On a related note… Without the familiarity I have, “Grand Junction” sounds like the urban California city and “Mountain View” sounds like the small valley town next to the Rockies

After being spurned by their would-be lover Yahoo, Microsoft attempted to woo the coy bird. Unfortunately, Microsoft, though admittedly rich and powerful, struggles to set the romantic mood. Looking very much like their personification in the Mac switcher ads, Microsoft comes on a little too strong to be using words like “embrace” and “consummate”. Some will accuse me of cherry picking quotes, but these are actual excerpts from Microsoft’s response to Yahoo’s demure refusal to get hitched. As is standard practice in the press, I’ve used “…” to condense their statements (only when necessary, of course)… (poetry quotery best read aloud, beatnik style).

—

“It is unfortunate that Yahoo! has not embraced our full … offering”
“Base… number two … we have”
“Base… number two … does not … provide…unity”
“Yahoo! has no…ring”
“and … so… Microsoft… will … sing”
“our … proposal … we … will …sing”
“…”
“Yahoo! … our … fair …pet…!”
“we are confident”
“we are … great”
“we are … a compelling number two”
“we are … moving”
“moving forward…!”
“we are … moving … to pursue”
“Yahoo! … Yahoo! … Yahoo!”
“we are … moving … to … the right”
“and … we have … the right … steps”
“we are … moving … in”
“easing… in”
“Yahoo! … is … the best”
“It is … increasingly exciting … becoming better positioned to…”
“Yahoo! … Yahoo! … Yahoo!”
“we are … moving … to consummate”
“moving forward … to consummate”
“for… that … embrace…, that … exciting … position…”
“o!”

Some chilling imagery from a brave reporter for NBC, who is apparently embedded with an anti-squirrel squadron in Cuesta park. But to get this close, you have to wonder - is the reporter a squirrel sympathizer? Might the press actually be aiding the squirrels in their quest to dominate our media and disrupt our normal lives? I mean, I doubt you’d see this kind of “cute” squirrel footage on Fox news.

 

Back in college I wrote a short story involving squirrels for my creative writing class. We peer reviewed each others’ stories, and mine was described alternately as hilarious, disturbing, or both. Well, I’d like to add another description - prescient. Squirrels are making an initial volley of attacks, it seems. A squirrel in a Mountain View park jumped a 4 year old boy, latching on and biting him even as he dropped to the ground and rolled. From the first recent news story:

“As for Andrew, he’s still trying to make sense of the assault. He
declared he’s never going into a park with trees ever again, his
mother said, and he keeps telling everyone the squirrel was trying to
eat him.”

Well, the humans decided to strike back, placing traps and promising to humanely euthanize any squirrels caught (personally, I think they should make an example of squirrels caught, perhaps by hanging them by their tails and shaving them, in full view of the other squirrels). Will the supposedly greater brainpower possessed by the biped combatants ensure victory? There are doubters even among their own ranks. From a later story:

“The squirrels will be back,'’ South Bay wildlife rehabilitator Norma
Campbell said. “For every one you take out, two more will come
in….”

Hide your children.

At Good Samaritan hospital, they have a robot slave who does the bidding of the hospital masters. The sign on the robot makes for little deterrent to curious hospital-goers, in my opinion.

I made a bit of a change, and I think my version would be more effective at keeping people out of the elevator with the robot:

New, improved robot signage

Update: Apparently, sometime in the last several months, I’ve become what’s known as an “adult.” I’m taking this accusation very seriously - no one consulted me about this new role, and frankly, I’m getting a little annoyed. Whereas before, when it was time to eat, someone made food (logical), now no one does. I think, as an “adult”, I’m expected to do this. I have been experimenting with roots and grubs, but haven’t found much that is even remotely edible - I’ll let you know if I do. Another thing that has happened is this place I now have to go to every day; called “work,” it is unfortunately very appropriately named. Whereas other places you could go every day (arcades, malls) might have many games and amusements, my “work” has only four - darts, pingpong, pool, and foosball. I wish I could say the horror stopped there. Unfortunately, add the following to the list of “responsibilities” (a dirty word I hear used a lot in this treacherous adult world): washing clothes, washing dishes, washing car, washing house, washing self, paying landlord, paying cable co., paying phone co., paying mechanic, paying doctor, paying dentist, paying piano tuna (I still don’t know why we need a piano tuna, and why it costs $75), paying professional clown, paying for gas, paying for food, paying for respect, paying for money. I’m sure I left something off the list, but suffice to say, I’m left wondering why people choose this “adult” thing over kidhood.

Of course, it’s not all bad. I’ve discovered recently that, perhaps due to a paperwork mixup, they’re actually paying me on a fairly regular schedule at that work place. I’m trying to figure out if the pay goes up as I improve at pool. Until this changes, it’s much better than my previous work-like thing, “school” (documented in previous chronicles). There, I had to pay them a great deal to be allowed to do work. Furthermore, my living conditions have improved - instead of a cramped one room double, I am now in a much larger single! And it’s in a nice house with hardwood floors and chandeliers and fireplaces and marble, surrounded by a desolate, weeded wasteland. And yet I still get to live with my friends. So, things aren’t so bad. I was just reading my black entry when I was really sad, and realized that soon after that, all of the “very bad things” that were mentioned cleared up and I had a fantastic rest of the summer. So, next time you’re down, remember the good things in your life, like your family and friends and professional clown.

I purchased a “DDR” game and mat a couple days ago. If you don’t know, DDR (standing for Dance Dance Revolution) is a very popular arcade and home video game in which you step on arrows in time to scrolling arrows on the screen, along to club style music. Unfortunately, we aren’t to the stage yet where we look like we’re “dancing”, per se, so much as rhythmically stomping and hopping, arms held stiff for balance. Think soldiers marching barefoot on hot sand with bad wedgies. I’ll steal a pic from Tim and put it here so you can share in Matt and I’s joy.

Quote of the week:

Anonymous friend: well, as speaking from myself I have been dateless

I won’t say that’s bad grammar, because as speaking from myself too I have been dateless, and bad date luck from it might be of making fun to that grammar.

Phew, I must have fallen asleep there… I just finished my 11.21.99 entry, and.. What time is it? OH my God! I didn’t just fall asleep for 8 months. Yes, you did. Whoa. Well, let’s get started then, shall we?

Apparently while I was asleep, I got a job at Homestead.com. It seems like it will be very fun. Homestead makes it very easy to build elegant, professional websites like this: “Best Site for Teens”. I have business cards. They say “Brad Bozarth, Software Development Team.” And I hear, that if played during a “Magic” role playing card game, it will cause all opposing female cards to swoon, rendering them useless for the duration of the round. Only half of the opposing male cards will swoon.

I really like having conversations with myself. Why is that? Well, I suppose because I can get a completely understanding party who will always listen and not hit me. But doesn’t that render the conversation meaningless? I mean, someone who always agrees with you and won’t hit you is a boring person. Hey, maybe you’re just jealous? Have you tried it? No, I’m not an idiot like you. Why are you lying to him? You know we talk all the time! Shut up! I don’t need you right now! Ah ha! Call me an idiot will you? You’re not only an idiot, you’re a hypocrite! You can both step into traffic, you spineless technoweenies. That’s it, you’re dead. Agreed, jump ‘im. [SMACK!] [WHACK!] [THUD]. Ow! Ow! Ow!

OK, turn off the internal mono, er dia, er.. trialog, before we kill myselves. Hmm… So, I was thinking, and it occurred to me that not everyone will enjoy things I’ve written thusfar in the Chronicles. So, I would like to write something that everyone will like. I mean everyone. Thus, the next paragraph will appeal to you. Whether you are Janet Reno or Bill Gates, Chuck D or Lars Ulrich, Superman or Lex Luthor, an intelligent being or a “Scary Movie” fan… You’ll like it.

Ok, so now you get to experience THIS CONTENT HAS BEEN CENSORED BY THE U.N., AS PER INTERNATIONAL TREATY #552093A. PLEASE FORMAT YOUR HARD DRIVE AND REBOOT YOUR COMPUTER. OR YOU WILL BE SHOT. FOUR TIMES. WHILE LISTENING TO “THE WORLD’S WORST POLKA.” WE’RE THE U.N. … WE CAN DO THIS SORT OF THING. WE ONCE RENAMED A COUNTRY TO “SUCKLAND”, YOU DON’T THINK WE CAN SHOOT YOU?

Well, wasn’t that great? I don’t want to bring down Stanford’s servers, though, so I’ll refrain from writing universally appealing material from
now on. After all, someone’s got to offend people, right? How about Kathie Lee Gifford? I’ll pick on her. She is soooooooo THIS IS KATHY LEE GIFFORD. LEAVE THIS WEBSITE OR I WILL SEND YOUR SOUL DIRECTLY TO HELL. AND IF I HEAR ONE MORE “CODY” JOKE I WILL PERSONALLY ANNIHILATE THE UNIVERSE. NO QUESTIONS ASKED.

I was just thinking, I’m so glad we live in a free country where I can say anything without being THIS IS THE BACKSTREET BOYS. WE ARE SICK AND TIRED OF EVERY ONE MAKING FUN OF US. WE ARE TALENTED ARTISTS, OK!? OK, BYE BYE BYE.

Ok, you’ve read enough for today, it’s time for you to eat.

Quote of the week, seen on a homestead discussion board:

There is a point where you can make things so easy they become hard.

Take, for instance, subatomic physics. Why couldn’t they have stopped making it easier and easier? What’s next? Breathing? STOP MAKING THINGS EASIER!

Well, the one year anniversary of the Chronicles has come and gone, without even it’s creator’s knowledge. It hasn’t quite been the same since I killed him and assumed his identity. My junkie life is far behind, replaced by the rigors of stanford. His rigorous life is far behind, replaced by the rigors of death.

I had a very weird dream the other night. A lot of them actually, I think because I hadn’t slept much thanks to CS145 homework, and I needed an REM fix. I dreamt that a girl I knew was a car dealer. She had several lots, and one of her showrooms was in her dorm. She nudged me and told me that “it was real easy to get used cars, since she dealt in new cars too.” She was implying something illegal, but I really don’t know what. She also apparently dealt in furniture, because there was a bunch of furniture for sale in the dorm as well, new and used. One of the guys involved in the business told me it was ironic that their favorite piece of furniture was found in a dumpster. It didn’t seem all that ironic to me. It was a table, and on it, people were playing a game using strange beveled obsdian pieces… It was a game that I had never seen before, and had no clue how to play. What’re you thinkin’, brain!?

On the topic of randomly firing neurons, I was up until 5 the other day working on a problem set, when I began to slip in and out of sleep. Well, strange voices (the beginnings of dreams??) would very clearly present themselves to me. They seemed perfectly reasonable until I woke up fully each time, and so I decided to write them down for posterity. Here is what was scrawled in my notebook the next day…

Begin

You are such a dog!
Rad dog.
(to a catchy jingle): Harder in life as a rad, rad dah-ahg.

(thick german accent): Rack ‘em up!

The key to everything is T-Bone.
(in response, pointing at self): Oh yeah? Who’s got loose beads?

At the end of a study room, does it not reek of blood?

If it’s sexually explicit, it’s supposed to be mental, Christy! (I think Christy was a sitcom writer)

Entire box?! It was red, like a raspberry…

Aye. Zein fly. Zey go poo poo.

I saw you. Weenies signed up! I know.

Are you sure? Cause I got one fine kid that I’d really like to hear from that.

End

There you have it. My psyche laid bare. Not really.

Well, hopefully this will make a favorable impression on employers… I’ve found that I do my best in hard classes, and pretty much kill myself in easier classes. The fairly straightforward ones that just need consistent time spent - not doing well. The ones that require a lot of real work and thought and tricky problem solving - much better. I don’t think this would necessarily extend indefinitely. Like, I don’t think I’d really screw up at my job, flipping burgers, while proving Einstein wrong after work. At least, not every day.

CS145 answer of the week:

SELECT state_of_consciousness
FROM ENUM {waking, sleeping}
WHERE NOT databases = on.mymind AND therefore.iamhappy

(I’ll get 0 points for that one, but at least I’ll feel “Ha gotcha”)
(Update, actually, he wrote “+1 for humor”. HA! Ha HA! Ha HA ha!)

I occasionally jot down ideas to remember for the next chronicle. Unfortunately, sometimes these notes give me no clue to what I was orignially thinking. I’m sure the following ideas were going to be extrordinarily funny, but you’ll just have to enjoy them in raw form, because I really don’t know what the heck my idea was:

Reptar, airplane, I had to laugh, said bite head off
Then I asked if they give blanks out to anyone, and…

Ha ha! Hmmm. Anyway, lately, I can’t get my mind off Tim. Tim Rueter. He is the man. So hot. So sculpted. The preceeding message is a paid advertisement for Tim Rueter, Inc., and does not necessarily reflect the views of the author or editor of the Chronicles.

By the way, I am now taking applications for “product placement” in the Chronicles. For a mere $50, I will inconspicuously pitch anything you want, much like the subtle placement of products in movies. No one will even realize they are being affected by my words of praise, invisible as they will be in the surrounding anecdotes. Email productplacement@yumbrad.com for more info.

A funny thing happened the other day. I was really thirsty, and I really didn’t know what to do, because the kitchen is so far away. I looked in my fridge, and there was an ice-cold, delicious Sprite. Ha ha ha! “This will make a good story,” I thought, and boy was I right. I really haven’t been the same since I drank Sprite. I have gained the admiration of my peers, and am now healthier and happier. Funny, huh? When you really think about it, image is nothing, isn’t it? Thirst is everything!

I went to the post office to pick up a package my parents sent me. You see, I forgot, ahh, quite a few pairs of underwear at home. That’s all. I can imagine if there were pictures of what we were all waiting for in that hour long line above our heads.. Pan along the line: CD’s, boyfriend she’s writing, passport forms, … underwear. Underwear, floating above my head. I love that song.

Well, I have more evidence that Gerhard Casper is evil. Prajna and I were riding along the street in front of the quad, and boom! Who jumps out in front of us to try and throw me off balance and into a fatal fall, but … Gerhard Casper. Ok, he didn’t exactly jump, but he was walking very quickly with his hands carelessly folded behind his back, head carelessly down, carelessly not watching for oncoming traffic. I know what you’re thinking, but NO, it wasn’t an accident - he kept looking back over his shoulder to see if his assasination attempt was successful! And later, he walked by my house! Look out folks, Casper’s not just a friendly ghost anymore. He’s a university president/professional killer out to get me. See my Gerhard enemy page for more info, including evidence of his supernatural evil powers.

Saturday, October 16th marked the dawn of a new day in my development. A whole new realm, a higher tier, an evolutionary leap in my ability to attack whatever life throws at me. In this case, life (well, In’n'Out, same thing), threw a 6 by 6 at me. A 6×6, for the uneducated, is 6 patties and 6 slices of cheese, with the usual two buns and fixings (I have pictures, I’ll post ‘em soon). It was, basically, the beef equivalent of heaven. I also had fries, three Dr. Peppers, and a little later, two scoops of ice cream and a slice of cake. Thanks to the In’N'Out nutrition guide, I compliled some approximate statistics of this meal:
Calories - ~2500
Fat - ~150 grams (230% daily value)
Cows that had to die - ~2
Sodium - ~4000 mg
Net weight - ~1 kilogram
Chickens that had to die - ~0
Why? - HAMburger, dummy
But isn’t ham pig meat? - Shut up
You’re an idio… - Do you want to die?
*Based on a 2,000 calorie diet

Quote of the week:

Amy: It’s like DNA. You could eat a piece of pizza, and grow a baby.

Remember how Star Wars Episode 5 ended? It was dark and dismal, with the empire dominating. But it sure made you want to see the next one, because you knew things must get better… Thus, my three month absence after my last chronicle. Just think of me as Pricess Leia. Wait, no… Don’t think of me like that, please.

A squirrel just fell from the sky outside my window. It made a loud “thump” sound on the grass, then scurried off, apparently unhurt. I think that the military should look into this. I see two possible applications of squirrel technology:

1. Breed killer “war” squirrels, with head mounted guns, and very sharp teeth. These could be dropped by the thousands from airplanes into enemy territory, without the complications of tiny parachutes.

2. Genetically engineer human solidiers with the squirrel genes that enable large drop survival. Amend constitution to make referencing them as “squirrel man/woman” or “that squirrel creature” illegal.

In a related field, I foresee the calming, rhythmic sounds of “squirrel drop” music to boom in popularity. “Thump, Thump… Thumpthump!”

I have obtained evidence that Gerhard Casper is involved in scandalous affairs.. For those of you who don’t know, Casper is the so-called president of this so-called university. But I know what he really is: A hula dancer. Don’t believe me? Take a look at these photos… I will be on the lookout for more evidence of his base behavior.

Well, so much happened over the summer, I really don’t think I can do it justice here… I worked at ACE computer camp, which was a blast, despite ACE being an evil, greedy, cliche of manipulative, corporate american money vacuums. Let’s just say ACE was fun, and I’ve now tried about 10 jamba juice flavors.

Driving my truck home I almost died. Long story, but one of my wheels came off except for one nut, evidently because someone had tried to steal it. I nearly wrecked, ending up stranded beside the road. I eventually got a tow truck called, and after we had picked up my truck we started driving to the nearest tire store, in Delano California. I was a little shaken up, but the hispanic tow truck driver put me at ease: “Ya know, where we’re goeeng.. There are no white people.”
    ”Heheh, I guess I’ll raise the population to one, eh?” (I was trying to look unaffected).
    ”Yeah heh. You know why? The mexicans found out white people taste like cheeken! Ha ha ha ha…” In spite of this, he was quite nice, and so were the wheel guys. He was right though, I was the only white guy in the vicinity.

I helped somebody jump start their car in a town a little further on, but the whole wheel stealing thing had me wary… After I drove on, a few miles down the interstate I stopped because my hood seemed loose. I tried to shut it, but for some reason couldn’t even open it! I started imagining the worst, that they sabotaged me somehow, and installed a tracking device, when I looked down and there was a pin prick in my finger where I was trying to use the hood opener, with a spot of blood forming. Argh! Perhaps they put a little poison pin on the opener! I proceeded to suck out the “poison,” and swallowed it (duh, that was smart, Bond). Then I realized that I just needed to push on the hood, and it caught - then I could open and close it.

Well, it seemed those two events weren’t enough for one trip. A few hours later, I take an exit and pull into an abandoned lot, where some hispanic guys are working on putting a spare on their car. I wanted to get some pictures of this cool column of rain in front of the sunset. I prepare to take some pictures, and one of the guys walks over to me..

    ”Sorry we’re on your property - we had a blow out..” My property?
    ”Heh, ummm.. I’m just stopping to take some pictures - not my property.”
    ”Oh, ok.. That’s cool, huh? That’s a damn big tornado, huh? That’s a huge tornado!” I look at the column of rain.
    ”Yeah, that sure is a big tornado.” He talks to me about the “tornado” and where he’s going, and where I’m going, and eventually writes down his name and phone number..
    ”In case you ever need any help in vegas, you understand that,” pointing to the paper.
    ”Carlos,” I say.
    ”Yeah. You wanna follow us back?”
    ”No… That’s all right.. I think I’m gonna go now.”
    ”Ok, remember - Carlos!”
    ”Riiight.. Thanks!”

The one other thing that really sticks out in my mind is driving for a few hours back in Colorado to pick up a friend. Stuck behind… A dead horse, strapped to a flatbed. Quite stiff, too. I know, I know, you’re jealous, but maybe it’ll happen to you someday. I was also attacked by one of those automatic seatbelts on that trip. Nearly took my head off. Shook me up so bad, that later when I spilled my fries thanks to the sudden stop of Steve, the driver, I said “Jeez, ya think I meant to throw all my throws on the floor!?!?” I was trying to be mad, but it’s hard when you say something that stupid. So give me a hand, when you’re at McDonald’s next time, ask for a Super-Size Throws. And if you work fast food, please update your schpiel to “Would you like some throws with that?”

And now, it’s time to start making new chronicle material, every day. Hopefully junior year will produce some good ‘uns. Check back. (Oh check out my other sections occasionally too, filling them out now that I have a scanner.)

Quote of the summer:

Becca, upon staring somewhat blankly at a picture of the lead actress in The Blair Witch Project:

Annoying girl.. Annoying girl. Blair witch project. Annoying girl.

Depressed.

Why? Why why why? Why have very bad things been consistently assailing me for the last two weeks? ARGH! I don’t think I can even recall all of them, but it has certainly culminated today. No, I shouldn’t say that. One thing I’ve learned is not to say “At least it can’t get any worse.” Here, look at the facts:

1. Got a brand new palm pilot! Sat on it, shattering the glass screen! Why me?
2. Got a free bike tuneup to put my bike back in tip-top shape! Found that a $30 part is broken! I’m headed downhill…
3. Potential relationships? Dead ends at every turn.
4. Tired, so tired… from trying to teach nested for loops to antsy 14 year olds, from having to get up before 7, from continuous exposure to immaturity, from feeling alone in the middle of a crowd, from continuous exposure to very bad things.
5. Bought a cool new truck! 1977 ford, in cherry condition, runs great. Drive it to California, getting about 11 miles to the gallon, and now find that it dies for the first quarter mile you drive it.
6. At least it looks perfect, right? Well, thanks to a university van parked in my usual spot, I had to park right next to a big metal pole. Thanks to the dying, I had to hold the gas, brake, and clutch pedals all at the same time in order to back out, and steer, and so I ran into this pole with the driver’s side door, shearing paint and leaving a dent in the formerly vast expanse of untouched, perfect bodywork.
7. Buy expensive shampoo on recommendation. Leave in Las Vegas…
8. Unpack, looking for phone to plug in… nowhere. Buy phone at store.
9. Play capture the flag. Outnumbered 40 to 25, but do pretty well. Until I fall on the slippery sand trail and gouge a 4″ by 2″ scrape in my leg, in addition to cutting up my knees and hands. Still feel very competitive, and continue to risk life for team. Lose.
10. Discover that during the game, my $150 watch was torn loose. It’s found, but is missing a large linking piece. Look and look through the grass, but hey, that would be asking for good luck, huh?
11. I get a nice single in Grove Mayfield. Spend several days arranging room, moving all my boxes, fridge, microwave, computer, books, chair etc. from my truck to my room. Spend a couple hours moving a foos ball table up a floor, taking a door off the hinges in the process, but get it in my room. Nice. Finally some good fortune, I really really need that single, and it’s set up nicely. THEN.. I’m told because of numbers, I may have to MOVE OUT… Across campus to some tiny room, or to a double. This after the camp director says to all the parents in the initial meeting, “We still have spots next week and in future weeks, in case you want to stay extra weeks, and tell others that may want to come!” This in full knowledge of the room crunch. Can you say “screw the counselors”? I haven’t been moved yet, but he said next week. I tell you, if that happens, it will seriously be the last straw, and I may just lose all hope and drive back to Colorado for the summer…

A large number of these things happened today, including the truck incident and all capture the flag events… I feel like a punching bag right now. Ok, so some good stuff has happened… even some good stuff that’s quite nice. But evey good thing has been warped by some misfortune, and outpaced by very bad things on all fronts.

And now I have to wake up in under 4 hours to go wake up kids and take them to breakfast. And teach a seminar tomorrow that is as of yet without any ideas…

I’m sorry, I just couldn’t muster the will for a funny entry.

Quotes of today:

“Ugh.” “Ow!” “Sigh.” “OWW!” “No. No. No, you can’t. NO!” “#$&@*$# boxes!”

Question of the day: Are you psychic?

I think I’ve pinned down the causes of my motivation problems. One thing that makes me want to avoid homework is being in a good mood. When I’m in
a good mood, I want to play foos ball, or go for a walk, or educate children, or recycle. I don’t want to use pencils! Another thing that makes me unmotivated is a bad mood. When I’m in a bad mood, I want to sulk around, frown, sleep, corrupt children, or throw away aluminum cans. I don’t want to use erasers! The only other thing that leeches my motivation is a kind of neutral mood, where I generally want to sit down, or flip a coin, or let a coin flip me, or draw polar bears, or sneeze.

I think I like sleeping on my couch. No need to climb up dangerous ladders. Unfortunately I’m too tall for it, so I have four options, conveniently represented in table form below.

I was recently given a Matchbox mobile crane, with extending crane arm. I was pleased to learn that it is precisely 1:90 scale. This brought me back, not merely to elementary school, but beyond… To age two, and my first intelligble noises. Before my first words (which, incidently, were “uh-oh”), came vroom vroom, and b-b-b-b-b. And, when given the truck, I could not resist the urge. I hate to brag, but my car sounds are really good now.

I’m sorry I’ve been delinquent lately, but I’ve been in somewhat of a sleepy daze. This has helped me to laugh a lot more at things, but has sapped my creative power. I suspect the unicycle is in on it too. It’s features are now twisted into a ugly, menacing frown. Until I get the pedal fixed, I believe I’m being cursed every time I walk by Mr. Schwinn. This summer, I hope to get a lot of sleep, and will have at my disposal lots of children, which are basically raw material for funny. (I’m teaching computer camp in Bob).

You know, when the little purple guys are flyin’ around, and you’re weavin’ in and out, and that darn snake is about to land on you, wait just a little bit. I’m a discman® as much as the next guy, but use those things at the last minute! There are things you’re just gonna have to learn if you wanna make it in the cutthroat Q-bert world, and this is one of them.

Two girls that I didn’t really like gave me 4 full size candy bars. As if this weren’t enough, it occured immediately after I had managed to nearly palm the light cover upstairs (been trying all year to touch one). I said no at first, but then I realized this might be the only good thing that ever comes of these mean girls, so I sheepishly accepted. All these windfalls made me panic. I didn’t quite know what to say, so, hands wrought with chocolate, I pretended to be thirsty and buried my lips in drinking fountain water. My heart has stopped pounding, but my lips haven’t. Stop pounding, lips!

Quote of the day:

Gerhard Casper, at dinner tonight: Oh my God, she has golden toenails! … My God!

Answer of the day: Yes!

Someone told me today, “Happy Cinco de Mayo.” And I said, “What, do I look French to you?” Then they went on and on about how “cinco de mayo” was some holiday celebrating Mexico’s independance, and I finally had to interrupt them and ask again, “Yeah, so? Do I look French to you?” (Because I really wanted to know.)

Saturday a week and a half ago, I went on a 50 mile or so bike ride with Siobhan. It was up and over an infinite hill, then down to the beach, and back up and over an even longer hill. We made the trip official by touching the ice cold ocean, which would have been good for ice skating if only it were a couple degrees cooler. The ride would have gone fine, but I only ate a croissant before leaving (stupid), and had only a sandwich halfway through the ride. Well, along that big hill on the way back, I kept feeling more and more tired - my legs were fine, and I wasn’t breathing hard, but I felt like sleeping. And everything, everything, reminded me of food. I smelled some random odor emanating from the forest, and I could have sworn it was mint chocolate chip ice cream. I saw some crushed white rock on the ground, and marvelled at it’s resemblance to lemon cookie bars covered in powdered sugar. Finally I took Siobhan’s recommendation to stop (I was in a daze, apparently we were going about 2 mph), and she rode up a ways to get a snack from a gas station. Meanwhile, I staggered over to the side of the road, let my bike fall haphazardly to my side, and collapsed in a heap. I felt sleep coming on rapidly, but before I could doze off, a car slowed and the driver yelled “Are you ok?!” I told him wearily that I was fine. “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m just resting.” This wouldn’t have been so bad, but that episode was repeated for approximately 10 cars as they drove by, each stopping to see if I was all right. Two motorcyclists and a Volvo stopped a little down the road and began to walk towards me, but were beat by an Audi that pulled up right next to me. I told them what was going on, and they offered me a can of “Orangina.” I don’t know what it was, but I had it down in a couple seconds. Another car stopped and gave me a box of fresh strawberries, which I also inhaled. I was feeling a little better now, and Siobhan returned with a lemonade, powerbar, and banana, which I made short work of. After this, we took off, making good time the rest of the way. The moral? No, not eat well before exercising.. It’s “When hungry, lie down beside the road. You will soon be satisfied.”

In the process of wrenching Sarah’s keys from her hands, I managed to bend the keyring a little bit. I, gentleman that I am, took it upon myself to restore it to its perfect circular glory. My hands didn’t quite get the torque I needed, so I bit down with my front teeth to twist the keyring. This resulted in a very unpleasant crunching/grinding sound, and sure enough, my top tooth was chipped, the chipped piece sitting atop the keyring, staring me down with defiance. “Ha ha, stupid idiot!” you might think. Well, I would think that too, except it was me, so instead, I try to think “What a brave soul, gallantly sacrificing his own tooth! A true knight, in a classic contest of steel vs enamel, to win the admiration of all!” Maybe I could add a bit more excitement and drama, but I want to retain my humility, too…

I ate a really good 1/40th of a burrito today in a reception for the school of education (it was a long burrito). After I finished, I gathered all my trash unto my dirty plate, stood up, grabbed my backpack and Root Beer, and…. My trash ridden plate had vanished. I looked under my chair, on top of my chair, on nearby tables… It was gone, gone! This is the kind of thing that can haunt you for days, so I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight…

Quote of the week:

Alex Jasso: It’s like seeing naked people playing brass instruments.

Will this quarter never end? Maybe, this chronicle did…