It would be incredibly convenient to have fresh, hot food available whenever I want. Unfortunately, as the only Asian in the apartment, it's my job to insure that luxury for the roommates. In turn, they reward me by occasionally acknowledging my presence. Not bad, for white people.

I believe that my Early Shakespeare professor is part leprechaun. Not only is he a short, energetic man, but he also has a pot of gold. Okay, so maybe I was jumping to conclusions about that last bit, but it wouldn't surprise me. He stammers quite a bit and seems to me to be at least some part magical. Not necessarily because he's a great teacher, but because I think I saw sparks fly out of his fingertips. View for yourself:

As it was the first day of school today, there were many first time college students roaming the campus. And this year holds the highest number of Freshmen in the history of the University of California, a feat which makes many of the upper classmen rather annoyed. For instance, it takes much longer to get anywhere on campus, due to the mass of naivete not knowing how to bike. I had to swerve out of my way many a time just to avoid getting hit.

I was surprised to realize that my beginning Italian class was filled with Freshmen. Usually there is a pretty big mix of age in such a basic class. Yet there was only one other Junior and one Sophomore in a class of 25 or so. There were several great quotes:

• "Wait, what is 'section?'"
• "Oh, are you a grad student?"
• "It was easy to find the classroom because I rehearsed my schedule yesterday."

I've heard from others that the gym is horrendous to use right now. It's completely packed and most of the Freshmen have no idea how to use any of the equipment. A pain for everyone.

I think a good idea would be to pair up every Freshman with a fat girl and make them bike around a bike circle for eternity. But first we must build enough bike circles.

I'm not a very big fan of 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioners. To me, it seems like a big ploy to make you think you're getting something more. Oh, come on. It still looks like shampoo. Where's the conditioner? Oh, you say it's mixed in there? Okay, I'll believe you. It reminds me of what my roommate Joe was telling us this afternoon. Being really lazy and cheap, he filled up fancy vodka bottles with really cheap vodka. Hey, nobody doubts these things. Nobody actually analyzes what's in the bottle. Any good results may very well be the Placebo Effect. I'm should market a shampoo, conditioner, and unicorn tear product. Three in one! Come on, people. Unicorn tears are great for the bowels!

In retrospect, I apologize for this post. I'm incredibly tired.

On my trip to South Carolina, I noticed many interesting characters in the airport. There were some remarkable enough that I took notes. The following is a transcription of my scribbles:

• The dot-Indian man in the terminal—horrible comb-over, Hitler 'stache, slouching. Eating Bugles one at a time, savoring the taste. Wearing giant glasses that look like he stole them from the "Donate to Africa" box at the community center.
• The almost certainly gay flight attendant who looks like he's wearing mascara and would kill for a role in Rocky Horror. Bleached blonde hair, very thin on top, comb over.
• The man with no chin. Seriously, it goes in a straight line to his chest. I'm trying not to stare.
  

I have discovered that food cooked by others and brought to my house makes me feel kind of gross. This comes from the past few days when I have conducted two experiments of this nature. Granted, it might just be the food I've been eating.

Due to me not wanting to think, the following post is brought to you by Lydia Hawkins. Quote: "I'm retarded. Don't put my name on there. Hey, I'm not retarded, you're retarded. You're stupid. You're not very nice, are you? Don't write that."

I think everything is funny. You're weird. Quit imitating me.
Oh, Oh, I know. Okay. Okay. A penguin walks into a bar.
He says, "Ouch!" Get it? No, I was seriously asking if you get
it. You're stupid. This is my frog. Guess what his name
is. His name is Sputnik. Look what he can do. He can do
this. Why are you typing what I say? I like playing with the
frog. Quit it.

Seriously, you can't blame me. These aren't my words.

South Carolina is a pretty average state. It's pretty much how you would expect it. The funniest thing I found was pure evidence of its location in the Bible Belt. On the roads, they have the bright yellow diamond road signs that say "CHURCH" about 100 feet before a church. I have no idea the purpose of these, but I think they're hilarious nonetheless. I wish I had a camera solely so I could take a picture and post it here. But alas, I do not.

I totally think Stone Phillips and The Rock are related.

As Jayna and I will be travelling on airplanes very shortly, we both were browsing TSA's List of Permitted and Prohibited Items. With their latest genre of freaking out, "liquids," they have also recalled some of their more hasty prohibitions. As my sister so wittingly noted, they now allow "Scissors - metal with pointed tips and blades shorter than four inches in length" in the cabin of the plane, yet due to their liquidy nature, prohibit "All creams and lotions including Neosporin or first-aid creams and ointments, topical or rash creams and ointments, suntan lotions, moisturizers, etc." They effectively allow you to inflict as many minor wounds as you desire, but do not allow for a "higher level of healing."

Also, feel free to note the timestamp and question my sanity.
Edit: It's 4:21 AM.

It took me by surprise this morning, when someone mistook me for my brother. I was visiting one of my high school teachers when I hear a voice directed at me. "Did we finish that risk game..." he said as I turned around. "Are you David's brother?" he inquired. "I thought you were David." Well, I assumed that.

I don't know why this struck me as unusual. I mean, I guess it makes sense. These people see my brother on a daily basis and could easily mistake the two of us from behind. It just felt very eerie to go back in time and have the past be completely different. And to top it off, my Delorean has turned into an Oldsmobile. Of all the luck.

I'm usually a big fan of getting my sleeping done at night, but that has been cut short the past few days. As a result, I had to make the troubling decision of whether or not to take a nap.

Naps are always a big decision for me. I'm not one to hastily make decisions, and this is no exception. I'm usually in need of sleep, but I take way too long to recover. It's the worst when I fall asleep in the mid to late afternoon and wake up when it's dark outside. Every time, my mind has to go through the same process, questioning why I'm up so early, why I'm really groggy, and why I'm still wearing all my clothes. At about that time, I realize it was the trick of the nap. For the next few hours, I feel like my head is still asleep and that I'm swimming through clouds. Then there's the uncomfortable feeling of being simultaneously really hungry and really full. It's just an all around awkward situation.

I wish there was some way I could prevent this from happening. Maybe... sleeping at night instead?

As I glanced over my Google News feed this afternoon, I noticed and interesting headline:

"Suicide bomber kills four Canadian soldiers in Panjwai district"

I was shocked. Canada has an army? And they're actually doing things that can get them killed? It makes me feel kind of bad for making so much fun of Canada. I mean, aside from maple syrup, funny accents, and a place where the French can go to feel their language isn't completely useless, I didn't know Canada actually contributed anything to the world. Their having an army completely changes everything. My plan to slowly annex their country and declare it "State Canada" might not work as smoothly as I thought. I'm not saying it won't work, just that we might have to employ a few suicide bombers.

As you've probably heard by now, I was part of a winning sandcastle team yesterday. From what I understand, this is a huge deal and you should be ashamed of yourself if you were not keeping up to date on the local sandcastle competitions. I mean, seriously. This is important stuff.

When I arrived at the beach, I was informed our theme was "Hand Castle." I'll admit, it's clever. I wish I came up with that one. I did contribute to the many puns that were thrown around and listed after the pictures of our awesome job. Click on them for more.
.

• Well, it was such a hand-some concept, not doing it would be like giving you the finger.
  
• I thought you were going to try to strong-arm me with other ideas, and I was totally prepared to hand-le that.
• [To a judge walking away] Did you get our digits?
• The judges will probably just hand us our prize.
• The crowd loves us! We're getting thumbs up and high fives all over the place!
• They're probably just admiring the details of our handiwork.

And worst of all:

• Our team name: The Beach Slappers
  

As per her request, this post is about how utterly observant Jayna is. And by that, I mean that she has noted at least two instances of people looking like other people or things. The first is a result of people commenting that her husband looks like Ed Norton. She did not believe at first, but after a few minutes in Photoshop, her life was altered very slightly.




The second instance is when she noted that Kate Wentzel, KEYT's former over-bronzed meteorologist, resembles a musk ox (her own words).




Thank you, Jayna. Thank you for your incredibly sharp eyes. I can already feel the daggers shooting out of them from when you read this post.

As a parting gift, our Latin instructor gave us a nice sheet of Latin insults. Among the funnier ones are:

• Attractis pedibus patente porta percurrent raphanique mugilesque: "with ankles strapped and the [rear]-gate opened, you'll be run through by mullets and radishes"
• Tamquam alta in dolia longus deciderit serpens, bibit et vomit: "she drinks and vomits like a sinewy snake that has fallen into a deep vat of wine"
• Puella defututa: "a completely worn out mymphomaniac girl"
• Lesbia se iurat gratis numquam esse fututam, verum est. Cum futui vult, numerare solet: "Lesbia swears she only 'does it' for money, and it's true. When she wants it, she usually pays cash."
• Tibi fertur valle sub alarum trux habitare caper: "It is said that a rank goat inhabits your armpits"

As I look back on my Summer, I wonder where it has gone. Then I realize... Latin. Ah, Latin. An intensive Summer study that starts the week after school gets out and ends a week before it starts up again. You have consumed my vacation time by making me memorize, conjugate, and decline. I'm still kind of mad at you.

The pace was unbelievable. During the school year, it would be one chapter a week. In the Summer, it's a chapter a day. There is no time to digest the material, only to stuff yourself fully and hope it works its way out naturally. It's like learning, but hard.

The way things have progressed, it looks like my final is tomorrow. After that, I'm supposed to be able to read real Latin. But from what I've learned in this class, it shouldn't be any problem. I mean, I've gotten really good at pretending I know what I'm talking about.

I would like to formally acknowledge the fact that my computer is retarded. It looks similar to most computers, but has an IQ roughly equal to paint. Many think that "complete immersion" would be good for the computer socially, but they are wrong. Other computers would make fun of it and lower its self esteem. Even worse, the more mature computers would focus so hard on not staring, it would be the same as ignoring it.

Amazingly enough, I am using said computer to write this. You might not find this so strange, but that's because you don't know my computer. Yesterday, it decided to throw a fit and not turn on. After several futile attempts, I reinstalled the OS and it worked. For five minutes. Then I gave up.

This morning, it decided to work again. It seemed completely normal for another five minutes, then refused to behave. It now works whenever it feels like it. Apparently now is one of those times. I should post this now while I still have the chance.

I hate this computer.

For the past few months now, I have been pushing a new line of thought in the fashion world, something I like to call "Innovative Matching." Innovative Matching goes far beyond the realm of conventional matching, which makes followers adhere to strict rules and openly mocks those who break them. Often, these rules do not even follow logical guidelines, yet are in full force amongst the fashion police. Innovative Matching exists to counteract injustices like these.

The basic principle of Innovative Matching has been around for centuries, yet until now has always been overshadowed by its conventional counterpart. Each new fashion trend started as someone breaking the mold and being openly different, to the point where the masses took hold and adopted the new idea to the laws of matching. Yet just as these trends form, so do they die, once again rewritten in the Book of Bad Matching.

The principle behind Innovative Matching lies in the concept of themes. Followers of Innovative Matching emphasize the strong themes of their ensemble and wear them with pride. A beginner in this belief may find it difficult at first, but with patience comes success. A general rule to live by is, "If you can't find a theme in your ensemble, you obviously aren't looking hard enough."

That being said, let's look at some examples for forming your themes.

Excessive Anything
A fashion minded person might follow the hard and fast rule of the Greeks: "Everything in moderation." When creating a theme for an excessive ensemble, however, we take the faults and make them strengths. Too many patterns? "Pattern Themed." Too many colors? "Rainbow Themed." Too baggy? "Celebration of Weight Loss." Too tight? "Celebration of Overcoming Anorexia."

Lack of Anything
One might comment on a seemingly boring ensemble. A few well chosen words can explain your theme. Monochromatic? "Experiments in Blue (Red, Khaki, Chartreuse, etc...)." No belt? "Waist-size Management." Velcro anything? "Embracing Alternative Fastenings."

The Big No-Nos
These are the big faux pas for which every fashion policeman or woman will lock you in the stocks. What once used to be hopeless can now be explained. Brown belt and black shoes? "Leather Themed." Unbuttoned shirt? "Theme of Ventilation." An exposed slip or bra strap? "Layers." Headgear? "Orthodontic Awareness." Socks and sandals or skirts and Uggs? "Celebration of the Seasons."

Keep in mind that "Matching" is half of "Innovative Matching." You should always tie in an errant article of clothing to the rest of the ensemble. If you are wearing socks and sandals, try wearing a light, Spring colored Winter coat for an even stronger effect. Wear Velcro shoes, a button up shirt, zippered jacket, and a magnetic clasped purse to complete the "Alternative Fastenings" ensemble. But don't worry if you can't pull off all these things. These are just ideas, people.

If you're really pushed for ideas, get creative. Wear a brand-themed outfit. "It matches because I bought everything at a thrift store" is a perfectly valid explanation. If you're especially pathetic, even "clothes that smell like my laundry detergent" will work. When in doubt, be innovative. After all, it's in the name.

I'm in a bit of a predicament right now. I have a free Hammond organ at my theoretical fingertips, yet no means of obtaining it. Basically, I responded to an offer on craigslist for a free organ and the seller gave me first dibs. The problem? It's 390 pounds and I have a seriously hard time bench pressing the bar. Granted, this seems like a desperate attempt to get someone to help me. But if we all take a step back, it's funny... right?

Every year, our neighbors decide it would be nice to get together and see what's going on in the lives of others living on our street. Each year, it becomes increasingly awkward when we have the conversation with a family we've never met:

Us: So, which house is yours?
Them: The one with the long driveway and the big rock out in front.
Us: Ah. What cute children you have. I haven't seen them on our street very much. When did you move here?
Them: About eight years ago. When did you guys move here?
Us: 1986.

It seems we found a pretty good plan this year. The main strategies were:

• Be out of town, giving you the excuse to show up an hour and a half late
• Forget to wear the proper clothing, forcing you to return to a warm home early
• Bring lots of cupcakes as distractions for those who might notice you leaving early.

All things went according to plan. I spent my 15 or so minutes at the party talking to three of the neighbors I knew, strategically avoiding an awkward confrontation. All in all, things weren't so bad. Yet I envy my brother, who managed to one-up the rest of us with his "symptoms of early bronchitis" and not showing up at all.

Since I now officially have an ex-girlfriend who perfectly fits the stereotype, I feel somewhat worthy of posting this product:

It would make me very happy if someone got this for me. Or better yet, if someone got this for my ex-girlfriend. I would love to see her display some of that bitter angst by lacerating dripping flesh then shoving the weapon into a little man. Oh the joy.

Apparently freaking out after my toothpaste post, my sister sent me the following email:

Why did i not get notified about national discuss toothpaste month?

http://pinkhardhatchick.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!E744C9EFFD9E6DE4!1757.entry?_c11_blogpart_blogpart=blogview&_c=blogpart#permalink

http://www.devtools.org/mt/rus/archives/000260.html

Jayna

Cool, a national toothpaste month. I guess that means September is that month. Oh wait:

It seems Mary posted hers in August. There goes that one. But how about Rus? He's still good, right?

Wrong. Our national month is spread out over the course of three. When I pointed this out to Jayna, she responded:

I was talking about a Jupiter month, duh.

Yet for some reason, she thinks she is qualified to edit my posts. Interesting.

As an extremely lazy person, I have found increasing joy in the Crest brand of toothpaste, specifically their more special products. This stems primarily from two reasons:

1. They use of a flip top, meaning I don't have to use two hands to get it off.
2. They send free stuff to my father, who in turn gives it to me.

However, there came a point last year when I was in need of toothpaste, yet no father was near. So I ventured to the store with my preferences in mind, and proceeded to try a new flavor of their "Whitening Expressions" line.

Vanilla Mint? The scratch-n-sniff seemed promising. I took it home and proceeded to use it. After a few days of enjoyment, I came to a tootbrush-shattering realization. This toothpaste tastes like cookies. A strange vanilla-mint cookie. Actually, it tastes like a vanilla cookie ground up and added to toothpaste, or perhaps a cookie with toothpaste frosting. Either way, it's weird. It's like some sort of backwards effect of an earlier post. Now whenever I brush with the stuff, it takes me an extra long time because I have to brush off the cookie I am eating by brushing.

As promised on Jayna's birthday, this post is regarding the plastic bag swimsuit.

For some reason, the Nordstrom penny bags are really long. They're probably twice as long as a normal plastic bag. Because of this, one might look at it and think it looks very similar to a one-piece bathing suit, sans the holes for legs. And very easily, one might get the idea to make holes for legs, then proceed to try on the new bathing suit, then force a brother to try it on, then force a husband. These events are all so possible they actually happened. Unfortunately, Shane does not possess amazingly Asian contortion skills and size, so he broke the bag. Sad face.

Jayna again (for posterity):


Me:


The White Man:


Every plastic bag's friend, the Accordion:

Although I originally found this advertisement in high school, it's still one of the most frighteningly placid things I have ever seen. In protest of their advertising practices, I illegally downloaded the product, an "ear training supercourse" in the form of a series of CDs. David Lucas Burge, presumably the man pictured in the ad, has one of the strangest voices I have heard on any recording of human spoken voice. If it weren't for the information I was getting from the words he was speaking, I would have turned it off and listened to something more soothing, such as a metal spoon in a blender.

My curiosity sparked, I did a Google Image search for this man and two other pictures came up:



Now, I'm not sure if there are even two pictures of the same man, but I consider all three very eerie. I'm giving David Lucas Burge the "Creepy Man of the Day" award.

(There is no actual prize, but I suppose if he wants to, he can think of it as an excuse to do everyday creepy activities. Like staring. Or breathing heavily.)

For some reason or another, the internet connection was lost. Unaware of this, I tried to view my homepage. My browser proceeded to show me this:



Thank you, Google. Thank you for noticing that I could not reach your website. And thank you also for giving me but one suggestion to try, that being to search for your website through your own, inaccessible website.

For some reason, my mind does not comprehend text messages as actual forms of communication. If someone sends me a text message, I have to call them back immediately, otherwise it will go to the back of my head and I will ignore it. I don't know what it is about them, but I always seem to forget about them. I'm fine with all other forms of communication, such as phone calls, emails, instant messaging, etc. Hey, I'll even promptly respond to a mailed letter. But when it comes to text messages, I have to concentrate really hard in order to respond.

My favorite example of this is when my roommate needed money from me for the electric bill at the beginning of the summer. Money is sort of an important matter, so I'm going to give him most of the blame on this one. Instead of calling me, as would have been logical, he sent me a text message. It said:

I need the sixty six
bucks jeff. Can you
mail it to [his address]

I got this message in the middle of the day, at work, so by the time I got home, it was completely out of my mind. Every so often, I'll think about it, then laugh at how ridiculous text messaging is.

I believe the following images firmly support my claim that South Carolina is a tri-tip.

In honor of her special day, this post is dedicated to my sister, Jayna. I've known Jayna for some time now, so you can trust in my judgment that her early years were just as weird as the later ones.

As you probably do not know, Jayna is the official editor of this blog. The only reason this is official is because I'm saying it right now. Prior to this, she was just the first person who would read my posts and actually send me corrections. She is remarkably speedy at noting the changes because it is one of her many fortes to find things on the internet. If there is something on the internet, she probably knows about it. I don't think she does anything useful at work.

I'm done with writing about her. It's not really funny and I feel my English skills have gone downhill. So happy birthday, and here's one of the less flattering pictures I found of you:



(Yes, that's a plastic bag. More on that in a later post.)