and don't need to settle for the translation (which was apparently mediocre due to his synthesizer being a little hard to hear). I cannot help but reflect on the old brains vs. physical prowess stereotype, especially with the most extreme case fathomable actually sitting on stage before me. I am also wowed by whatever genius (likely himself) developed the computer program he uses to communicate, which senses his desires by mere ocular motion. [in old-school, computer-synthesized voice]: I. will. be thin.king. like this. for at. least. the. next. thir.ty minutes.

Approximately 7:35 PM: The (rather funny) talk is over, and there is no QandA. I am secretly relieved, however, because I forgot what my exact qualm was with his defintion of entropy as related to the development of galaxies in his book. Had I missed the opportunity to discuss it with him purely because of my own lack of prepardness, I would have had to cry myself to sleep for the next month... at least.

Approximately 7:45 PM: I steal a poster. It looks like this:

Approximately 7:50 PM: I and my entourage exit the building. We witness Mr. Hawking Himself being wheeled towards his transport a mere few meters away. I would like to think that we had the class and reserve to photograph him from where we were, instead just of running up to his face like someone else actually did, but this was probably just the result of me not being the one with the camera.

Did I learn anything that I hadn't already read or heard in class? Not really, though I didn't know that he'd been to the South Pole (in his current condition) or that his "voice" was used in a Pink Floyd song. Also, if you tried to heat a frozen pizza using only CBR microwaves it would only heat it to just above zero Kelvin, and Feynmen used play the bongos at a strip club. My current qualm: His third son, Tim, was born 3 years after his ALS was so advanced that he could not feed himself or get out of bed. Foul play, or is he actually just that baller?

Twenty, Twenty, Twenty Four Hours To Go...

2009-08-19T20:33:00.000-07:00

It's been an odd summer.

Honestly, I feel like I've spent what little free time I had hanging out with two or three actual close friends, and about ten other people who I barely know, but somehow just keep popping up enough to get in on the "friend" list by default anyway. I think that happenns a lot as we get older. Overall- it's been a good summer for endings. Graduations, demolitions, this mode of life as we know it. I suppose that makes it an even better time to head out for a bit.

No Worries, I'll be back. You will too. It'll be awesome. And I'll definitley still be blogging.

PS- I think Cartman is gay. Actually, I think he is the metaphorical preteen version of Stewie...after some traumatically stupifying head injury.

PPS- I know what Soylent Green is.

PPPS- for those of you who think I tend to wax sentimental a little too much- my dad just came into my room and started gushing over a photo album of my kiddie pictures. Ugh.

Free Wireless, Man

2009-08-12T23:05:00.000-07:00

In this day and age, I honestly believe it is a crime to charge people extra for wireless internet. It disgusts me that Starbucks, after you've already paid them $4.50 for a drink, insists on charging for internet when so many other enlightened places just give it out for free. These are modern times we live in. It should be complementary- like a shitty continental breakfast, or a hot towl.

What disgusts me even more, however, is when people set up wireless networks at home but then refuse to let anyone else use them. There is nothing more frustrating than being in the range of six or seven wireless networks, only to be dissallowed into every one of them. And to second that, I think it is downright un-neighborly. If I can go to my neighbor's house anytime to borrow a cup of sugar, why not internet? Infact, using their wireless internet is even less of a hassle to them than that. I don't need to go knock at their door, and they definitley don't need to pay for more internet next time they're out shopping to make up for it. Honestly, sharing internet is like sharing air, and does absolutley no harm to anyone involved. One day, when I pay my own bills, I think I am going to purposefully make my internet connection open and available to all. If I need to have some kind of password for the company's sake. then I'll probably name my network something like "The password is password" and act accordingly. The Sixties may have tackled Free Love, but this is clearly our own cultural battle to be fought.

I actually wrote this a week ago but couldn't post it. Guess Why.

½ (b·h) = ♥

2009-07-31T13:58:00.000-07:00

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.

Sunday Drivers

2009-07-22T07:48:00.000-07:00

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.

My Boys

2009-07-17T17:24:00.000-07:00

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?

Epiphany

2009-07-13T12:55:00.000-07:00

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.

Well, I Had to Do Something...

2009-06-19T12:40:00.000-07:00

Last year when we celebrated MFA's second birthday, I attempted (key word: attempted) to cook an extensive dinner based on Mango ingredients, which ultimatley failed because I didn't realize that a.) bread making flour does not contain yeast and b.) all mangos must ripen for several days before they can amount to anything worth eating. Oops. This year I don't have nearly as much time on my hands, but I would like to do something. Watching Ace of Cakes a few weeks ago, I got inspired. So, at some point this summer, I'm going to bake a cake. A pretty one. (It'll probabaly also be pretty small, cuz I'm pretty sure I'm down to like, two barely-regular readers. Oops.) Oh well, Happy Birthday MFA, for whatever it's worth. Our Little Bloggy is getting ot be a big Blog now...

Something to ponder in the meantime: the expression "pretty" as an emphatic statement (eg- pretty sure, pretty well). How did that happenn?

Juicy Goes To The Big City

2009-06-17T15:12:00.000-07:00

I have always thought it would be fabulous if public napping facilities existed. That is, places where people could just go to nap whenever they needed, without judgement from more active onlookers. Say you have some awkward period of time to kill and don't want to go all the way back to your house, or have spent an entire afternoon walking around shopping, and now the post-mall sleepies are catching up to you with a vengance? It really is a fabulous idea...

...A fabulous idea that certainly occured to whoever designed New York City's Central Park. For starters, Central Park a miracle within itself- thoroughly convincing any passer through that they are in the middle of country New England instead of a smelly, noisy metropolis (No really, it actually smells different). But here's the kicker: be it by will of man or nature, Central Park is filled with large, smooth, flat rocks interspersed with grassy patches. These landscapes simply beg any onlooker to come lie on them for ten minutes as they soak up the sun. And the best bit? It's an entirely socially acceptable practice. Seriously, there were four other people doing it in my little sector alone. It was awesome. (Though there was one guy you could smell from like 3 feet away, yuck)

My other thoughts on the Big Apple: intimidating, in a way I've never noticed before. Window shopping down 5th Avenue I found myself almost afraid to actually walk into the stores, only to be glared at by people assuming that I was a poor, country girl who obviously had no intention of buying anything. And there was another level to it- I honestly did not feel like I was good enough to walk into some of those stores wearing converse sneakers (not high-heels) and jeans from Filenes. Wierd.

2 Days and Counting....You Know Why. Get Excited.

Proof

2009-06-13T18:03:00.000-07:00

You Can't Say I Didn't Warn You...

The Last Remaining Starfish

2009-05-28T11:27:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, before the new facebook layout, the other new facebook layout, and even before bumper stickers, there was a fabulous little application called "My Aquarium." In My Aquarium, the user collected coins each day to buy different kinds of fish for their own tank, or to send fish to their friends along with little messages. It was simple, fun, never nagged you about adding more friends, and provided a great, creative way to semi-privately communicate. (That is- once you'd figured out how to say everything you wanted to say in 100 characters or less, along with an appropriately picked marine species).

But today I got a notification saying that the whole app, in order to "focus on something more exciting" would be entirely revamping itself...into SpeedDate. One- what on earth does the My Aquarium demographic (those of us who already have friends to send fish too) have in common with the SpeedDate demographic (losers that probably lack said fish-loving friends, and who just really need to get laid)? Which brings me to two- How on earth do they think this is going to be successful? And three- Whatever happenned to facebook being an uber secure way to keep in touch with people you already knew instead of the next eHarmony?

But then of course there's four (which in some small ways brings us back to one)- Really, Fates? Really? This has officially become the last time I ever blatantly challenge the Universe ever again...

Going To The Mattresses

2009-05-13T14:05:00.000-07:00

The other day, I moved back home from college with the help of my parents. As everyone knows, this is a truly grueling experience. It's not so much the heavy boxes to be lifted, or the ocassionally balmy weather, oh no. As we all know, the true strain is psychological. Whenever a family congregates in the face of a task, any power battle that has ever existed between members immidiatley becomes encarnate in the best possible way to pry the remaining adhesive off of the walls, or which exact vessel is best for the packing of clothes vs. shoes. In my case, this means that several minutes can easily be spent figuring out which boxes should be put in which car, for reasons that essentially boil down to "this might be easier now," "this might be easier later," and "can we just do it this way and not waste time discussing it already?" Oh, and then there's also your parents being in increased contact with your personal shit, which is never a good thing, and an excellent reason to stay up until 6am the night before packing away anything that might cause the ever dreaded "Juicy, why do you have these?"

...But the trial is over, and I am now free to veg to my hearts desire for the next few weeks. "You've Got Mail" is on Bravo, and I think I might have overlooked the complexity of what first appears to be just a typical late-80s-mid-90s-New-York-City-based chick flick (Truly, their glory days, starting back When Harry Met Sally). It reminds me of the glory days of AIM too. (Well that, and the fact that I actually am confined to Dial-Up internet until friday. *Shudder*) Remember in middle school when the person you had a crush on got online, and your heart jumped a little when you saw their screen name in bold, followed by the cheesy "door opening" sound byte? (double cudos if you got their screen name from a friend instead of awkwardly asking them directly.) Ever think of all the crazy things people reveal online that they would never actually say in person? Ever slightly grateful for the natural pauses in conversation that somehow just aren't awkward like they would be on the phone? I downloaded Skype last week. I still have AIM but I barely ever use it, and facebook chat (shitty² as it is) has taken over by pure conveniance. Common sense would tell us that video chat will fade IM out, along with snail mail and cassette tapes, but I don't think that's true. Just look at the texting phenomennon- it's cheaper than ever to call anyone and actually talk, but tons of people would still just rather text 75% of the time. Skype was just developped within the past year or two, but there's still a simple Instant Messaging option for those who prefer it. (Or for those like me, whose internet at both addresses magically crapped out on her in the same week.)

Oh, and another thing I've always wondered about- the Dial Up sound effects (music to our ears oh so many years ago): just for show or actually necessary and meaningful?

A Prime Example of My Own Stupidity... PENIS!

2009-04-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

This book opens with an anecdote about a man courting a lovely woman who (upon seeing his over-endowed penis) screams, runs away stark naked, breaks her neck, and dies. He then ends up in the hospital, having hit his member several times with a hammer in frustration at his cursed existance. Here, he meets the priest who helped him write this book. The priest also suffers from "OMG" (Oversized Male Genitallia) and offers advice and ways to deal with the problems it entails, like the possibility of veins expolding during intercourse, dizzyness during erections (because of all the blood required to maintain one) , whether or not to get reductive surgery, and other entirely legitimate-sounding medical dilemmas. There were even personal anecdotes from other sufferers, and a self-diagnosis quiz.

After spending the afternoon in a deep state of confusion (surely over 8 firm inches is not all that abnormal?), it then took me 20 minutes of Wiki and google to confirm that it was, in fact, a joke.

Apparently, Borders didn't get it either...

Ennui

2009-04-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

Stalking Youu...Stalking Mee...

2009-04-12T17:45:00.000-07:00

OK, who has Google reader? I want to know. Obviously that question is slightly rhetorical (that is, if something can be just slightly rhetorical) because if you do have google reader then

1. You can't comment without bothering to type in the URL, scroll down, and click on the "comments" link, which obviously you won't do because

2. You are lazy.

And here's another thought: "Study of Women" vs "Study of Gender." My conclusion: neither is relevant in the most important grammatical context of "Make me a sandwich, bitch."

Yes, I might just hand that in.

Did You Know They Make A Hot Pink, Leopard-Print Vibrator?

2009-04-06T23:11:00.001-07:00

From to newspaper clippings, to personal experience, to 5am games of drunk and dirty Truth-Or-Dare Jenga, here are five facts about sex that might just change your life. (Well, six if you count the title, but that probably only applies to me.) Maybe these don't apply to you or even to anyone you know; but hey, if I've learned one thing, everyone's different.

Fact: Women are more easily aroused than men.

Details: While physical arousal is not always the same as emotional arousal, this ability probably evolved over time as a defense mechanism against painful sexual experiences. (In other words, a man can only have sex if he's aroused, but a woman can be raped if she's in the mood or not, and the latter is incredibly painful.) As for emotional/more voluntary arousal, I think I can still safley flush the "guys are hornier than girls" myth down the toilet.

Fact: Straight girls like... girls?!

Details: Apparently, heterosexual women are far more easily visually stimulated by other women than men. What also matters is the holistic sensuality of the image displayed, not necessarily the gender. Here's the full article: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/12/fashion/12bisex.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1

Fact: Guys don't get off everytime either.

Details: While difficulty in achieving orgasm is far more common in women, it's not unusual for guys to not get off during intercourse every now and then aswell. Perhaps tits and ass aren't all that's needed after all?

Fact: Some girls can orgasm hands-free.

Details: Yet another fabulous reason to work on those keggle exercises....or maybe take up competitive swimming?

Fact: Porn just doesn't do it for some guys.

Details: Here's the story as I understood it: An acquaintance of mine started getting the occassional wet dream once he hit puberty, but when he still hadn't finished himself off and sent the fishies flying by the time he reached 16 he was convinced something was up. He went to see a doctor to get checked out. The professional diagnosis? "You just haven't met the right girl yet."

(Don't worry, he eventually did.)

Oh My Google

2009-03-24T17:58:00.000-07:00

OK, I surrender. No protests, no radical resistance, no guerilla forces. Google has taken over and I accept that. Better yet, I have decided to swear my loyal allegiance to Google here and now, so as to avoid any problems when this becomes mandatory in the far future. Google, I am faithfully yours, there is no need to threaten my family or place dead animals in my bed.

They were clever alright, letting us think that we had control at first. We thought they were helping us with all their useful search engines, then conversion tools, then driving directions, then email, then statistics counters. Soon I suppose there will even be Google fast food restaurants. (Just think: GoogleFood. "Hey, honey I'm hungery, can you google me a burger?") But now we know the truth: They're on top, and resistance is futile.

The proof that Google now posses more power than any other entity on earth? Google Street View. Not only does Google know where you sleep, but it knows where you sleep in 360 degrees. We already have GoogleNews; It's now only a matter of time before "GoogleParty" sprouts up, followed by "GoogleLife."

So remember, if you happen to be doing something that Google might not like and you see one of these:

Run. Just Run.

(and maybe check to see if I'm driving, cuz that looks like a pretty sweet job.)

Oh, Canada!

2009-03-19T19:24:00.000-07:00

Every spring, multitudes of American college students head north to escape the brutal, oppressive liquor laws of their country. They go towards hope, they go towards dreams, they go... to Canada.

The general consensus? Excellent. Going on vacation to Canada is exactly like going on vacation to Europe, except you only drive several hours instead of flying, and the exchange rate is actually in your favor. Really, cultural novelties, cobblestone streets, quaint pubs, and (in our case) awkward language barriers included. Poutine anyone? I might just never bother crossing the Atlantic again.

NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-03-04T12:25:00.000-08:00

There are some things you do in life not because they're good, but because you just can't not do them. Things like rubbernecking on the highway, gawking at plane crashes, and seeing this movie:

http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/archives/2009/02/le.php

(obviously it will suck, but the hilarity of that artilcle entirely compensates)

PS- I've actually been wanting to blog about this for awile, but I liked the way the number of blog posts lined up with the month...

BloggerSex

2009-02-05T22:25:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, there was a lonely lady blogger. She frequently lamented her conservative family's perpetual insistance that she marry, compounded with the fact that she would probabaly become an old cat lady anyways, given her totally respectable, nerdddy tendencies.
But then one day, the perfect man for her found her blog by pure happenstance. He commented a lot, was blogged about, was met, and later... was married. Yes, married. It was truly the stuff that chick flicks are made of. I now can't help but muse that one day my blog too will become popular enough to attract random readers who will eventually fall in love with me. I think the conversation could go something like this:

CuteAnonymousGuyBlogger: Juicy, having read your blog for ages I can honestly say that you are an amazing, funny, quirky, intelligent, mesmerizing, girl and I would love to go out with you sometime. Since I have read your blog for a long time now, I feel that I know you intimatley and have already accepted all the things about you that you normally try to hide from prospective others by blogging rule #2. (Not that you have anything to hide, of course, being the coolest, most marvellous person ever.) I'm not a creeper, about the same age, live within a conveniant distance of you, share many of your interests, and also happen to be excellent in bed.

Now is that really so much to ask?

In other news, I have actually figured out why the number of guys interested in me at a given time is often comparable to the number of electrons in a hydrogen cation. Observe:

SexyMysteriousWoman: Hello, I'm sophisticated, intelligent, witty, well dressed, and have a complex personality that intrigues and attracts men. Guys seek to "figure me out" and then win me over in an impressive way. Men are are so attracted to me that they are willing to overcome the limits of convenience in my pursuit. I'm also flirtatious, but never too forward, as I have mastered the art of subtlety and non-verbal communication. I can be touchy-feely, but I never need to appear too interested, as my pursuers generally do all the work, and the slightest rejection only leaves them hungering for more.

Juicy: Hi, I like to make dumb jokes (sometimes at my expense), don't take many things seriously, and dress kind of like Rainbow Brite. I think acting differently to impress people is ultimatley a waste of time, and would much rather just be as honest with people as I can. I think the world would be a better place if everyone just tried their best to explain themselves, and subtlety is not my forte. When it comes to guys, I am either "friendly" or "extra-friendly." The latter is my best attempt at "flirty" since I was scarred at a very young age and thus, can never really act like that. I don't like playing games and, if given the opportunity, probably won't play hard to get because I don't see why I should risk discouraging someone I actually like.

Does it bug me that success in the social sphere ultimatley breaks down to basic psychology and tactics? Yes. Am I going to put this newfound knowledge to my advantage? Doubtful. Until then, at least my blog won't become overpopulated with posts gushing about my magical meant-to-be significant other on a regular basis. Really, just cuz you think he's awesome doesn't mean it makes for awesome blogging the tenth time around.

Why Yes, This Is Totally Blogworthy

2009-02-02T19:40:00.000-08:00

Ever since I found myself in the presence of streetlamps on a daily basis, I discovered that I actually have a strange sort of influence over them. I am dead serious. Often, when I walk by an illuminated street lamp, it goes out just as I pass under it. This hasn't only happenned to me a few times, but with a freakish regularity on an atleast biweekly basis for the past five years. Once even, the same light turned off for me 3 times, on seperate occassions, on the same night. The very next night, another one also decided to spurn me.

I had recently started to intepret this as proof that I am, infact, some incarnation of the Devil. This is an entirely legitimate claim, seeing as whenever I reflect on the impressions I've made on other people's lives, it probably involves looser morales and a heightened affinity for substance abuse. I'm proud to say I've really inspired some of the most conservative people...But perhaps this is not the case?

Today, for the first time EVER, as I walked under a streetlamp at night, it turned on. I was shocked, then elated. What could this mean? Was this just a fluke, or had I been reassigned a more uplifting, less evil cosmic destiny afterall? Perhaps it was a sign of optimism during these stressful times? I was unsure. But then the unthinkable happenned. The next time I passed under that light that evening, I looked up to see it was in a very dim state, and half willed half dared it to turn on. To my shock- it did. This was clearly a sign. Compounded with my more recent aptitude for finding pennies (I generally get about one or two a week), perhaps things are looking up after all?

Oh Kaitzer...

2009-01-23T00:52:00.000-08:00

A realization I felt the need to share with the world:

Some relationships are like Santa Clause: Back in the day they were the best thing ever. They were totally worth getting excited for, and the fact that you two had found each other in this chatoic and random existance that is life seemed either incredibly lucky or gloriously predetermined by some higher power, as everything just seemed to fall into place so perfectly. But then one day, something snares. When I was young, I once noticed a very specific kind of chocolate that my Mother ordered from a catalogue at school. A month or so later when that same chocolate appeared in my Easter Basket, my suspicions were aroused. One not so significant car ride soon after, I finally confronted the issue. "It's true," my mother confessed, "There's no Easter Bunny." "And Santa's the same?" I asked, "Yes" she said. Some Relationships are similar: over time, things just don't add up the way they used to. Eventually, you start to see flaws that you didn't even realize you were choosing to overlook in a haze of hopeful and happy romance. And then one day, you finally let yourself see the person for who they really are and not what you wanted them to be. You swiftly dump them accordingly, and that's the end of that.

Years later, you might find yourself in a bit of a relationship slump, feeling cynical and generally out of the Holiday Spirit alltogether. All the usual evidence shows that they've clearly been missing you and want to get back together (it's almost cruel really- how indifferent you've been compared to them) and all of your common sense tells you it could work. A quick Facebook stalk reveals they're better looking than ever (believe it or not, I might just have found a male under 28 who can pull off facial hair) and you start to wonder if maybe you were a little quick to judge them after all... but something still holds you back. Just like Christmas will never be the same without believing in the magic of Santa Claus, this relationship will never go back to being as good as it was before you dropped the roses and the rose colored glasses. The desire to return to such a happier state is understandable, but to attempt to actually do so is just foolish. (You did consider shelving all that and just using them for sex- but that would be cruel in their current state and make for one hella awkward reunion. Plus, that would require admitting to yourself just how desperate you really are- *shudder*.)

So it's pretty much a shit situation all round: You're stuck deciding between a relationship with someone who clearly cares about you a lot but whom you're not sure if you even like, or another who-knows-how-long of [insert tumbleweed here]. (Oh, and if you pick the former but change your mind, you just fucked them over twice.) You know the truth and what the right thing to do is, but like so many grown-ups, a tiny pathetic part of you can't help but wonder if maybe you're the Scrooge, and there really is such a thing as a Christmas miracle afterall.

Luckily, however, there are some realtionships you can always depend on. Whether you want to cuddle up with sweet textbook words or be fucked hard and dirty on an exam, there is one thing that will always be there for both. Oh yeah baby, guess who's back....

Oooh!

The Airing of Grievances

2008-12-26T19:05:00.001-08:00

So I may have lucked out when it came to holy tires...but that was pretty much it. Let's look at all the ways this vacation has thus far epically failed:

1. Times I intended to visit my friends over break: 4-5. Times I actually will only if my luck improves: 1-2. Fucking snow.

2. Number of times I had to go to the tire place to sort out their fucktard tire job: 4. Hours spent going back and forth in the car on Christmas Eve because of this: 5+.

4. The Most Awful Tire-Changing Experience Ever: After waiting for over an hour to get my snow tires on, I'm hyped to go when I see that they forgot to give me my old tires back (retards), and my tire light is on. While I'm in the car waiting for them to fix the light issue, one of the mechanics starts hitting me up for my digits while his friends are (supposedly) fixing my tire pressure. After I blatantly but kindly crush any hopes he had of getting it on with me, I just want to get out of that place as soon as possible, but I then realize that I came into the garage at an obnoxious angle, and allow one of the other guys to back my car out for me. Great, now they all think I'm a bitchy prude, and a tool who can't even drive her own fucking car out of a tight spot.

I then had to return to the tire place twice after this.

5. This Year's Christmas Darwin Awards are some of the most worthy in ages. They include: a neon yellow J-Crew knit sweater, and a 2.5 foot-long wall sculpture (in aluminum) of Serotonin. (I may be a chemsexual and all, but that's just taking it too far). Expect a poll soon so as to determine which exactly is more hideous.

6. Things I remembered to bring home for vacation: The condo keys. Things I forgot: my passport.

7. Number of different responses I got, all from supposedly reliable sources, in regards to if/how I would still be able to travel: 3.

8. All I needed in the end: My driver's license. What I managed to lose between boarding the plane and landing: My driver's license. Fuck.

Let's hope this was enough for one "break"...

The Great Miracle of the Christmas Snow Tires

2008-12-22T19:19:00.000-08:00

Christmas is supposed to be about miracles. I'm not sure how much I actually adhere to that whole "immaculate conception" story (uh huh...yeah...right. Good one Mary, no really, totally clever!), but I'm still a spiritual person, so from now on I've decided to dedicate one post each Christmas to celebrating a great miracle that has occured that year. This year, we will celebrate the Great Miracle of the Christmas Snow Tires:

So long story short, I was foolish enough to have allowed myself to both live in New England and own a car that doesn't have Four Wheel drive. This hadn't been a problem until yesterday, when a freakish blizzard hit and the 'rents made it pretty clear that I wasn't driving until Mother Nature was done PMSing. My freedom jeapordized, I quickly entered mild panic (and uber bitch) mode. Once things cleared up a bit the next day (thank God), I immidiatley got about getting a set of snow tires to at least fend of the worst of it, and gleam what little liberty I could.

A set of snow tires, that is, that were out of stock throughout the entire state. Unless I bought them personally off the internet, the dealer said, I would have to wait who knows how long to get Baby pimped for the season. This was clearly unacceptable. After contacting a local franchise of the dealer's supplier chain itself, I also had no luck. According to the computer, they said, the tires were out of stock everywhere in the state and might not even be availabe for over a month.

I don't know why I decided to google the franchise again after it had clearly jusy failed me on a whole civil level, but I did. I randomly picked another nearby town's franchise from a list of about ten, and called up. Yup, guess who had the tires. Two in stock, two to be ordered... and in by tomorrow. I also saved $100.

So have a juicy Christmas, and remember what we've learned here today: Either there is a Jesus and he loves you and wants you to be happy, or that computers downright suck.

PS: Randall Munroe, I love you, but really now what the FUCK do you have against Chemists?

Bad Life Decisions

2008-12-19T03:34:00.000-08:00

Based on the title of this post and the time of year, you might think I'm referring to just throwing my last exam (which I only need a 65 on to still get a B+ in the class) and deciding to go get my drankity on with my friends who were free and doing so about 12 hours ago. Sadly, no. I am talking about the life decision that was made by whoever determined the last, oh, THIRD of my Logic 100 curriculum.

I can honestly assure you that attending lecture, attending section, and reading the book, will make absolutley no difference regarding how well you master the subject of Logic. Why? Because once you get past a certain amount of "oh, that's cool, learnable, and relevant" they pretty much run out of things to teach you. Due to this, they spend the last third of the semester talking about weird infinite numbers and playing dumb mindgames. I assure you that the last third of this class is instructive in no way, shape, or form, nor is it useful in anysense of the world. (The first bit? Sure, but they really should have just quit while they were ahead.)

The final exam does not really review anything you've been taught, it is simply a test to see how far you can stretch the limits of your imagination based on ABSOLUTLEY ARBITRARY rules, a diet consisting mainly of ESPRESSO, SUGARY CRACK BROWNIES, and BREAKFAST FOODS, about 5 HOURS OF SLEEP to last you TWO WHOLE DAYS, AND AFTER DEVOTING THE PAST 12 HOURS STRAIGHT TODAY ALONE TO THIS USELESS, IRRELEVANT, STUPID, ADVANCED PLACEMENT IQ TEST THAT SHOULDN'T EVEN GRADE YOU ON MATHEMATICAL ACCURACY BECAUSE SO LONG AS YOU ACTUALLY FINISH IT YOU'VE ALREADY MADE INFINITE LENGTHS YOUR BITCH ABOUT TEN TIMES OVER!!!!!!!

Aside from that, for someone who's been awake for almost 30 hours straight I'm feeling awfully normal and chipper...Care for some tea?

Collegiate Cooking

2008-12-12T22:02:00.000-08:00

The Goal: Bailey's Pudding

Tools at Hand: a 2oz shot glass, a graduated Nalgene, cheap silverware, the tray that came with your refrigerator, and the set of heart-shaped mixing bowls you just had to have.

Go.

Useless

2008-12-06T21:37:00.000-08:00

bi⋅month⋅ly [bahy-muhnth-lee]
–adjective

1.
occurring every two months.
2.
occurring twice a month

Irkings Continued: Probability

2008-12-01T18:52:00.000-08:00

In the study of cosmology, where actual data is scarce and one has to rely strongly on mathematical theory and probability, I find myself getting incteasingly frustrated by the approach so many people take with probability. This is actually a problem I've had with the subject ever since I first encountered it in my junior year math class. (ironically, this was the best I ever did on any type of math in that class by far- so hopefully this is not simply the product of my own stupidity)

So here's my super secret beleif: Probability is bullshit.

Really, it is. I can never say so in class because I will immidiatley be bombarded by people demanding an explanation, which I would then have to give orally and therefore deeply fail. But here's how it works:

If there are five marbles in a bag, each a different color, then the probabality of getting one marble of one color blindly is 20 percent. if you repeat this process, the more you do it the more the actual results will come to resemble what probablity dictates. So yes, probability can explain what has happenned in the past or over a large series of attempts, but it can tell us absolutley nothing about what will happen, and essentially breaks down when it comes to anything really important.

In life, very important decisions are rarely remade enough times to reveal their statistical nature. If you have 1 bullet, 100 or so square inches of skin it could hit on someone, and zero skillz, probability tells you that you will eventually hit the target you want at least once for every 100 or so times you fire. But you don't have 100 shots- you have one. As that bullet sails through the air, the chances are 1/100 that it will hit the target you want. Here's the common mistake: most people assume that since it is so unlikely, it won't happen. But what if it did? It still could, infact, hit the spot right on target. And once it does, where is your precious probability now? Since you only had one bullet and one try, it's completley irrelevant. If there was a different universe for each possible outcome, we could have been living in the one where it hits all along and not have even known it.

Now we can expand this thinking to greater things, namely probablity itself. Back to the marbles- there is a small chance that no matter how many times you grab into the bag blindly, you will pick out the same marble. But what if you did keep trying again and again, and kept on getting the same marble. It could absolutley happen. We might simply be unknowingly living in that specific universe of possibility, and in that indefinite phase before the next marble is taken out of the bag, no one is any wiser.

And here's another issue I have with statistics even if we ignore the latter- Birth Control. They say the pill is 99.9% effective, but what does that really mean? Does that mean that for every 1000 women who use the pill in their lifetime, only one will still get pregnant? Or does it mean that for every day a woman takes the pill, there is a 1/1000 chance that this is the day it won't work? Or, even worse, does it mean that for every 1000 individual times she has intercourse while using the pill, one of every thousand is unprotected? They're all very different actual numbers. Ponder it.

"Marriage is Soul-Killing Bondage"

2008-11-21T21:35:00.000-08:00

The reason for my hermitage on this freezing Friday evening is a big reasearch paper due tuesday. Luckily, however, I am writing it on undoubtedly THE most BADASS woman of the century (19th or 20th, take your pick): Emma Goldman. And get this:

Familiar looking?

Wait, There's English on the MCAT?

2008-11-18T13:48:00.000-08:00

It has not so recently come to my attention that I blog a shit ton more than everyone else here, but I never quite figured out why. I am aware that about 1/3 of my posts are/have been crappy emotional drivel, but even if you factor out that the ratio of my blogging to any one else on our little island* still stands strong. is it that, despite having a comparable lifestyle to anyone else here and just as little free time, I just think up more things that are blogworthy? Or is my definition of blogworthy just incredibly low?

Answers. Please.

*I say island because almost everyone who reads this blog has their own blog that is linked to it, as well as to the other readers' blogs, but to very few other places. The result of this is a small, intertwined network of blogs that I tend to imagine like a scarcely populated Island in the middle of the great ocean of the Blogosphere. I've actually spent some time clicking the ambigous "next blog" button on the top bar in hopes of finding yet another little colony similar to ours, but to no avail. (If i did have some sucess, it was either in a foreign language, or chronicaling the incredibly uninteresting lives of some group of devout religious families. Obviously not nearly as cool as us.)

Take That, Bitchy English Teacher

2008-11-11T18:19:00.000-08:00

My old highschool advisor was interviewing an alum's kid for admission the other day. The alum remarked that the school nolonger had Sunday Chapel, and before my advisor chimed in to tell the story, he said...

"Yeah, I heard some kid wrote an essay and pursuaded the headmaster"

I am an urban legend. My life = complete.

On The Bright Side, I Now Own The Most Pimpin' Bathrobe Ever

2008-11-10T11:45:00.000-08:00

It must be said-19 is a pretty insignificant birthday. Right before it there's the epic 18- legal adulthood in most cases, plus cigarettes, porn, and lotto tickets. Right after it there's twenty- no longer a teenager by any definition, and an age that starts with a two, signalling a whole two decades of existance. But what is 19 good for? Well, it's a prime number, and you can drink in some parts of Canada. Now everyone loves Canada, but is anyone really bothered about it? no.

It's Not Over Until You've Peed In The Woods

2008-11-01T12:10:00.000-07:00

Ladies and gentlemen, let me show you just how committed I am to this country:

October 31st, 2008 (3 Buisness days until Election Day)

4:15 pm- Juicy finishes up researching and finalizes her ballot.

4:25 pm- Juicy arrives at the campus post office, finding it closed and lacking stamps.

4:30 pm- The time the campus post office was supposed to remain open till (grunt)

4:35- Juicy, deeply fearing her ballot might not reach the homestate in time for election day, thus further enabling a victory of the evil Sarah Palin (that's pronounced PAY-lin by the way. No, really, if she can tell me whether or not I can keep my own baby I can tell her how to pronounce her own last name) starts walking downtown.

4:40 pm- Juicy catches a bus taking her to the central post office in her town. (hopefully open later)

4:45-past 5pm - Time spent by local post office employee chatting it up with a customer after he had processed her package in under a fifth of that time. Not to be a bitch and break up the earlybird lovefest over there, but seriously...at least get a room that's not federally owned.

4:50 Time juicy, thanks to another more efficient post office worker, gets to the counter and purchases stamps.

4:52 pm- Juicy votes (for the first time, ever!), just making the last wave of outgoing mail.

Fucking Women's College. Correction: Not Fucking Anyone Because of Women's College.

2008-10-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

NB: The women's college I go to is in close proximity to another (incredibly inferior) one. Let's call my school VW (Vagina World) and that school WIWVW (Wishes It Was Vagina World).

Juicy: "Wait, I thought it was WIWVW to bed and VW to wed?"

Friend: "Oh No, it's VW to bed WIWVW to wed."

Juicy: "Really?" [This has since been confirmed by the internet]

Friend: "Oh yeah, we're the FUN ones. Do you see the Harvard Squash team going to WIWVW to get body parts signed there? No."

Juicy: "Good point..."

A Little History:

Apparently, the expression has its origins back in the 50s as a saying used by Harvard boys to tell us apart: that VW girls were more likely to go skinny dipping and match you shot for shot while WIWVW girls wore collared shirts, played tennis, and were the kind of girls you could take home to mom. Having reflected on the origins of this stereotype for about, oh, half a minute, I am now totally OK with this....(Still working on the whole 'Militant Lesbian' thing though)

Indeed, Efforts must be doubled.

Irkings

2008-10-18T17:48:00.000-07:00

1. Steampunk. Really now, it's uber specific and kind of ridiculous...And no, you can't go around adding "punk" to anything just because you want to feel badass. It just doesn't work like that.

2. xkcd. Obviously an awesome comic drafted by God himself, but seems to be going a little downhill latley. Then again, I suppose there is only a limited number of truly hillarious science/technology comics one can craft. (Maybe I should send him some good chem ones? It is one thing he hasn't done a lot of...)

3. Shia LaBeouf's barely-there, landing strip of a moustache. Like facial hair is going to make us forget that you are and will always be that lovable little boy from Even Stevens on the Disney Channel. Ironically enough, this so obvious attempt at machismo actually gives us a far more realistic look at Middle School. Really, how old are we now?

4. Autumn. People flock from all over to see our pretty autumn leaves change colors. What they don't realize, however, is that they are actually flocking to observe a slow, mass death. Really, autumn is the one season inwhich you are surrounded by death. Not winter, as one might think, because in Winter everything is already dead. All is snowy, and white, and surreal like the afterlife. But autumn is just the pure act and essence of dying with no before and no after. Ponder it.

5. You. Yes, I really mean you (yourself specifically). For almost two weeks you allowed this poor little blog to sit and wallow in cinematic, Bridget-Jones-esque self-pity, when in actuality sitemeter was broken. Thought it be funny did you? Only funny when someone gets hurt? Well shame on you! Worthless Mango Addict you are, but it won't get to me. At least now I see how it really is...

Hello Seattle, I'm Listening...

2008-10-13T23:32:00.000-07:00

To contine with the theme of the former post, here's a several minute clip that essentially sums up the state of my personal life (and apparently, this blog) at the moment. Enjoy.

Confession

2008-10-09T17:47:00.000-07:00

Ok, Mango Addicts (what few are left, at least), I have a confession to make....I've been spying on you. Ever since a few months ago, I got a nifty little tool called "sitemeter." Not to creep you out or anything, just because I was curious. So please don't be too alarmed when I tell you that I know every hit this site gets, the IP address it comes from, the town/state/province it comes from, what linked them here in the first place, and how long they stayed. Really, it's not so big a deal and in no way deteriorates upon your personal safety. Since we are a small blog, we really cherish every little hit this site gets. Even the random ones from bizzare countries because someone was googling "mango flavored marajuana" or "mango morning after" or some other similarly silly combination of words. (not that that's bad, remember what your preK teacher taught you? There is no such thing as a stupid google search)

So why let this little indiscretion slip now? Well, for the past few months this site has had a steady influx of daily, or at least every-couple-days-ly hits. infact, the number (much to our delight here at MFA) seemed to be rising. That is, until this week. Observe:

For the first time since ever, this blog has been just sitting alone in cyberspace for an entire week. OK, Where did everyone go? Was there some seven-day long party in Blogosphere that I wasn't invited to? Was the makeover really that abhorring? I don't care what you say, I'm sorry but there is no way you're simply that cool or that busy.

Hopefully this is but an irregular, circumstantial glitch in the way the world should be. (That, or everyone is just counting on atom feeders to check this blog for them...bums). But I fear it may not be. Indeed, this may be (*grimace*) the beginning of the (*shudder*) end of blog culture; and dare I say, our entire little section of the Blogosphere.

We don't know what the future holds at this point, but let me just say this one thing: Regardless, we had a damn good run.

It Could Be Worse, You Could live in NJ...

2008-10-02T15:55:00.000-07:00

So here it is...the long awaited and much needed make-over. (Because this blog truly was 'just about as yellow as it gets'). Thank the people at blogger for finally developing a template tool for those of us who lack both the skill and patience to perfect their hex codes. Enjoy.

It's Happenning....December 2008.

Can I Get That In Pink?

2008-09-18T15:36:00.000-07:00

So I was procrastinating my homework (as usual) and came across an AOL article (slideshow, really. Go watered-down American media!) of unusual and award winning homes. It was then when I saw this baby:

This is Jayne Mansfield's "Pink Palace" and the official inspiration for my future residence. You can now see why I felt an immidiate, intimate, dare I say Nexusy connection with the building:

It was truly, as Jayne described it, "a heart-shaped house with a heart-shaped pool." To decorate the house, Jayne wrote to over a thousand individual furniture dealers asking for free samples, and offering in return the right to brag that their wares were in her "outlandish mansion." (Something I so would do, and Nexusy connection #2) I was just wondering how much I would have to make a year in some obnoxious oh-so-not-for-puiblic-interest lawfirm to attempt to buy this baby when learned (to the sound of my heart breaking, and a slight sigh of relief for my future serving the public good) that it was demolished....on my 13th birthday (Nexusy connection #3). And if all this does not go to show that I am clearly the reincarnation of Mrs. Jayne Mansfield herself, here is a picture of her:

(Nexusy connections 4 and 5) Perhaps anatomy and personal taste are somehow obscurly linked?

Oh, and Juicy fact: Her daughter plays Olivia Benson on Law&Order (Nexusy connection#6)

Glimpsing The Future

2008-09-15T12:52:00.000-07:00

Today on the weekly pilgrimage to Target, I was in the checkout line and noticed the woman ahead of me. She was buying around 30 (yes, I counted, 30) composition/ spiral notebooks, three large packets of Bic pens, and cat food for her six (yes, she said so, six) cats.

Nothing else.

That's pride.

Popeye = Lies

2008-09-11T15:34:00.000-07:00

Everyday, people live their lives by a series of assumptions and "facts" that society has engrained into them over the years. "Eight hours of sleep is better for you than four," for example, and the ever famous "There are some things in life that you just need to do, whether you like it or not."

But the following is a potent reminder that just about any of these facts can be completely wrong. Never hesitate to question the authority, you might just be right after all.

Everyday, parents force spinach down the throats of disugusted, unhappy children at mealtime. When the children complain, the parent says "But honey, you need to eat spinach because it's good for you. You need all that iron to grow into a healthy grown-up!" and continues to force the vile substance down the child's throat. This leaves the child feeling violated, and the parent feeling guilty, but knowing that they are doing what is right for their child.

Or are they? Children, the time has come to rise against your elders. They are incorrect, and you need suffer no longer. Next time you are forced to swallow mouthful after mouthful of abhorrent green abomination, retalliate with the truth. Retaliate with this:

"Actually, the kind of Iron in spinach is inorganic, and it's physically impossible for our bodies to absorb any more than a mere tenth of it, even with a huge amount of Vitamin C to aid the absorption process. That's the same Iron content as most other vegetables, and even less than others."

If you're parents haven't already had their minds blown with the sheer power of that statement (and their child's excellent knowledge of college level Biochemistry which clearly exceeds their own), and in return say something like "You should still eat your Spinach because of all the other healthy vitamins and minerals in it!" then tell them this:

"It is true that Spinach will give you around half of your daily dose of a few types of B vitamins, which is impressive compared to some other vegetables (broccoli especially. I should note here that broccolli only contains trace amounts of any vitamin or mineral and could easily be susbtituted for a tastier necessity.) but there are far more efficient ways to get it. Carrots actually contain double the B vitamins of spinach, along with other nutrients, and taste far better when served caramelized with sugar. To make spinach an even less admirable sounding option, one should add that spinach actually contains over %400 of your daily dose of Vitamin K. Think that sounds healthy? Wrong. Vitamin K is fat soluble, not water soluble. This means that if you exceed the daily dose then your body cannot easily excrete the rest, so it becomes stored in the body's fatty tissue. Regularly exceeding the reccomended dosage by 2-3 times the normal amount (which spinach clearly does) can actually lead to health problems later in life."

What's that? Did I just say that Spinach could be considered less healthy than other vegetables? Why yes, yes I did. Now go on, children, take that which I have given you and set out into the world to spread the glories of truth and freedom from the oppression of misinformed parents everywhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like what you just read? Excellent. Because in a few weeks, the Mango is going Pro : ).

The End Of An Era

2008-09-05T13:29:00.000-07:00

For those of you who read my blog frequently, you might be wondering what became of the Miracle that is The Most Holy Hannukah Shampoo. And the truth is, in the true fashion of holy relics past, we may never know.

For those of you not so informed, here is the story: In April of 2007, JV was sent on an excursion to the grocery store to procure for me some daily necessities that I myself could not get ahold of. Not much attention was paid to these products at first (snack foods, beverages, hair and body care) but as time continued I observed a strange phennomenon. While the food was eaten up, the conditioner and body wash was used up, and the shower puff slowly disintegrated, the shampoo remained. An epic 3/4 of a year later, the shampoo was still fully intact. As of that moment, we realized that this was no ordinary shampoo- but a holy relic that, despite already lasting longer than any hair care product I have ever used so much of on such a regular basis, still had magical powers of longevity. It was then when we first wondered just how long this shampoo would last, and for how long we would witness this great miracle: The Miracle of the Hannukah Shampoo.

And as I said, following in the footsteps of great holy relics before it, we may never really know. For any of those hoping, in years to come, to form a gang of theologians, archaologists, explorers, and anthropolgists in order to quest for the lost Grail of the millenium (or for those simply curious), here is what scripture tells us:

"The Shampoo lasted, for certain, for a most incredible and holy six months after it was first recognized in all its true glory. That's one year and four months of miraculous existance. After that the shampoo was left almost unused for five weeks due to a necessary migration, but still performed its miraculous powers in the rare instances when it was ecalled upon. Once the migratory period had ended, it is very possible that the Shampoo could have continued in faithful miraculous service, as it did for at least a week after the Great Returning. But we will never know. We will never know because the Shampoo was betrayed. And yes ladies and gentleman, I, Juicy, am the cursed betrayor. While packing for another Great Migration, I questioned my faith. I packed not only the Most Holy Hannukah Shampoo, but another bottle, fearing the magic might cease soon. While unpacking my mother, as much the Eve of our time as I the Judas, asked of me "Why on earth did you pack two containers of shampoo, one of which looks to be nearly empty?" and my most unholy, lazy self was not willing to affirm my faith. I felt ridiculous attempting to preach the Word, as I should have done. Instead I replied in indifference and in lies ("I dunno") and the Most Holy Shampoo has not been seen since..."

Perhaps it lives on? Perhaps somewhere in the holy nooks and crannies of my room it continues in secret hiding, waiting for the great Ressurection, for the day when it will once again grace our lives with its holy existance? After all, it was never seen in my garbage can. But maybe it does not? Maybe it was disposed of far before I realized just what a great, cosmological crime I had comitted? And if it was never disposed of in such a shameful, disrespectful manner, how long would it have lasted? As you can see, from here on my friends, it is truly, more than ever, a question of Faith.

But for now, let us take a moment to celebrate this Most Holy Relic and its miraculous run, which lasted, even at its least, almost a year and a half. And of course, let us pray that some day I can be forgiven for my most abominable sin. And as those who cursed against the powers above in the Old Testament were marked with a mark of sin, I too have been marked. Indeed, because of this mark, I shall never again know the joys of the Miraculous Hannukah Shampoo, as I myself must now start on new type of cleansing... *

*... cleansing for color treated hair :D

A Trip To The Zoo

2008-09-02T12:48:00.000-07:00

Possibly the best thing you can see on a syllabus:

"Tests: 3 midterms (40-50 mutiple choice questions, in class) + final. Grading is based strictly on test scores, no curves. Typically (but not always) >80= A and ~65%= B.

Text: There is no assigned reading, but it helps to read the related material in the text which will be indicated."

What have I been doing with my life!? It's official- the Zoo is a gift from God to help students in actually challenging institutions get a break once inawhile, while learning about literally anything under the sun. Seriously, that system an even sweeter deal than pass/fail.

Let it be known, however, that 3-4 people need to drop this class to assure me a space in it, (damn premonition dream ruining my perfect plan...) and if a space that could have been mine goes to any of the three coasting, careless jocks that walked in five minutes late (or any other such characters that are probably just looking for an easy A in a science class) I will personally find out their names, hunt them down, and threaten to castrate them with a paperclip if they don't find another means of just barely graduating.

Wait, perhaps that was a little harsh...Oh well. I need this. Seriously.

Pukeage

2008-08-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

2 sets of mechanical pencils
+
1 set of cheap mini gel pens
+
2 packages of nice, Uniball pens
+
1 package of extra .7 lead

Guess the total.....

$39.58

A curse on thy soul, Staples, A curse on thy Soul!!!

2008-08-26T06:40:00.000-07:00

It all started when I learned I could fly. I closed my eyes to soar upward, upward, beyond the sky, beyond the universe, up even to different dimensions where the spirit realms are. When I opened my eyes I looked down, only to be dissapointed and then scared. I wasn't as high as I wanted to be, but I was sitting at the very edge of our world and it was an awfully long way down. Our world was a great black sphere, black as if it had been coated in rubber. There was a wide, round tunnel through the middle that I had come up through, and on my journey from bottom to top, I had passed rows and rows of balconies that demarkated each level of the world as I approached the brightness on top. I was flying, litterally flapping my wings in place, on the top of the edge the tunnel: a huge, jagged hole in the darkness on the very top of the world that was somehow darker than the rest of the pitch black earth.

I looked around to see that it was a sunny, clear day, and the earth was floating in a shallow sea. Surrounding it, floating like buoys, were the signs of the zodiac. Each where they should be, also cast in dark rubber. There was one new sign that I had never seen before that looked like a domino, but I assumed that was the new sign that has only recently joined the elliptic. I went down to bathe in the sea, rubbing by only one or two large, elegant fish that quickly swam away (I've always been afraid of meeting fish in that manner). I flew out quickly though, for the water was much too warm. I then headed towards the shore.

On the shore, I was greeted by The Great Lion Aslan. Some other creatures and myself headed towards a graveyard, in search of some knowledge that I cannot remeber. I did however, manage to speak to a dead king through his tomb, though now all I remember is something about the number three. I was the only one who could do this. On the way back, Aslan (Who may or may not have also had wings) told me that working in the hall of mirrors was "the closest he'd ever come to prostitution" because ghosts only regularly haunt places to keep humans amused, and could be doing far more important things with their ghostly powers.

And then all of a sudden I was tumbling through the universe. No wings, instead I looked around to see I was surrounded by small, dark pointy objects. Not stars, they were more like jacks. At first I was afraid, until I realized that I was being pulled away from them...towards a black hole. A jet stream was shooting out of the other end of the black hole, so I put my hand there to see what kind of matter could possibly be shooting out the other end of a black hole, but it was too hot for my hand to even come close. I looked up through the slightly flourescent, transparent hole just in time to glimpse the event horizon, and wonder how I should escape.

I was in a living room, and so was the black hole. A small girl with hair similar to mine was swimming around it (this living room was more like a large indoor pool with rustic walls). Then we (though I'm not quite sure who else) knew what we had to do. We started swimming around in circles counter to the direction of the black hole, until the water consumed it, and both came spiralling up to the walls before they were sucked outside through a small hole in the wall. I looked out the window to see the water that had once filled the room pour out into a rocky basin right by the edge of the sea. It looked very natural, as if the process was meant to happen and the earth was simply waiting for it. Once we had finished I went up to the girl's conservative Indian parents and asked, "Wait, why did we do that?" The mother gave me a knowing look and responded "Because she would have fallen in love with it. And as parents, isn't it easier to deal with a girl who's in love with a hole in the wall, than a girl who's in love with a Black Hole?"

I then walked out of their house with my friend at my side, into the shopping mall it was attached to. Excited to buy a journal and write about my awesome dream, I woke up.

And To Think I Almost Had to Get Up at 7:30 for Orgo II and Intro Physics...

2008-08-25T15:31:00.000-07:00

Some things in life are just so awesome, and manage to come together so perfectly in this entropically-driven world in which we all struggle to survive, that one just has to take the time to appreciate them. Ladies and gentlemen, my schedule for next semester:

Monday

10am- Awaken, Food (Yes, in an epic Phelpsian feat, Juicy will regularly eat breakfast that consists of more than coffee for the first time since...ever)

11am- 12:10 pm- "What Follows What? Valid and Invalid Reasoning" (A Logic course. Fulfill the Writing Intensive requirement and prep for the LSAT in just one class! And yes, this is my earliest class. Sexiness! I cannot possibly fuck this up.)

Afternoon- Lunch in the dorm, get ahead in work for the week/run any errands, go to the Gym (Yes! It will happen!) and maybe debate meeting.

Evening- dinner, a little more work, bed by 12 but no later than 2

Tuesdays and Thursdays

10 am- Awaken, food (Yeah, that's 10 hours of sleep if I so choose bitches)

10:40- Ride bus to institution affectionatley nicknamed "The Zoo".

11:15-12:30- "The Nature of Food" (A class combining three of my greatest loves: Chemistry, Food, and Boys. And it's only 3 credits! Organic What?)

12:30- 1:30- Lunch at said institution. Exactly how this works is still being planned, but luckily I will probably still be in the company of friends despite the socially awkward relocation.

1:30/1:35- Ride bus to insitution affectionatley nicknamed "The Tundra" (I could also lunch there if I so choose, but for now let's keep it simple)

2- 3:15- "Cosmology" (Coolest. Shit. Ever. Taught at my level, so no baby math but no multivariable calculus either, and hopefully with an equally cool and quirky professor!)

3:30- return to home insitution, affectionatley nicknamed lots of things. For now, let's use "Vagina World." Work till dinner in the dorm, then more work till bed at 12 but no later than 2.

Wednesdays and Fridays

10 am- Awaken, food

11am- 12:10- "What Follows What? Valid and Invalid Reasoning" (see Monday)

12:10-1:00- lunch in the dorm

1:10- 2:30- "History of Women in the US, 1865-Present" (Women's history at a Women's college; you really can't beat that. Plus, it counts towards my major!)

Rest of the day on Weds- work, dinner, gym (Yes! It will happen!)

Rest of the day on Fri- maybe some work, dinner, weekend.

C'mon, You know you're jelli..

Hey! Why Don't We Get Ice Cream? It's Cuz I'm Sick... Go Look At The Birds!

2008-08-21T14:34:00.000-07:00

Hmm, so much to blog about so little will...Now Here at MFA, we appreciate our readers. Not only do we prepare awesome (well, attemptedly awesome) Annual Mango Dinners (pictures soon) but we also offer lots of little tid bits of Juicy life advice, so here goes:

1. The age of a person is indirectly proportional to the rate at which they consume alcoholic beverages. It's never failed me- dinner parties, cocktail hour, chillaxing; the younger you are, the faster you drink.

2. Here is the reason all children act like crazy, disobedient, obnoxious miscreants: cartoons. Because children ultimatly aim to please and be humorous, they imitate the crazy antics they see and find funny in cartoons. This is why they think it's funny when they kick and punch each other/you, don't listen, don't shut up, etc. etc.

3. Having to put immense effort into controlling yourself from acting on violent thoughts inspired by said children when around them for more than 5 consecutive hours is perfectly normal.

4. Knowing someone likes you and getting borderline cocky about it is fun. Knowing someone doesn't like you and wallowing in your own self-pity about it is normal. The hazy, unsure, indifferent middleground, however, totally sucks.

5. As most of you already know, I have a thing for school supplies with funky designs and bright colors. When back to school shopping, selection is always key. This year however, I finally met my match. Screw Office Max and Staples, Wal-Mart is bitchin. They must have had 3 aisles of three ring binders alone. Like a folder's design but wish it was a notebook? They've got it. Like those post-its but wish they came in a smaller size? got it. Slightly different color? Sure. Wings and an incorporated coffee maker? I didn't see one, but had I asked an employee for help I bet they could have found that too. And just when I thought there really wasn't anything left to sell:

WTF? (That's a type of wine, btw.)*

*Though maybe it's a part of a trend, since just today I saw not plain "Mint" or even "Spearmint" Altoids. Oh no, they were "Creme de Menthe"

Bug Juice and Fermentation: An Excellent Combination

2008-08-10T19:24:00.000-07:00

In the past four websites I've visited (facebook and random blogs) three of them have talked about (or dedicated a note to) Camping. Surely this is a blogworthy event, I figured, so here we are. This all becomes truly Nexusy when I remind you all that a camping trip is being planned for this very weekend to honor this blog. (Well, partially. The other part is for some much needed Shizzy Crunkness. Sorry, Youngins, this is an 18+ event. We can hang out another time)

According to Wikipedia, Camping became popular in the early 20th century. This makes sense, of course, because that's also the time of prohibition in the US. (Coincidence? I think not) Even before then, camping was how those travelling Westward to freedom and new hopes in their humble covered wagons survived for months at a time. And since according to that logic Camping -> California and Colorado (both states on the foreground of decriminalization), clearly only good things can come of this.

So here's to Nature. Thanks, Mom, for giving people of all ages and backgrounds the oppurtunity to wait in lines or to go concerts for days on end, and attend parties so large that one house just can't sleep everyone. But most of all, Mom, thanks for giving people a legitimate excuse to get their real parents (and the rest of the world) out of their hair for awhile, and enjoy all the glories you have to offer (especially the chemical ones).

Oh, and best Wiki Link ever:

"Camping" see also: "Wilderness Diarreah"

Oh Colbert...

2008-08-04T18:25:00.000-07:00

Managing to insult both me and my mother in one excellent sketch :

Saturday Night Blogging

2008-08-02T17:10:00.000-07:00

For the first time in a long time, I have found myself in the not-nearly-as-sad-as-it-sounds-I-swear position of not only having nothing to do on a Saturday night, but even having no one available to do nothing with. While back in the day this situation could easily be ameliorated by AIM and Sex and the City DVDs (and they are helping) let's face it, this sucks. Even worse, some bizarre electronic device downstairs won't shut the fuck up. Oh, and remind me to tell my mother that the bottle of warming lube on her night table is a year past the expiration date. Don't worry, reading that could not be half as disturbing as actually being there, I assure you. (I'd tell her now, but she's out having dinner and sex. Yes, even my mother has something going on and I don't)

Ok, time to drop the familiar self-pitying tone and talk about something else. I know: my guilty pleasure of buying colorful, funky school supplies (binders, notebooks, planners, you get the drift). Come to think of it, that's pretty much all I have to say on the topic. So in the spirit of Sex and the City and everything I'm not doing tonight, here's the poll of the week (sorry I'm not as advanced as WYWY, you'll have to use the comments feature. Go anonymous if you want)

Butt Sex- yay or nay?

Kids These Days....

2008-07-28T14:20:00.001-07:00

Juicy: C'mon kids, get in line

*Here, Juicy eyes two 2nd grade boys looking straight at each other, and holding both of each others hands with their noses about two inches apart as one jokingly kisses/pecks at the other*

Juicy: Umm....line, guys, line...

Young Boy: Hey Juicy, do you want some fashion advice?
Juicy: Um...Sure, most of my friends seem to think I need it anyway. Go for it.
Young Boy: Well for starters, you shouldn't have any bumps on your head.
Juicy: Like, in my hair?
Young Boy: No, like on your face.
Juicy: Are you making fun of my acne?
Young Boy: Umm...Uhh...No.....
Juicy: Pshh. thanks. (That definitley killed my morning) Continue.
Young Boy: Well, you should paint one set of nails yellow, and the other orange, same on your toenails.
Juicy: OK, sure.
Young Boy: And you can keep those shorts, but you should wear highheels instead. And you should wear a shirt like this (a tube top). And you should wear lipstick, dark red lipstick.
Juicy: Umm...Ok that's pretty scandalous for camp but maybe another time.
Young Boy: Yeah, like if you want to get dressed up. Oh, and you should wear eyeshadow, black eyeshadow, and a brown purse with long dangly earrings, but keep your hair like that....What's scandalous?
Juicy: Uhh....bad, but not like your idea is bad, just like...racy. Tim [another councillor], any help here?
Tim: Sorry, you're on your own with that one.

(Here I lost the boy's attention, thank god)

*Young Girl and Juicy are playing a hand game*

Girl: Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,
All dressed in black, black, black,
With silver buttons, buttons, buttons,
All down her back, back, back,
She asked her mother, mother, mother,
For fifty cents, cents, cents, to see the....ahh I forgot!

Juicy: Elephant?

Girl: No...Oh, I got it!

She asked her mother, mother, mother,
For fifty cents, cents, cents
To see the boys, boys, boys
drop their pants, pants, pants,
She got in trouble, trouble, trouble,
by Mrs. Bubble, bubble, bubble....

I wrote it myself!

Juicy: ...

Breaking News Memo- 7/ 21/ 2008

2008-07-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

To Whom It May Concern,

As we all know, a decent percentage of our prime-time TV commercial slots are filled with adds for Sonic: A mysterious food chain, which, according to recently discovered shocking evidence ladies and gentlemen, might actually exist. It was a grueling search indeed (taking several groups of google keywords) and apparently we are not the only ones who often wonder "Where the hell is that place?" but we now, in fact, have an excellent reason to believe that a (supposedly) mediocre meal and drinks with creatively-crafted flavor shot combinations served to us retrostyle on rollerskates might just be that much closer.

And by that much closer, according to the newfound evidence, I mean approximatly three hours (four from the northern end of the state). It will be a quest indeed, but I have vowed that by the end of this year (or maybe even, with God's will, this summer) I will go to a Sonic and prove once and for all that their existance is not fiction, but fact. I know it will be a dangerous challenge, but the time has come to weed out the weaklings if that is the sacrafice required to once and for all turn theory to law. Be assured, a discovery of this calibur's implications will ricochet across all fields and far into the future for generations to come. In the name of Science, Men, who's with me?

A professional artist's interpretation of the mysterious food chain:

All parties interested, please contact me via the 'comments' link below.

Sincerely yours,

Dr. Juicy, PhD.

This One Time, At Science Camp...

2008-07-17T16:25:00.000-07:00

It seems that somehow while being put in charge of a group of elementary-school aged kids, I have also regressed to my earlier, simpler days. I eat a packed lunch from a colorful box, avoid large words, and find myself quietly lusting after someone I've had about three two-sentenced conversations with. (I'd try for more, but then he might know I like him!) Anyway, Here are some highlights from the week:

Councillor: Ok, what paint colors does this table want?

Young Boy: PINK!!!

Councillor : Why don't you go run around over there?

Young Boy: *runs over to light post and starts to hump it*

Young Girl: Hey, wanna know how I have a cat and don't have a cat at the same time?

Juicy: Um, was it in a box and did you talk to a man named Schrodinger?

Young Girl: *breaks into hysterical laughter*

(I still don't think she got it...)

The Search Continues....

2008-07-11T10:25:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, I am reminded that being a lawyer is actually a cool, and very worthy profession. The usual thanks of course go to Law and Order (Though maybe a TV show isn't the best reason to choose a job, plus I don't think I have the balls to acutually be a cop) and in this case, two very interesting documentaries on VH1: "Sex: A Revolution" and "America: The Drug Years."

Not only do I highly reccomend them both to anyone who wants to gain a profound cultural insight into how far america has come in the past 50 years alone, but they also are an excellent reminder that The Man is exactly that- a singularity that can easily make mistakes, and who cares only for its own well being. Most of all, he is not to be trusted. For example, while America was attempting to crack down on Hippie drug use during the Vietnam war, the CIA was simultaneously trafficking herion by the shitload to appease eastern war lords, and it actually ended up in the hands of our soldiers themselves. While at first this was a legitimate way to deal with war stress (probably similar to what we're doing now with Prozac) at the height of the war an average of two soldiers were dying a day from overdoses- that's 1 in every four men of the entire army. Those who survived came back with serious addiction problems, and the CIA even helped them to smuggle heroin back to the US in body bags until the DEA was formed a few years later. Long story short- thanks to the government, we have heroin on our streets.

And heres a special snippet from "Sex: A Revolution" that really managed to get my blood boiling: At Cornell University in the 1950s, female students lived in proctored dormitories and had to always check in by 10:30 (no male visitors, of course) while the boys had no such limitations and could pretty much do as they pleased. Obviously this hits a soft spot for me (having had to deal with check-in for 3 years and still feeling a little deprived at a women's college) but it still makes me feel an incredible sense of relief that I'm growing up then and not now. I really think that kind of biased rule making is disgusting.

...And then I think to myself: But what if it still is? I take a lot for granted being a vagina-owner in America. If I were born in Africa I might have been forced to undergo a clitorectomy; If I were born in the conservative Middle East I would have had to remain subserviant to my husband and hide in a chidoor all day. And imagine the horrible things that go on in other countries? Yup, I think we've found at least one legitimate possible carreer path (aside from the small possibility of getting myself shot).

What's My Age Again?

2008-07-07T17:59:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lull, but they say boring life -> even more boring blogging, so I was at least trying to retain some form of quality control. Today however, we have some good news, and by saturday afternoon, we (or rather, I) I will have something even better.

Everyone, meet Baby. She looks something like this:

Brand new, five doors, Tiptronic transmission, lots of airbags, "Candy White" coloring, and, best of all, she's mine! All mine! (Technically the Padre's name is on the title so he can write it off as a company car, but you get the idea.) I even co-signed the lease so I could establish good credit. (This was the same week I actually got really excited about my new healthcare program...it was a bizarre experience). Anyway, there are only three conditions that govern my use of the car:

1. No using cell phone while driving (given)

2. Keep the car clean, and no smoking in the car (sure, why not)

3. No long distance driving until you are fully adjusted to the new car. This should take no more than a few weeks. (common sense)

In addition, Whether or not you get good grades next semester determines how much insurance you have to pay.

...Wait? What's this? Is Dad actually thinking like a reasonable, and perhaps, dare I say, liberal parent on something significant and relative to daily life? I was just about to near shit myself with joy, when this beautiful conversation took place:

Male Predecessor: You know, my girlfriend is worried about leaving you alone in the house for a week; we might not go on vacation.

Offspring: I'm sure she's not the only one with that concern...

Male Predecessor: Not necessarily, but it would be better if you had friends over so long as you don't trash the place.

... ... ... Seriously?

Indeed, there are some things in life so joyous there is only one way to react to them, and that is exactly what I did. I ran upstairs, and jumped on my bed.

Tell Me, Juicy, Do You Still Sleep With A Gun Under Your Pillow?

2008-06-30T10:37:00.000-07:00

Now recently I have been doing a lot of thinking about my career, and I'm sure I've already bored you all to death with my usual array of options (Lawyer, Investigator, Meth Lab Operator, etc.). But the truth is, there is one more option I have yet to divulge; the ultimate career that I have never dared to actually attempt to pursue but still manages to seriously get my blood running, and that I am now legitimatley considering for lack of any current, more interesting ideas. Think about it: Juicy...as James Bond.

(Well, the female American version. One of Charlie's Angels, perhaps?)

Now there are a lot of pros and cons to being a covert ops field agent that had prevented me from really pursuing this before, but let's take a moment to analyse them:

Pros

Guns
I'd have to stay in kickass shape
Travel and adventure
Sexy outfits
Get to use applied Chemistry
Use analytical skills
Use language skills
Use badass skills

Cons

Guns
I'd have to stay in kickass shape
I'd become government property (unless I went Charlie's Angels style)
I wouldn't actually get my own theme music
Even if I do get to keep said sexy outfits, and they manage to stay in one piece, they might smell of sweat/ashes/gunpowder/nitroglycerin
Higher risk for STDs
I'm not Bill Gates/Will Hunting/Our Valedictorian, so I probably don't have the brain cells for it anyway, and would end up stuck behind a desk doing the NSA's boring dirtywork.

Clearly, this is a far more legitimate dialogue than I previously thought. And after all, if we've learned one thing, I have no future as a physicist. Why you ask? Here:

Me: "But if they all clump together when they skydive, won't it be more dangerous because they fall faster?" (*SHAME! UTTER SHAME!*)

Oh, and quote of the week: "say hi to him, he has cancer"- Dad

** Or maybe not all all is lost for a carreer in physics! Yes, I foolishly forgot that the acceleration of gravity is a constant BUT...

1. P=MV=momentum
2. if V is a constant regardless of M then P will still increase due to M.
3. According to Newtons Law the painful force of earth that is exerted on them in impact is the equal and opposite force to the momentum they exert on the earth when they fall
4. ERGO- an increased mass may not lead to a faster descent, but it will still lead to more painful results upon impact for the entire party.

Ha! Take that Hawking...

Dirty Little Secret

2008-06-22T15:20:00.000-07:00

I have a few guilty pleasures in life. This blog post is about one of them.

It all started on sad day of mild desperation (that probably had something to do with chemistry, boys/lack thereof, or confusion regarding my general overall direction in life) but once you pop, the fun don't stop. No, I'm not talking about drugs or what/who I was doing around this time last year, I am talking about this website. Though this logic doesn't usually help when I'm trying to comfort my friends, I've always found an intense amount of relief comes from knowing that there are tons of people in the world who are probably going through exactly what you are, or maybe even far worse. Yeah, your life sucks now, but at least you're not pondering suicide or overcoming child molestation. Dissastified with something in life? No worries, you're one of at least a million, and the world still seems to be functioning normally.

It's interesting to see that secrets actually tend split four ways. A large chunk are somewhat serious, profound truths that the author might well deny if ever confronted with (eg: "I live in a small, rightwing Christian town and I'm gay!"). The second aren't entirely secrets at all, but more like furtive, direct messages hoping to be found by happenstance. Their creators, for some reason or another, decided actually telling the intended recipient was a bad idea, but they were just so overcome with feeling they had to at least feed the fantasy that the message might still get through somehow. (These first two account for most of the emoness I'll be discussing later). The third kind are usually some sortof statement that's no secret at all, and really just intended for a mass audience that post secret is facilitating the attention of. The fourth run the gamut of categories, but they're more lighthearted and fun. Here's a personal favorite:

(And you all thought academia was a stretch...anyways...)

Now since the discovery of this great treasure trove of humanity my quality of life has generally improved; but I still like to check in every week anyway. After awhile the content of the cards does become a little pathetically predictable and wreak of emo drivel, but maybe we shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this. The majority of the cards contain a truth that's had a major, defining influence in someone else's life. While we all can distract ourselves with hobbies, TV shows, and (to a slightly less frivolous degree) jobs and careers, It's a nice reminder that the most important things in life often end up being the quality of our relationships with other people. Furthermore, it's nice to think that the world does still contain a few people who seem to really care about each other (even if it is often in that slightly overdone, emo, unrequitted way) or people who at least aren't the cold, heartless type that I generally figure the world is full of.

Long story short- keep 'em coming, I'm listening.

Some Things In Life Are Just Wrong

2008-06-19T21:09:00.000-07:00

"Cookies are sometimes food." "Eat cookies after good stuff like veggies." What the fuck is this!? Response to childhood obesity my ass. I'm sure these kids will lose so much weight eating double the amount of food: cookies, and other "healthier" food to compensate. (Like maybe burgers and fries, or pizza) Just let the kids eat the damn cookies for chrissakes.

Trust me, they're disgusting.

Finally, Some adds on the side of my facebook page:

"An effective method. Tree Trial!"

"You and your group will experience the true sport of Montreal club hopping while avoiding all line-ups"

You'd think facebook adspace would be pricey and ergo worth a proofreading. Apparently not.

And a quick question: I know Apple is a fan of the whole sleek design thing (that's pretty much all they have going for them) but is it so abominable to aesthetics to have a right and a left click mouse? This whole two-handed control button thing is absurd.

Blogging Saves the Day!

2008-06-16T14:19:00.000-07:00

This week two years ago, our favorite obnoxoiusly orange blog was born. To celebrate such a fantastic feat of my own attention span, I have decided to (try my best to) blog every (week)day surrounding the great commemoration of this event. I don't think I can think up any presents for good ol' MFA right now, but these things are always appreciated. Also, if anyone would like to present me with a red cape and goggles, I'm sure I could find a use for them.

While our cracked-out gamer friend has been awaiting the delivery of his fix in the mail, I too have been eagerly awaiting a questionable purchase. (No, it's not that riding crop...not yet at least) Having succumbed to the temptaion of instantaneous, spontaneous music purchases at only "$0.99" (we forget tax) a song and the laziness of corporatley controlled, pre-installed software, It seems that over time Itunes has become my main digital music organizer. And since those evil geniuses at Apple decided to put all Itunes purchases in a special format that could be played by no other competing MP3 player without an excess of effort (thus furthur enabling their ultimate goal of world domination) it was only a matter of time until I succumbed to masses and did the previously unthinkable. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I finally bought an Ipod.

Everyone, meet Burnette (or "Bernie" for short). She looks something like this:

At least If I'm going to help out a corporate giant I can have the satisfaction of knowing that some obnoxiously small part of my purchase went to go help fight AIDS. (I also mainly just have a thing for the color red.) Speaking of design, I consider this further Nexusy proof that all things awesome come from California (where it was designed), and that I must get there at some point in life.

I Don't Remember It Looking Quite So Awkward...

2008-06-14T06:49:00.001-07:00

The other day, I attended what is possibly one of the most emo events ever. A middle school (emo) graduation (emo), followed by a dance (uber emo) for all the kiddies.

The class had about 30 kids in it, and it was funny because it seemed to be split up into two types of kids. Some looked like they could still be in elementary school, while the other half were probably taller than me and looked more like graduating seniors instead. (I swear, one of 'em could have passed for 21). The Catholic mass turned graduatuion ceremony dragged on a bit, but there were a few highlights:

The black woman infront of us yelping "Woohoo! Halleluja praise the Lord!" and almost bursting into tears every time her overachieving son was honored.

trying to guess, in this miniscule and tightnit class of 30, which one of the girls my cousin might have a crush on

When they called out for the Honor roll students to stand up, and about five kids (including my youngin' cousin) stood up. My family was all proud and clapped, and I was too. But then they sat down, and the MC called out for all the kids graduating with High Honors to stand up, and there were a little under 10 of them. Hahah...ouch.

But like I said, this was a truly emo event. While we ate dinner in a church basement (If you haven't noticed yet, it was a catholic school) while being bombarded by slow, mediocre, gushy rock music (emo), my entire family kept commenting on "The Girl In the White Dress" that my (no longer so) lil' cousin was hanging out with. Granted even for a girl in middle school she was notably attractive: one of those tall, sociable, inherenlty radiant types. (Bitch?) but my aunt waived them off as "just friends". Regardless, (and trying to be the cool, understanding, older cousin that I am) I just respectfully looked away and drummed my fingernails while everyone else was half staring at them. God knows the last thing any one wants is to get your whole family involved in that kind of situation. Plus, it must be said that my cousin was on the shorter side of the class. My dad actually asked him about it (second hand embarassment, much?) and I think he said he liked someone else. Who knows. All I know is that once we left, and after that first dance of many started, then ended, it was either

a.) the best night of his life

b.) fun but mildly dissapointing; or,

c.) a huge bummer

Godspeed, youngin', godspeed. Oh, and welcome to Highschool. (so enjoy multiple choice while you still can)

I would usually spend some time reflecting on my own middle school experience [see title] or getting around the fact that "Little Joe"is actually old enough to think well for himself, mack on mini-hoes, and use the F word, but this cool older cousin just got wheels for the day. Peace!

Youz is Startin 2 Bugz Me! && <3

2008-06-10T09:47:00.000-07:00

So everyone knows that the bumper sticker application is pretty much the most genius addition to that social networking site (whatcha call it again?) that we all know and love. But while wasting time browsing through stickers (not having a search option- also a genius idea causing us to waste hours on the application) I can't help but find myself a little annoyed. For starters, a large chunk of the stickers just look something like this:

This is all sweet and endearing at first, until you've read some girly, feel good saying for like the 50th time in the same cutesy font and you start to wonder "are girls just pathetic, insecure people who need to be constantly reminded of their self worth, or are most guys just douches?" (excellent question) Then again, girls are by no means afraid to hide their inner bitch, as seen here:

A little scary, huh? Yeah I (the ex) would really choose to say that over bumper stickers, and I (the new girlfriend) would totally keep that on my profile. Then of course, the cousin to these bumper stickers, is something like this:

Again, cute, endearing, meaningful....but do we really need hundreds of them even though they all say essentially the same thing? I mean really that was so creative. Another close relative of these stickers are these:

Now I know as well as anyone that the bumper sticker application can be an amazing way to share feelings, but can we cut the emo crap? Yeah thanks, I mean really who wants to admit to that, and if they do who wants to display it on their profile. Speaking of, I would just like to point out that this one is entirely untrue (unless you're more pathetic than anyone I've ever met):

But that said, we should not forget the true genius of the bumper sticker application. Some fantastic disses can only be delivered quite so poignantly as a bumper sticker can, for example

and

And when the time does come to talk about feelings, Bumper stickers does offer us a fantastic variety of funny, creative, nonlame ways to do this in that awesome way that only bumper stickers can. For example

and

Oh, and just because I thought you all would enjoy this one:

(Cuz if he did it, it's clearly OK)

How About Them Apples?

2008-06-09T08:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was in an Antiques store and I saw the kind of computer they used to teach us to type on in 1st grade.

Oops, my bad. It was actually a more recent model for sale. Still.

That is all.

Something Intellectuabibble (Or Rather- Intellectuabubble)

2008-06-06T17:40:00.000-07:00

Usually on that rare occasion when I watch the news, the part about the economy sortof just goes in one ear and out the other while all therandom figures just fly over my head. But today was a little different. I wasn't watching the local news (Crap programming that it is. Yes, I get it, someone else was raped or in a car accident and some local kindergartners got a visit from a senator...what can I do about this exactly?) but another show, I think it was something to do with a Mr. French.

Realization 1: Paying for college loans and grad school loans is leaving our generation in debt well into their 30s and 40s. So much for youthful and carefree years of youth when these days you can graduate grad school with almost $400,000 in debt, and no guarantee of a job that will pay well enough to pay this off, despite your hard earned degrees.

Realization 2: Unless I miraculously come into tons of money or move to England (Where they pay you to go to college) I'm not having kids. (See Realization1. Is that selfish?)

Realization 3: Today the cost of oil went up by 11 dollars a barrel. 11 DOLLARS! IN ONE DAY! You know how much the price went up yesterday? $5.50. Slight difference much? In a year, the cost of a barrel of oil has gone from around $60 to $140.

Realization 4: Do you know why? NOTHING! All this hype about an oil shortage that hasn't come yet (albeit impending, no one can deny that) is doing nothing but making gas even more expensive. In addition, some rich guys decide they wanna play the market, so they buy oil, making the cost more expensive and waiting for a peak in the cost, and then sell it for a profit. Since the spike caused the DJIA to fall 400 points, this is hurting the average American even more (Since stocks seem to be a far more popular portfolio option for most than crude oil). And of course, on the topic of rich guys, we have Big Oil companies and our favorite president ever, who doesn't seem to be doing much to help get the dollar value back up. Yes, those are all excellent reasons to make it fiscally impossible for my mom to ever drive on a full tank of gas, and to force many of my friends and their families to curtail usual, fun practices because they can only spend so much on gas money. While we can take a little time to enjoy the irony of big buisness and environmentalist hippies aiding the same cause, this is truly ridiculous. When does it end?!

Realization 5: So pretty much by the time I have to go out and support myself my entire generation is going to be doubly fucked. And what is the government doing about this? Well I googled a bit and got nothing, so I'm assuming that's the answer.

Realization 6: Damn that's depressing, no wonder nobody watches the news.

Realization 7: I think I'm a socialist, or at least America and it's leaders need a serious kick in the ass so at least that much can go a little red.

And Then She Realized, She Wasn't Alone...

2008-06-01T18:14:00.000-07:00

Oh, and if anyone happens to be splashed at a pool this summer that hasn't been properly chemically tested yet (resulting in skin irritation from the high Chlorine concentration) I reccomend drying the area as much as possible, then mushing up a bannana and applying the product to the skin area in a 90% molar excess. Just a thought.

(nothing highly concentrated or intraveneous though, apparently thats part of the lethal injection process. Who knew?)

Disco Synthesis Update

2008-05-27T11:59:00.000-07:00

While unfortunate weather and federal law have prevented my partner and I from commencing the true process, I am glad to announce that the skeleton of a recipie has been developed and an excellent product is anticipated.

In other news, the upcoming Sex and the City Movie is being referred to as "The Super Bowl for Women" because apparently we can all "come together and complete our interaction with a show that has spoken to us so deeply" (not to mention the in-film advertising is recieving pretty much the same hype, yuck). Sure, why not. And here's a fun quote from a mediocre movie: "Guys, a woman's purse is her secret source of power, alright? There are many dark and dangerous things in there, that we, the male species, should know nothing about."

Actually, I've often wondered how guys get by with just stuffing everything in their pockets. I mean granted that a purse (especially a large one) ends up holding tons of unecessary life residue like ticket stubs and lipbalm, but how do guys fit a wallet, a cell phone, glasses, sunglasses, and keys all in their pockets comfortably? And what if they're not wearing cargo pants? Is that how the sagging pants look got in in the first place? (in addition to the whole prison/ghetto trend) I'd really like to know.

(As you can see, it's been a pretty epic week.)

Oh Happy Day!

2008-05-22T13:00:00.000-07:00

So a pending employment opportunity has sadly prevented me from proclaiming this to the world via facebook status, but just so y'all know:

I'M NOT ON ACADEMIC PROBATION!!!!!!! YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!! 2.73 BABY!! OH YEAH!!!!

*cue dance party*

That is all.

Like Animal House...But Better

2008-05-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

Well actually I've only seen Animal House once, and for some reason I barely remember anything that happenned in that movie except for a Highschool girl that I could have sworn had a masechtomy and Belucci putting some cheese in his mouth and trying to pelt it at a bunch of jocks like it was a machine gun or something. Anyway, I like Will Ferrel better (lord knows why) So I guess we can safely say that Old School probabaly kicks Animal Houses's ass (OK, so Animal House did have the whole plot idea in the first place, but Old School perfected it)

Anyway, It's movies like this that make me feel that warm, fuzzy nostalgia for back when I was in college. Wait....Oops, I still am in college. My B. Guess life is just awesome then. Who knew? (or at least it will be from now on because I have had a major epiphany involving concert tickets, an essentially failed exam, a prize-winning paper, and overall not nearly enough alcohol)

Though if anyone would like to start a bullshit based coed fraternity, I'm obviously all in.

Now, let's use another element of the film to transition from talking about a lighthearted, happy subject to a serious one filled with impending doom. Ready, set, go! It seems to me that media portrays women in a horrible and degrading manner. No, I don't care about the fact that they're objectified as sex objects or essentially the basis of the porn industry, I'm actually talking about young men's wives. You know, those good, wholesome women that men (apparently) decide are awesome enough to forsake thair bachelorhood for and hot enough to keep them satisfied for the Rest. Of. Their. Lives. (I actually heard recently that about 3/4 of married men admit to cheating, but let's not even think about that) Here's my issue- they're too good. Or at least they are according to the media.

Are we really always the bad cops? Forsaking awesome amenities like a living room hot tub or mini bar for Pottery Barn furniture and matching take-off-your-shoes carpets? Giving our husbands curfews and feeling so threatened by something as trivial as a porn collection that it must be hidden in the garage? Insisting on approving nearly everything that goes on in their lives while using our pouty looks and coy glances to slowly bring an end to everything that is, well, fun? I would hope not. As truly touching as it is that guys will be willing to put up with this shit to please us, it sort of scares me that women and marriage are seen as the gateway choice to a boring life. Long story short, if I ever get like that, slap me. (And if my husband ever gets so drunk he decides to go streaking around town by himself, remind me that that is fucking hillarious.)

Public Service Announcement

2008-05-14T10:40:00.000-07:00

Life is full of many questions. Questions like "how best can I spend the next three months of free time" (YES!) and "When the hell am I going to run out of this shampoo already?" But here's one maybe the readership can help me out with: Why do men under the age of 27 even consider growing facial hair? A male friend of mine once said that men grow out their facial hair because they're lonely. Do they realize that this will only perpetuate the saddening cycle of lack of both women and the use of a razor? Of all my girlfriends (and there are many) I think only one has ever expressed any sortof positive feelings around facial hair on guys our age whatsoever. Most of them just think "Yuck!" Please, young men of the world, consider that an indicator. Maybe it does make you feel older or more manly or whatnot, but why don't you spend the time you'd usually spend growing out your hair doing something even more manly? I dunno, maybe like lifting weights, macking hoes...shaving? Just some suggestions, you get the drift. Hell, even writing emotional poetry beats a beard.

PS: No hatin' koops. I know you're already a lost cause and I'm not even going to bother. I hope you thoroughly enjoy resembling a pedophile. Seriously though, doesn't that thing get hot in the summer?

Musings From a Carrel Devoid of All Hope and Caring

2008-05-02T15:12:00.000-07:00

I have a long night ahead of me.

No, I will not be doing chemistry volunteer work. (as I wish I was)

No, I will not be getting shizzy crunk with my dormmates afterwards. (as I wish I was)

Instead, I will be starting and finishing the 8-10 page paper that was due this morning about a topic I really couldn't care less about. After that, I will write a french paper (also due this morning) on a topic that not only could I not care less about right now, but based on answering a question that I don't even really understand. Then I will write the lab due two days ago, and commence the last ever consecutive (for this semester at least) "Week from Hell- Part III." Damn, I really wish I'd eaten more "jello" and drank more "pineapple juice" last night (not to mention made out with like 5x more people. Oh well, it's not like any of them had penises anyway).

On the bright side- I now own an awesome umbrella.

Really doesn't balance out, does it?

PS- Fuck the Man. Oh wait, I can't, I don't have one. Dammit.

The Sad Thing Is, I'm Actually Not Exaggerating

2008-04-27T22:04:00.000-07:00

People get into relationships in the first place because they make them happy. Indeed, the first phase of any relationship is a joyous one- cute little surprises from your spouse, long meaningful conversations, mindblowing love-making- it can make life worth living on even the toughest of days. But sadly, relationships don't always stay that way. People take others for granted, neglect them, or just downright change. Eventually, the relationship becomes too much of a hassle to deal with than it is a joy, and that's when you have to ask yourself the pivotal question- just a rough spot, or not worth continuing all together?

I can't exactly explain what happened between me and Chemistry. Maybe it was because for the first time in a long time, the intro class came really easily to me. I was doing science, and I wasn't sucking at it! Maybe it was because I soon learned that this actually had a lot to do with some of the cooler aspects of physics, like quantum mechanics and entropy. Maybe it was the thought of understanding what makes things react and fizz and bubble, and being able to synthesize any thing I wanted if given the right ingredients. Maybe I just liked the sound of it and can picture myself doing it. Hell, maybe it was just cuz I go to a women's college.

Anyway, registration has already closed so in all liklihood I'm already sucked into taking the continuation next semester. But with dad freaking out over how much I'm killing my GPA (hopefully Pass/Fail will ameliorate that, plus its only one of three classes, though ironically the class will still take up most of my time) my social life seriously suffering, and my overall well being on the hinge, I have to wonder if this is really all worth it.

So here it is, it's time for the list. Chemistry: what I like about it, What I don't like about it. I know this must make for incredibly boring blogging, but I REALLY need some advice.

Good:
*learn really cool stuff that is relevant to my daily life. Deeply satisfying.

* Possibly the most I've ever been drawn to any class. (Though comporable to AP US History)

*get to go to lab and do fun lab experiements! ( highlight of my weekdays when it's not stressing me out, which it doesn't do too often.)

*If i get good grades in it after all, I will feel accomplished and be able to synthesise stuff! Yes it will take a lot of work, but I'll know chemistry! And people don't do much on weekends here anyway.

*Can teach it to women in countries dominated by archaic patriarchies.

*Won't have to look back and think "Damn I loved that class, but I gave up because I'm just too dumb to do chemistry. Silly me, thinking I could actually be good at a science."*shudder* (Warning: might also lead to intense bitterness around the subject for the rest of my life)

Bad:
*manipulating it in its entirety is something that might not be mastered without much more concentration. (WTF is with all these isomers?) Plus, if I am desperate to synthesize something, there's always the internet.

* Inevitbly falling behind, then COMPLETELY devoting EVERY OTHER WEEKEND to studying for exams, realizing there's no way I can organize then cram all this information in my head even after spending at least 12+ hours studying, bursting into tears at least 3x, and still getting Cs.

*Missing out on social engagements and the possiblity of enjoying my young life because of said exams.

*I could teach the humanities too, or be a better lawyer and just fight for human rights as a whole.

* I can always go back to school and learn this stuff when I'm older (If I have the time and money)

Again, any advice is greatly appreciated here.

Adventures In Academia: Taming the Scanner

2008-04-21T21:26:00.000-07:00

When I was in 8th grade, I was doing a project on a local University and spent a decent amount of time in that institution's library doing research. It was here when I first discovered the Microform. Though off limits to me at the time, I knew that one day in my future as a grown up (barely) , intellectual (sorta), responsible (snicker), college student I might embark on a project so intellectually profound that I would have to resort to using whatever kinds of special data was stored in such a way. Yesterday was that day. As you might have guessed, aside from feeling as if I too had now completed some sort of bizarre right of passage of college students everywhere since our parents graduated, the experience really wasn't too glamorous.

In case you were wondering, a Microform reader looks something like this:

As you can see, the Microform reader is one of those fantastically awkward pieces of technology that came into a shortlived prime right after we perfected the analog computer, but just before fully digital technology was mainstream. No matter how you try to spin it in your head, there really isn't anything too dignifying about sitting in front of a burly, beige piece of equiptment like that and staring at it's oversized, blaring screen. It was a truly ghetto experience. And speaking of the ghetto, they're friggen scary too. Just one little flip of the power switch and the large, blank screen lights up right away as you hear whizzing fans and ancient circuit boards awaken, hungry for tasty young college students.

Indeed, for most of yesterday, I was the microform scanner's bitch. Comically, I had to often resort to manually adjusting the tape, and even putting an entire roll back on the reel when the machine disfuctioned and I ended up surrounded by about five yards of loose film strip, no joke. Thank you 1970s technology, really. Let's not even begin to talk about printing.

But today I mastered the Microfilm reader. Today not only did I demand that its spinning feed wheel do my exact bidding, but I even mastered the art of printing out beautifully contrasted and focused copies (Albeit at the OBNOXIOUS price of $ .15 per page) and assembling them into quality source materials. Hey, you know those hand outs they've been passing out to us for years since grade school? Except for the ones from text books, I think this might be where the rest come from. Who knew?

While I was in the process of scrolling through a reel of materials (FYI: You know you've spent too long studying when you see a really ripped up document and think "Hey, that's really badass!") I couldn't help but think about something else that always occurs to me when I'm in the large, main library at my college. In this specific case it was: where did all these random documents come from and who decided which ones were special enough to go here? More generally: Half of this stuff seems like random junk. Who would have thought that a pamphlet advertising opportunites for women with PhDs at Radcliffe in the 50s would make its way to the shelves of a respectable library alongside encyclopedias, thesises, and novels? 50 years at least before cultural studies and SWAG had probabaly gained any recognition, who bothered to keep it? And 50 years from now, what about our life will, essentially by pure happenstance, find its way to the shelves of our grandkids' schools?

Oh, and here's a fun, Nexusy fact: the microfilm collection I was using was assembled in my old hometown where I lived in middleschool, same zip code and everything. This is significant seeing as, as the blog buddies can vouch for, I used to live in the middle of nowhere with literally nothing but a cornfield and a church. Wonder how that happenned.

Only At My College....

2008-04-16T11:32:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, it was sexibition: An event where everyone is invited to have nude or partially nude photographs taken of themselves ("anonymous vagina shots welcome! ({})" ). Some of these photos are used to advertise for the event around campus (including full frontals), and all are put on display during the dance that is sexibition itself.

This weekend, it's this. And yes, these flyers are all over campus:

Don't worry, I coudn't stop staring either.

It's ironic that on a day dedicated to bodily respect the first verb in the list is "Fuck It" (as opposed to "pleasure" or "make love to" or another word that doesn't have like 39 derogatory, hateful, or apathetic implications.) But hey, it's college; whatever tickles your clit. Apparently that's the point too... If you can't read the print, they also had "hump it" and "explore it," so we get the point already. And why else would there be a workshop with the local sex toy store? I don't think I even want to know what a "radical menstruation workshop" is.

Oh, and for the record, those are "body part cupcakes" they're referring to. Wonder where...

Post 123: Go Fibonacci. And More Juicy College Tidbits

2008-04-13T21:49:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what your grade will be on an exam that hasn't been handed back yet? Here's a nifty way to find out. Simply check all the following that applied to you as you took the test:

1. At one point in the test, you only had 10 minutes left. ____

2. At that point, you had not yet started the final problem. ____

3. At that point, you had not fully completed more than 1 or 2 of the problems ____

4. Most importantly: At that point, you found yourself shouting expressions under your breath that you never actually use in daily life (in this case, "BitchesAndHoesBitchesAndHoes!") while mildly flailing your writing implement and slightly disturbing other library patrons. _____

Now, add up one point for every check. If many people you talked to about the same exam responded with 2 or more points, subtract a point from your score for a generous curb. Compare your final result to the table below:

1- maximum A *

2- maximum B+

3- maximum C+

4- heads= pass, tails= fail.

*Subtract major life points, and go back to MIT where you came from. Seriously, stop using the rest of us just so you can feel good about not being a total visionary.

NB: Don't leave such a crucial calculation up to Blogger, as it clearly sucks at counting.

Post 121: Go Pascal. And screw 42, the Answer is Benzene

2008-04-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

Every now and then, something happenns in life that gives me the slightest glimmer of hope in the unseen. This "nexusy" thing proves (though perhaps somewhat nonsensically and esoterically) that life is not all random entropy, and that sometimes the karmic energy we put into things can actually come back to us for the better. True, it's all a philosophical fallacy, but it's nice to think that there are powers from above and that they might be listening to you for once instead of seeing how best they can position to magnifying glass to scald your little peon ass.

I have spent the past week stressing/studying (probably more of the former) for a chemistry exam coming up. I am actually fortunate however, because had my professor not spontaneously developed a kidney imfection and been rushed to the ER, I would have already failed it. Godsend? Most definitley. Remember that uber cliche Carry-Bradshaw-like post in which I mused about protons and people? Apparently, the answer to my silly metaphorical question actually does have chemical back up. (If you're wondering, the answer is Benzene.) Bizzarre coincidence? In all liklihood yes, but I really need all the optimism I can get right now, and it does work a little too well.

What was I going to write about again? Oh yeah, pessimism. Today I realized one of the reasons why I like science so much. (aside from needing something to distract me from the lack of other things going on in my life...testosterone synthesis anyone?) By technical definition, you cannot have faith in science, because the whole point of scientific research and discovery is that things can be tested, proven, and repeated.You could argue, however, that you can have faith in science. The scientific method is a direct product of the science that it attempts to justify. Since people can really beleive in anything they want, someone could choose to not beleive in science all together, thus making the method debatable, thus making it possible to actually have faith in science since you can no longer prove anything. But semantics aside, I do have a sortof faith in Science and its solidarity. I have faith that if I do well academically and learn lots of science, it will do me nothing but good in life. Any energy put into learning science is guaranteed to be both rewarding in the future, and personally satisfying now. There is no chance of false hope. But having faith in science is such a fucking safe route, no matter how you spin it. I need faith in something else. No, I don't need born again christianity, I just need faith in life. (0r people, or at least something that doesn't involve electrons) Seriously, where did that go? And more importantly, how do you get it back?

C'mon, you know you had it once. When you were little and wanted to be the next Einstein or Fitzgerald or Kurt Cobain. When hard work and honesty paid off in your small, synthetically structured little world. When "Shit" didn't "Happen." When you didn't spend every moment in the present thinking about what it would bring in the future and trying to selfishly strategize for the best possible outcome just so you could be "happy" in the one little life you get; because now you know better than to think that everything will just fall into place.

This brings us back to the beginning of the post. (Fitting, since most paradoxes of life seem to work in cycles anyway.) Nexusy things prove that you can have faith in life, but they only prove it if you beleive in the fallacy of divine proof to begin with (as opposed to random coincidence.) In this way, having faith in life is actually just as certain (or uncertain) as having faith in science. Suck on that. Maybe in the end just having faith is enough to make something work out, at least it can be for a little while, unitil it backfires. After that you're fucked.

Faithful optimists say just give it time and look at the big picture. What they really mean is wash your hands of your own life and be willing compromise everything you really want out of it. It's the pessimists who carpe the fucking diem. Here's to you, Pessimists. Shit happens, and you get it done anyway. Amen to that.

The Six Classes You Will Have In College

2008-03-31T15:16:00.001-07:00

Confused about all those different numbers, sections, and capitalized department abbreviations? Don't be. Screw distribution requirements. Here you have it readers, my great wisdom passed down to you as a reward for reading my Juicy Blog. And just because I love you, I've also added a handy "Where can I find one of these?" labelling system, to facilitate the use of this post into planning your own schedule.

The Bitch- When you look back on this semester, you will immidiatley think of this class and shudder. It has a daily, haunting prescence in your life that will only end after the final, and you're already planning on just how drunk you're going to get afterwards. This class meets most days of the week, and despite doing the daily assigned homework and putting countless hours into studying, you still just won't get it somehow. This class is guaranteed to drop your GPA by at least .5 points, and half of the class will have declared it pass/fail or changed their longterm academic plans to accomadate this before the semester is out. End up stuck in one of these? Don't worry, it's painful, but it will make you a better person.

Where Can I find one of these? Introductory foreign language, Core non-introductory math and science classes.

The Joke- Only in the hazy, theoretical world of academia could this actually be considered a "class" by the most technical definition. The daily homework (if there even is any) can easily be bullshitted in the first ten minutes of class, and is probably something hillarious like "keep a journal" or "color in how you feel today." Your final exam probably will resemble an arts and crafts project, and assigned reading (again, if there even is any) is few,far between, and never anything a staple can't hold together. So long as you show up and do a good job of making the teacher think you actually take the "material" seriously, this class has easy A written all over it.

Where Can I find one of these? Non core theatre department classes, Non core art department classes, Maybe some fuzzy interdepartmentals and non core/not intended for majors math classes.

The Class You Forget You Have- Whenever someone asks you about your schedule, you will quickly tell them all your other classes, and then wait five seconds with a puzzled look on your face before you remember what "the other one" is. This class meets only a few days a week, and it's not uncommon for you to temporarily forget your professor's name, the course number, or even where the room is. Even though this class has a pretty hefty reading list, you long ago realized that to even attempt to put a dent in it was futile, so you rely entirely on the notes you take in class (which, inorder to compensate for meeting so few times a week, lasts longer than anyone's attention span). This is OK, however, because you are only graded on 1-3 miniscule "response papers" on short readings, and 2 or 3 big papers that only require skimming the relevant reading for good quotes. There might be a take home final or large,research paper involved (temporarily causing the class's stress levels to approach "Bitch" proportions) but other wise, just show up and your'e solid. By the end of the semester you will have a decent grade, but you will have learned absolutely nothing.

Where can I find one of these? Non core/non intro Humanities and Government classes, Intro interdisciplinary studies classes.

The Good, Solid Class- In times of darkness, this class is your GPA's last glimmer of hope. This class meets often and has daily assignments, but miraculously, it is taught at a level that perfectly matches your competence so you can keep up almost effortlessly. You might even frequently volunteer to talk or do work on the board. This class is what education was supposed to be. Add in a good professor, and it's where Majors are made. So long as you don't totally blow off studying for the final, you're good to go, and you might actually learn a thing or two.

Where Can I find one of these? Lower level foriegn litterature classes, Introductory (100 level) science classes

The Lab- Even though the lab is only worth 1/4 the credit of a normal class at my institution, any experienced Science student knows it should be worth at least half. Yes, it only meets once a week for three hours. But these hours are spent in grave danger: avoiding being blinded by lasers, risking dangerous chemical burns, or downright disgusting (not to mention smelly) experiences. And all for the progress of science...Plus, for every class session, you will spend double that time writing up the weekly lab report, and another few hours trying to figure out the prelab, all while keeping your notebook neat, tidy, and toxin free. Playing around with little cars, chemicals, or dead animals may seem fun and carefree at first, but this class will quickly reach "Bitch"-like stress levels; Especially in that fabulous moment where you look at the clock, see the digits turn to ten or eleven at night, and then remember "Shit! I have lab tomorrow!"

Where can I find one of these? If you can't figure that out yet, you might not be suited for a collegiate education. Have you thought about technical school?

The Life-Defining Extra Curricular- Even though you will not get credit for this org/sport/activity, you will gladly devote just as much time (if not more) to it as you would any class, and sometimes it will stress you out just as much as well. Not only are you a member, you're on the board, and you're tight with everyone else who's involved. This will be your saving grace when you have to write resumes for internships over the summer, and you feel that, in some way, this activity actually helps define you as a person.

Where can I find one of these? (see last answer)

I Just Got Carded...at a Geek Convention

2008-03-28T20:04:00.000-07:00

I just recently lost my geek virginity. Sure, I was nervous, felt a little awkward and embarassed aboout it, but it was enjoyable. Really, a nice group of people, comfortable environment, cheap cost, cool craft tables, overall a good time. I was hoping the "character building panel" would focus more on novels and writing than RPGs, but hey, it was an enlightening experience.

But this I was NOT ready For, young and pure flower that I am. Maybe I should have started to have second thoughts when they had to check my ID at the door, or when my friend who also expressed interest in going was nowhere to be found. But I was phoneless and intruiged (and had already paid) So I figured I might aswell give it a shot. The panel title: "BDSM"

I entered a room with a few others, and a man was standing at the front with a striking resemblance to my highschool physics teacher. He proceeded to pass around films that he thought really epitomized the greatness of BDSM/dark fantasy in fantastic and horrific storylines, and I tried my best to not picture him getting off to the stuff. I knew I was in over my head when he asked the crowd "Only reveal it if you want, but can anyone here identify whether they are a top or bottom?"

The 'academic panel' also lead to: "has anyone ever gone to any local demonstrations?" and "Has anyone ever had a full leather mask placed on their head?"I don't know what was sketchier: the guy who seemed to have a little too much to say on the topic, or the fact that he went to a club about 20 minutes from where I live. Then again, there was also the woman with blue hair who looked to be in her fifties. When asked what word she most identified with BDSM, she said "ritualistic." Uh Huh...The panel was also populated by the somewhat large, dykey blond who facilated the RPG panel, a smelly guy with dog ears, a surprisingly sweet and innocent looking redhead, and about five other normal looking indiviuals, one of which is on the crew team. (Just in case you were wondering who would show up to a BDSM Panel in a geek convention at 11 on a friday night in a women's college.) I don't say this often in life, but Thank God I didn't actually know any of them.

Now it takes A LOT to make me feel awkward, especially if the topic is anything sexual. Really, almost anything goes and I'm an open book, but this still somehow managed to cross my threshold. It actually had me quitely doodling in the back, staring down at my desk and taking notes for the purpose of "escapism blogging." AKA: Get me the fuck out of here; the sooner I am writing about this than experiencing it, the better. This feeling quadrupled, of course, when we got onto the topic of "borderline nonconsentual" and when someone made the joke "telepaths don't use a safety word!" This was clearly not for n00bs. My general train of thought upon leaving a polite ten minutes early: Quick! Think of something pleasant and nonsexual: Puppies and Unicorns! Wait, not Unicorns, crap...Butterflies! Damn, that doesn't work either! Um...Kittens! Yes! Puppies and Kittens! Puppies and Kittens!

I need a chic flick and I need it now. Let's not tell too many people about this one, OK?

"Erotic, Soul Destroying Thoughts Engendered By Music"

2008-03-24T19:42:00.000-07:00

When one must spend half of their precious Spring Break writing about Art and the Afterlife, one must find ways to keep themselves amused throughout the struggle. That was one of them, this is the other:

Stiffler c. a few hundred AD? Anyway, I was also going to blog about how my orange vitamin water mysteriously turned pink, and even tasted pink, but when I went to photograph it, it came out as orange. I swear to god though, a mysterious change has occured, it is in fact pink. I was going to try to explain this using Beer's law and electron jumping related chemistry, but I just got C+ on a Chem exam I spent all effing weekend studying for, so you might want to ask someone else, as I am clearly not worthy to make such an analysis. (*cries*) Now what the fuck do I blog about?

PS: http://www.leasticoulddo.com/comic/20080324

The Age of the Emoticon: Then, Now, and Forever...

2008-03-18T21:29:00.000-07:00

I've come to realize that there are some things in life you can always count on. Ironically enough, I'm not only talking about the friendships that I value and have actually put a lot of energy and caring into, I'm also talking about the relationships that I, for the longest time and even up until now, completely took for granted and were always just sorta there. Now, of course is an all too familiair siutation: talking to random people on AIM in the wee hours of the morning during school vacation.

Who am I talking to? Well there's one guy who I'll nickname Droninator, who IMs me every now and then, I don't really know why. He spent a decent chunk of middle school hitting on me so maybe that has something to do with it, then again he also spent a decent chunk of middle school hitting on everyone, but we had our special time. Plus, last winter break we had a deep little feelings talk which ended with the usual winky smiley, and I have always had some juice-tastic sexual blackmail on him since, like, puberty. (Come to think of it, I have juice-tastic sexual blackmail on almost all of the guys I bonded with between the ages of 11 and 16...damn, I'm special. Not to mention a whore for feelings talks.) Then there's Moose from prep school who is just one of those solid people who always seems to be on the internet and willing talk about nothing in particular when ever you feel like it. I'm no longer talking to "california guy" from middle school thank God, but when boredom lurks, who knows... Actually no, who am I kidding, he was such a perv. Yuck. Anyway, there's also someone I'll now nickname as CherryPopp (sure you can figure out who that is), though he's only become a figure of interest in the past year, and has not yet earned solid random AIMer status. Give it time.

Finally, I'm going to shout out a new addition to this group, but by no means a new addition to life. ShortsInSnow (not sn, blogger code name) Liked me a lot in middle school, but it got awkward when I didn't return the favor. (Too dorky and into star trek....yeah, this when you all laugh like hyenas) Anyway, so I got bored procrastinating a paper about a week ago and decide to see what he's up to in life, and now we're all deeply re-bonded and peachy. (Mixed in with just the right amount of him hitting on me, of course). Once again, go middle school. Moving on in life= so overrated.

Conclusion of all this: You never know who's going to stick around in your life, and it may be the person you least expect or don't even notice now. Oh, and not to sound cocky, but I don't think I need to worry about not getting ass in this zipcode. Like, Ever.

The Week in Quotes- How Else to Kill Time Before April 15th?*

2008-03-12T17:24:00.000-07:00

Juicy: *uses mortar and pestle at science fair*
5th grader: Don't they use those to make drinks?
Juicy: No, not really. Not that many people know that they're standard in a bar, and you only really use them for Mohitos.

Juicy: So, do you think the pop rocks made his stomach explode?
5th grader: Ha, no. He probably just wanted to sue the company.

Indeed, the future of our nation is in good hands. Oh, and how could I forget:

"Just as many women [cheat on their spouses] as men, but they don't get caught, notes Moore. "Women are much better liars and they have a plan. They're much craftier." -AOL

Haha, So true. How else do you think we've learned to put up with the patriarchy for all these years. Oh and then of course there was:

Juicy: wOAH!!! *turns around* Oh hey what's up! Sorry, it's been awhile since someone pinched my ass.
Girl in French Class: Really? that sucks.
Juicy: Yeah, I know...
Girl: And that's pretty surprising too...
Juicy: Oh, why thank you.

"Resource Center for Gender and Sexuality- Weekdays: 8am-Midnight"

...Why? Did I mention there's a paper plate on the door that's shaped like a rooster? (*coughcough*Cock*coughcough*)

Finally:

Juicy: "Hey, if you do this summer program you could stay at my place for like a month."
Friend: "OK."
(And thus Juicy's summer plans were revolutionized...in about 2 hours)

Blogger has parties? We are so going...

*It ain't no Etch-A-Sketch. That's one doodle that can't be undid, homeskillet!

Blogging: Mmm Mmm...Good

2008-03-07T00:14:00.000-08:00

So It's pretty much been the shittiest mosy dysfunctional week ever (for this month). It's like this entire week has just blurred into one soupy continuum of lame procrastination vs productivity, all dissolved in isolation with intermittent sleeping at the most bizarre and inconveniant hours imaginable. And sadly, from the look of things, it won't be over until the middle of next week, weekend included. I might be sounding a little too JVish here, but seriously, this lifestyle is bad for the soul. Correction-muderous for the soul.

But Blogging is good for the soul, so I'm going to take a break here to talk about one of my favorite blog topics: [just guess] (If you're getting sick of these, please let me know. They're not gonna stop, but I'm curious)

People are very much like protons. (Here of course, I'm referring to hydrogen nuclei in hydrocarbons) For any given hydrogen in a compound, there are hydrogens that are chemically equivalent, and others that are not. When two non-equivalent hydrogens get too close (say, bonded to adjacent carbons) they affect each others magnetic fields in a phenomena known as "Spin-Spin Coupling." Essentially, because the protons have different magnetic properties, they end up splitting each others' signals. These two protons are referred to as "Coupled Protons," and for every neighboring proton that's actually equivalent to one of these protons, the more the signal becomes split.

They say opposites attract, so lets look at a pair of coupled protons like a pair of coupled people. When two people are a little extra interested in one another, it's easy enough for them to literally split each others signals. For example, one party might become shy, so the other party mistakes this for a total lack of interest, or even dislike. In another case, one party could really put an effort into getting the other party's attention, but the other party could just interpret this as an inherent part of that person's personality, or just being friendly. If equivalent protons are like peoples' friends, the analogy still holds. The more friends a person goes to inorder to gain insight on their problems, the more possibilities they come up with for what a signal actually was intended to mean. After the friend group has been consulted, one often finds oneself even more puzzled, now with multiple interpretations at hand. (Unlike real multiplicity, they usually don't neatly follow Pascals Triangle, but you get the idea. I suppose that would just make life too easy.)

But equivalent protons never split each others' signals. So here's the issue: what happens when two friends, once considered equivalent protons by every means, are attracted to each other? Does the analogy still hold? Are they forever blessed with perfect fluency in each others signals? Or perhaps, through some bizarre physical phenomena, the chemistry between them is strong enough to cause a reaction of sorts, which ends up changing one's equivalency, causing problems, and bringing us back to square one. And if something like that could happen, there's always the question of entropy. That is, once this equivalency changing reaction has occured, can the two protons ever really go back to being perfectly equivalent friends?

Seriously, who needs Psychoanalysis when you have NMR....

Confessions of a Rankings Junkie

2008-03-05T15:42:00.000-08:00

http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200109/flanagan

It's called "Confessions of a College Councilor" and definitley worth the read. I can't really remember how I came across it, but it's pretty thought provoking, and brought up a lot of good old application frenzy nostalgia.

It gives some interesting perspective on college applications, and just what makes some schools more appealing than others (Yes, parents want the best for their kids, but a lot of them also want to brag about their children's days at Princeton like it's a country club. And if education is so important, state schools often have five times the number of truly well qualified professors than flashy places like Duke or Yale.) It also points out how colleges sell themselves, trying to get as many applications as they can soley so they can reject them just to look more prestigious. (Jerks) There was something else odd about reading it too. The paper referenced and criticized a lot of big name institutions, especially a certain neighbour of mine. You'd think that I would revere this institution, idolize it and be slightly fascinated by it's students who found a way passed its daunting admissions odds. Nope, not really. I've been there, it's sorta the same. (I've also heard they're suckers for ED apps, maybe that explains it)

Hitting more close to home, it talks about a book written by a Yale student who fell in love with the campus on one visit after five minutes, and then worked his as off like no other to get in. (Hmm...sound familiar? Though the infatuation only took about that long, I had known the place since I could walk.) That's another thing colleges seem to really be cashing in on these days- a sortof legitimate romantic attachment hormonally driven teens develop with their top choice. Student faculty ratios and excellent facilities are rarely our real top reason for choosing a college, they're just side bars we can add in to reassure ourselves that we're making a responsible, grown up decision. Oh no, It's "the feel." It's being able to picture yourself on the campus enjoying happy (often overrated, if you ask me) collegiate life. In short, they're selling the dream.

I know about this better than anyone, because I fell for it hook line and sinker. I put up with a prep school that I (at the time) detested, I became an overacheiving, perky, freaked out caffiene addict, I did everything I could, and I still didn't get the thick envelope. Should I be ashamed, then? That I let myself be played by an industry? That I was one in a sea of thousands of brighteyed, hardworking hopefuls who just really, inexplicably wanted to go to Harvard or Brown? Should I have been more savvy than the rest of society and their psycho-obsessive parents? I suppose it's too late for that. Hey, I wanted something, I went for it best I could, there's no shame in that. No one's never a fool. (Though maybe that extra essay was a mistake...) Maybe it's because it's the only I've actually wanted the same thing as a certain unnamed parent, for essentially just the same silly reasons I often criticize him for using with everything else. OK, maybe I should be at least a little embarassed.

As you might have guessed, I didn't get into my top choice college. I love where I am now, and on a recent visit to a certain unnamed Cambridge instituiton I'm hella glad I didn't get in, But I'm still sorta bitter. When I recieved my acceptance to the school I'm at now I opened the package, unfolded the letter half way to glimpse at the first word, then threw it on my bed with the rest of my crap before going to eat lunch. Enthralling moment, really. I actually feel more like I was deprived of that awesome moment everyone should have than heartbroken by the actual rejection letters themselves. (Which, oddly enough, didn't bother me at all last March, but will probably become the major focus of a shrink session when I'm 35.)

Oh Now I remember why I had this all on my mind today. I was in the Career Development Office watching them tear my beautiful sappling of a resume to shreds, when I eyed a "Pre Law" magazine and picked it up. I read that though 80,000 students will apply to Law School in the US, only about 40,000 will get in. Anywhere. I was just entering a mild panic mode and wondering how to incorporate LSAT studying into my sophomore routine when I thought to myself "Oh Crap, are we seriously going through this again?"

Juicy is: too cool for the South couch!

2008-03-01T12:06:00.000-08:00

Just as Adam and Eve before them, there comes a time in everyone's life when they realize that they have too much self respect to submit themselves to conditions that they previously deemed bearable. Enter the room of any non-OCD college student, and you will surely find month old pizza boxes, moldy utensils, bacteria ridden cups and cans, and a smelly pile of laundry to rival the Sears tower. All of these living conditions are acceptable to us now, but probably wouldn't fly for anyone above the age of 28. Today I had a similar such epiphany. Yes, this is a prime time for adventerous wanderings into the night, but I don't know how much longer I can (soberly) take sleeping on a common room couch, out in the open, subject to the judgemental glances of any random passerby. (that is, of course, assuming I can get to sleep, what with the snowplow, random generator noises, and lights that don't turn off.) And even if I have the privellege of sleeping in the privacy of someone's room, there's something sortof unsettling about waking up on the floor of a friend of a friend of a friend's place, no matter how many times you've done it. (Especially the ones you've only known for about 5 hours.) I must admit this is a bit of a shock to me, as I surely thought I had at least 3 years of this left, but apparently not. Or at least not regularly and sober. (Yes, drunk is another thing. For that I figure I have at least until my mid 20s.) Till then, lesson learned: if theres nothing happenning, you might as well just go home. And only in rare conditions will you allow yourself to be allured to stay by the ultimate evil. (That, of course, is food delivery until 4am. Spoiled fuckers.)

*sigh* another tiny bit of childhood, lost forever....

Conquoring The Great Divide (The Footnotes Are Priceless)

2008-02-28T00:51:00.000-08:00

Who said the Humanities and Sciences were so different anyways? You know, I think they were deeply mislead. In fact, I am currently reporting to you live from my room at around 4am where I can assert to you that I am, in the great style of good English students everywhere, completely bullshitting a lab report. Yes, slinging the old bull for dear life as far as it will go. Maybe this is all substantiated, maybe not, but what do we really know about science anyway? Yeah we can prove theories with numbers and experiments but we never actually get to see it (at least at the 200 level). There is absolutley no reason why Unknown sample E can't be whatever I assert it to be. Further more, who said you needed multiple chromatograms anyway? I have one, it's pretty. In fact, it's symbolic of my monogamous relationship with the subject (at least as far as it knows). The fact that it took me two tries to get a good strip parallels my own personal development as a Chemist: I had to take two chemistry classes to realize how much I enjoy the subject. The strip itself also happenns to be part of a process abbreviated as TLC, which is an allusion to the common saying "TLC" as in "Tender Love and Care" which is what Chemistry and I need to give each other if our relationship is going to suceed. To add a third layer of meaning, it is also the name of a pop group who wrote a song about waterfalls. What better way to bring both Chemistry, love, and chemsexuality into the mainstream than hydrogen bonding and fluid dynamics?*

Yes, if all else fails, I will turn that in. (after you've cited CVS.com more than two times, I don't think you can really stoop much lower...)

*Wow, I didn't even do that on purpose....

One Of Those Mornings

2008-02-25T03:25:00.000-08:00

I walk in to my room to grab the remains of my homework, jealous of my comfortably dozing roomate illuminated by the earliest of pink pre-dawn light. I didn't actually have that much to do, but there was the sleeping late, then the oscars, then the me losing my concentration around 2am, but most of all, there were the documentaries...

heres part 1, the rest is on you tube too...
http://youtube.com/watch?v=UIhTXQfiENI

9/11- a corporate conspiracy? Could it have been prevented? This documentary was actually pretty intruiging, then again that comes with the nature of the material. I always thought there was something odd about the footage: plane crashes into tower, tower remains standing, then proceeds to crash floor by floor to the ground. If it was the velocity of the plane that caused such a mass of troubles in the buidling, wouldnt it act more like a domino falling down sideways than crashing downwards? The theory given, of course, is that the steel was so overheated that it either bent or broke, allowing the building to implode in on itself. This documentary claims that the steel was tested to temperatures well over those the fire could have maximally burned to in the building, (and wouldnt this have happenned immidiatley with no pause? wouldnt heat only subtract with time?) along with mentioning some bizarre construction occuring about a week before the attacks, and the random explosion building 7. Overall it was a very convincing documentary, at least until the end when they were like "come down the rabbit hole, welcome to the new wave, its OK..." Creepers. Way to kill a quality program, plus the website screams "send us money." And there are some other questions too- like if it was a corporate demolition, why even bother with planes in the first place? if a jet plane couldn't get that hot, what's to say chemical explosives could? Anyway, they make some good points, and I consider it my responsibility to spread the word just in case they are on to something. (which it seems like they might be) I bet all the fishy things are just people being bought off from AlQaeda. I doubt the US govt's intention is to go that far for a war and authortarian shits and giggles, but who knows. It's worth a peek.

The second one wasn't so mindblowing so no link. It was pretty much everything we already know about how the music industry is comprised of profit driven corporate robber barons who will only sign artists who would rather sell alot quickly than invest in quality acts that could do well with the same amount of pushing but who won't get the support simply because they don't fit the mainstream bracket of what corporations know will sell. (Yes, OSK, I was thinking of you)They also went on to explain (and essentially criticize) how large corporations will group together to promote an artists through every company under its umbrella. (eg. record label does record, artist promoted in partner subsidiary magazine, sell their cd at correlated chain store, etc) Honestly, I don't have a huge ethical problem with this. People wouldn't develop "mainstream only" music if people didn't like it. People are easily bought idiots with poor taste, but essentially the companies are really just profiting off of making them happy. It's a win-win situation between the seller and the consumer. Furthermore, using a profitible aspect of one of your companies to increase the value of your other companies or only doing buisness with artists you know will be successful isn't ethically wrong by any standard, it's good buisness. If you want to be into music because you like the art form and want to take risks, sign with an indie label and be happy with a small cult following. If you wanna be a big star, dress like P Diddy, and be on TRL, sell your creative soul to the devil. The idea of being famous is a corporate entity within itself- not a hard core indie one. You can't really have both, at least not in the same way. It's capitalism, we have a choice. If Indie labels didn't exist that would be another story, but they do, embrace their awesomeness and stop complaining just because the rest of the world hasn't caught on yet. They're also complaining about TV commercials using music. Dude, it's good advertising for both the product and the song simultanously. What's not to love? I know if you're an artist you don't wan't to forever be "the song on the [insert brand here] commercial" but it's a great gateway, and if you're any good you'll out grow your commercial reputation soon enough. I personally consider commercials a prime way to hear good songs. Maybe I am a corporate dominated Zombie, but hey at least my music makes me happy.

But they did make one point- even big names get treated like crap from a mainstream label. Did you know that a band on average has to sell 300,000 records just to break even after what they owe their label/producer from doing a record and video? let alone make a profit...OK, the guilt got me, I'm never illegally downloading ever again. It's also watching things like that that make me incredibly proud to live in the day and age that we do (despite my musical bitching and complaining) because there are now actually a bunch of internet record labels helping lesser known artists promote themselves. Yay technology! Yay globalization! Yay equal-footing on a world-wide platform! Yay Friedman! Yay blogosphere! I am excited to see what the future holds, especially considering that the "in" thing now is really alternative and bazarre stuff (then again, that might just be because I go to a women's college in Mass)

wohooo post 111. Oh, and in the style of Gavrich, I was listening to this song earlier today and couldn't help but add it in:

Hooker with a Penis by Tool

I met a boy wearing vans,
501 s, and a Dope beastie t, nipple rings, and
New tattoos that claimed that he
Was ogt, From 92, The first EP.
And in between sips of coke
He told me that he thought
We were sellin out,
Layin down,
Suckin up
To the man.

Well now Ive got some Advice for you, little buddy.
Before you point the finger You should know that Im the man,
And if Im the man, Then youre the man, and Hes the man as well
so you can Point that fuckin finger up your ass.

All you know about me is what Ive sold you,
Dumb fuck. I sold out long before you ever heard my name.
I sold my soul to make a record, Dip shit, And you bought one.
So Ive got some Advice for you, little buddy.
Before you point your finger You should know that Im the man,
If Im the fuckin man Then youre the fuckin man as well
So you can point that fuckin finger up your ass.

All you read and Wear or see and Hear on tv
Is a productBegging for yourFatass dirtyDollar
So...shut up and Buy my new record
Send more money Fuck you, buddy.

Mailbox Usage: 69%

2008-02-22T12:07:00.000-08:00

Ever since I started doing work at the library, I got into the habit of taking little study breaks on the public-use computers in the foyer. After about a month of doing this, I realized that the same guy (old, balding, never takes off his coat, fanny pack, odd strap around the back of his eyeglasses) is on the same computer all the time. I'm assuming he doesn't actually have any affiliation to the school, because if he did he could just log-in on a computer in the lab like everyone else does when they're planning on being online for hours on end, as he often is. This didn't really seem too odd to me until finals week. Usually the library closes at 12, but during finals week it's open till 2 AM. Yes ladies and gents, 1:30 AM on a weeknight, and he's still there. What is his job exactly? Lord knows. What's even wierder is that every time I look over his shoulder, he's always reading something in Russian. Now I don't actually have a problem with random people using my college's computers (even if they might be commies) so long as another student doesn't need one, but last night, he crossed the line.

You see, the most notorious aspect of this man is this: he wreaks. I'm not just talking about post-gym bad BO, oh no, this is a legitimate stench. Perhaps he's one of those people that needs to carry around a bag to pee in or wears diapers or something? I am almost tempted to get a little closer simply because it is by far the most pungent smell I have ever encountered on another human being in my entire life. That is, until I remember it's friggen gross. How did he cross the line exactly? Well, usually I only have to bear light whiffs of this perfume if I happen to be using the adjacent computer, but last night it was too much. By some extension of his super human powers of aromatic radiation, I could not only smell it as I walked by him, but I had to walk down another computer or two, across the main lobby, and then use the computers in the other half of the foyer inorder to evade the stench. Really, if you're going to mooch off of facilities that you in all probability don't pay for at least be subtle about it. And just when I thought that he couldn't have out done himself, it gets worse. I'm leaving the library at 1 AM (yay, extended hours this semsester! I'm so lame...) after they've kicked most other people out (including our friend) and the room still smelled. Ouch.

How does he do it?!?