I Am a Good Person. No. Really.

The day was going fine until my four-year-old cousin started spitting up blood. But I'm getting ahead of myself! So, somehow, through threats, pleas, and blackmail, my mother cajoled me into taking my cousin out in the snow. He lives in Houston so this was his first time. So I zip up my gigantic orange onesie, pull on a mismatched pair of gloves, and head outside into the snow. My little cousin wanted ride on the sled. I curbed the impulse to simply find the largest mountain of ice and gravel to shove him off of, and just tugged him gently along behind me. So where do you think I went? Through the largest thicket of brush I could possibly have stumbled into. Not because I'm mean, but because that is something I would have enjoyed at his age. Eventually, after being assailed by wild brambles, dunked in small puddles of water, and bounced over ridges of ice, my little cousin decided that the best thing for his safety and mine would be to evacuate the sled. It took me several minutes to realize that making the sled airborne was much easier than it had been a few minutes ago. I looked back and found him sitting in the snow. I sat down next to him. I had noticed while I was gallivanting around that there was a very thin layer of ice in the middle of the snow. Probably what had happened was that the snow had melted the previous day and had refrozen with the new snow fall. So I carved a large piece of ice out from the snow and showed it to him. He laughed and punched it. He picked up a considerably smaller piece of ice. I punched it. Bad idea. He carved out an astoundingly large piece of ice and threw it at me. I assume my yelp of pain must have distracted him from my curling up in a fetal position. At least, that was the plan. "OK, it's time for a ride." I placed him gently on the sled and ran up the nearest hill. As I pushed him (gently!) I slammed my knee against a spiky rock hidden underneath the snow. I rolled after him. "Let's sled some more!" said the little tyke. I am gasping in pain by his feet. Oh joy. I attempted the feeblest little hobble. "OK, let's just sit down and play with the ice some more okay?" He promptly sat down and started munching on ice. Sharp ice. This is the part when blood started coming out of his mouth. My mother walked by. Outstanding. Could my day get any better? Could I be blessed more than I already had? Apparently. My cousin's face is covered in blood. I'm limping like a Vietnam vet. "I think it's time to go inside" I said. My mother didn't say anything but I could tell she thought it was a good idea. Probably the best idea I had had all day. And that is where my story ends. Through the duel miracles of paper towels and specific omission of facts, my aunt probably never heard about it. That's the plan anyway.

I AM INTERESTED IN

Absorbent paper towels. Useful in a variety of situations.

Radio lab (because you don't get it)

and... «ŖΛǤЄ»

Problem Child

Who in their right minds would want to be a high school teacher? Teaching high school is like having 100 children who never complete adolescence. You have to go to college for years, work for minimum wage, and interact with people who secretly (and openly) hate you. Like an insurance agent. Without the benefits. What kind of people would this job attract? I honestly don't believe that every single high school teacher really, really wants to make a difference in children's lives. I just imagine that in every grade level there is one sane teacher surrounded by overwhelmingly cheerful coworkers. Imagine the horror.

Elementry school teachers I can generally understand. They usually enjoy kids. Even mean elementry school teachers like small children. Medium rare. For me, teaching elementary school kids would be like a dream where earth has been transported to Sesame Street. And everybody loves it but you.




















I AM INTERESTED IN

The most recent THIS AMERICAN LIFE was great. It was on "mind games."

A clip from The Best Of British Commercials show that my parents recently went to
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=besDBr0bCWA

My favorite commercial EVARRRAR
You may recognise it ;-)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6biz85fUv04

Of Men and Monsters

"Which words don't you understand? I thought I had made myself clear." I spoke these words to (girl in my German class) with little to no effect. "But WHERE is it coming from?" she said. I put my face in my hands and slowly raise my head as I recite for the second time: "Ok, I'll break it down real simple for you. There is a radio SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO OUR HEADS. Where do YOU think the sound is coming from." "I don't know. I'm confused." "Obviously" I say. "As always" I think.

This is a typical day in high school German. I can barely understand most people in that class. God forbid they attempt to sputter out a cohesive sentence in English. German, on the other hand, is where they decide to talk as much as possible and omit enough grammar rules to shame first generation immigrants. The way they speak in there would make Hitler want to put them in a... oh never mind. You understand what I'm saying right? Before learning a new language you must learn how to speak your own. I cannot possibly imagine how most people get through the school day. If you can't comprehend the difference between a verb and a noun it must be like trying to solve a Rubix Cube with your face to conjugate one.

Throughout the rest of the class I sigh loudly and often enough that another girl sitting next to me asks if something is wrong.














I am interested in

lobotomies to improve intelligence

RADIO LAB (I would strongly suggest the one about life after death)

Quad's blog @ http://quadsspittle.blogspot.com/

Paper Mache People

-------->>











Do you see what your lack of commenting has done? That's right. It made me make a gun out of question marks.

"Someday you might make some young lady very happy" my brother said. "Ya" I say, "Someday you could make a young lady very happy too." My brother's girlfriend gives me a dirty look.

It is my unique penchant for insulting everyone around me that makes me one of the worst people to have around in polite situations. In the above situation I was stuck in the car with the two of them for the next ten minutes.
One time, while at an important dinner party, I commented on the nice tie the man sitting next to me at the dinner table. At least, I thought it was nice. It's not my fault that I didn't notice that the colors were clashing, it was tied wrong, and someone had spilled red wine on it. Unfortunately for me, the man was aware of all of the reasons that his tie was not in the least bit, "nice." I wondered why he didn't seem talkative.

I went to a wedding of people I didn't know and didn't care about. Mistake #1. I had the facial equivalent of Niagara Falls spraying out of my nose. Mistake # 2. I didn't know the names of the bride, groom, or anyone else at the party. Mistake # 3. During the ceremony my sniffling and tears far outshined the mothers and fathers of the couple being married. Like a child baking mud cookies, the only thoughts going through my head were "this is not going to end nearly as well as anticipated" and "I can't believe people actually do this."

Sorry for jumping around a lot. I hope my little anecdotes were fun.

These things were enjoyed by me. (Passive voice)

RADIO LAB

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OIwETgalWTQ

Comment or forever be eaten! er... never mind.

Oh my god. OMG OMG OMG!!!

It is with a scream of hatred and a single bloody tear with which I start writing this post. Congratulations. You have ignored me into action. You win.

There are several things annoying me at this very instant. Less than two feet away from my ear, my computer is making a high pitched buzzing sound that I am fairly certain was not there before. The cords around my mouse look as tangled as a homeless woman's hair. On a bad day. In addition, we only have one phone in our house. The other one is gone. Well, it did leave one part of itself here. I can still hear it ring. It is somewhere in this room. I will hunt it. I will find it. I will call myself over and over in the hopes that either I can find the phone, or my future self will somehow answer. Honestly at this point I would actually settle for either one.

My parents are watching a movie that can only be described by a mutant with two thumbs down and one thumb up. All I can hear are guttural nature noises. Fortunately my time here is almost up.

I swear upon my undead rhinoceros's empty grave that one day you will comment on one of these posts. I am starting to enjoy this whole "blogging" thing. And yet, even as my Hot Pocket finishes with a ding that promises indigestion and self hatred, I feel myself compelled to leave my chair.Farewell, and shall my cyber fingers always find a way through your ears and into your head.

I AM INTERESTED IN

RADIO LAB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!((()()()()!!!

Antidisestablishmentarianism

I Am Not Attacking you. I Am Simply Aggressively Hugging You.

Show some love.

Just to get you to comment, I am going to make you sons of mothers a deal. I will take suggestions from the comments for things to write about. The topic of yours I choose I will write a complete 1-3 page paper on it. Remember post your suggestions in the COMMENTS.


You Have Found This Post Informative


I AM ENJOYING

A delicious cup of hot chocolate.
also...

RADIO LAB (on Itunes in case you forgot how to use the scroll button)

http://www.sixtysymbols.com/videos/008.htm

The word colloquialism

(Crappy Title Here)

How To Write A Terrible Essay With A Title That Is Ridiculously Long and Unnecessary, And It is A Run On Sentence

Under no circumstances should your first sentence be appealing. It should not be shocking, deep, or out of the ordinary. Avoid interesting words that may, just for the sake of vocabulary, hold the reader’s attention. Make this paragraph too long, with far too few actual facts or opinions to warrant its word count. Throughout this essay, the actions or events described should be tremendously unremarkable.
Start this paragraph with some sort of bigoted generality. Don’t write anything too outrageous; your readers may become interested. At least half of your sentences in this paragraph should follow this formula: I (verb) (noun). Follow these statements with a run on sentence and a misused semicolon. Halfway through the paragraph remember your first statement and expand on it. Compare and contrast unrelated events and use its conclusion to halfheartedly prove your point. If you’re feeling edgy, say you will describe something later in the essay, and then forget about it.
Your readers are not supposed to get this far. This is the point of no return; they will finish reading this essay. Absolutely do not reward their efforts. They have slogged through this quagmire of nonsense only to land in your pool of boredom! Where before your writing was devoid of any description, suddenly it will be overwhelmed by tedious explanations. Express your fascination for Tupperware and rare models of extension cords. Remember that adjectives such as “very” can be repeated several times for dramatic emphasis while still being grammatically correct. In the case that you accidentally explain an idea, misspell a four-letter word and use the wrong “there.” End this paragraph with a significant idea, undermined by being encased in the words “maybe” and “I think.”
Your last paragraph should start weak and end with a whimper. Begin by misquoting a historically insignificant figure. Slip in a comic non sequitur that is either revolting or exceptionally unclear. Insert a smiley face. This should persuade your readers that their immensely low opinion of you was drastically overestimated. Do not disappoint them now (or rather, do). Your last few lines should sum up important events that you forgot to include. Finish by quoting yourself.

I AM INTERESTED IN

RADIO LAB (DOWNLOAD!!!)\

AND

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

Pie

Pi

It would be chocolate, dark chocolate with little bits of sugar. There would be little cracks running along the top where the gentle heat had expanded the filling. The crust would be firm enough to bite into, but yielding enough to separate without crumbs. Who, after all, would want to waste one single morsel of this pie? Before the buttery chocolate filling had even begun to melt, it was already swirling in my mind.

I set to work right away. The crust is not to be taken lightly. It gives a pie shape; it defines it. A pie without a crust is like a mind without a body. As I kneaded and fashioned the dough into the shape my psyche had imagined, I wondered about the stochasticity of crusts. Would this one puff up to the truly astonishing expectations that I had for it? My heart raced with anticipation as I molded the crust into its proper shape, and laid it in the refrigerator to rest. I felt like I had to lay down myself. But the ball was still in my court. A crust without a center is scaffolding without a structure. The filling must be made. It had to be.

Melting chocolate is a finicky and difficult business. No one melts chocolate more than once in his or her life and leaves without one horrific, although not altogether bitter, experience. The cheater’s way out is to add butter. Add too little, and people will ask about calories; add enough, and the thought that this could somehow be detrimental to their health will never cross their mind. My molten chocolate was smooth, rich, and smelled not too faintly of melted butter, but also, when poured into a clear bowl, was a perfect representation of what I thought my crust would be worthy of. With a little dab of flour, a touch of egg, and a quick squirt of vanilla, my pie filling was prepared.

By now my kitchen smelled like the bakery it has effectively become. I like to think that the wood and steel retain memoirs of meals past; little scents of hickory and dill from old cookouts, or whiffs of bread and exotic (or smelly) cheeses. I felt like I was adding to the extensive catalogue of tasty treats this kitchen had helped prepare.

My crust, still slightly cool from the refrigerator, I placed on the countertop. It stood out in a bright contrast to the dark granite on which it sat. Then I poured the glassy, chocolaty mixture into the center. I did not really need to pour it from so high; it would be fine from just a few inches above, but I loved watching the inky syrup trickle down and collect on the bottom. With that final step, I placed the pie in the oven with doubtless the same feeling that parents get when they send their child off on their first day of school.

Soon after, I opened the oven. I spotted a perfect golden brown crust, and a rippling, slightly cracked center. All at once the smells escaped: vanilla, chocolate, butter, almond, and all the meals this oven remembers, washed over me. I took the pie, for at last it was worthy of being called a pie, out onto the counter and promptly stuck my head back in the oven. My nose, desperately trying to find the source of the smell, led me back out of the oven and onto the counter. I took out a knife that was rather too large for the occasion. It glinted as it descended towards the pie. Some people like to wait and let it cool, but not me! I was going to enjoy every speck of my slice, and I would do it when the crust was hot, and the filling drippy.

I AM INTERESTED IN:

http://failblog.org/

Waar m eye?

Tihs is hraedr tehn you tinhk.

For the first time in my life, I spit out some of my mother's home cooked food into the garbage. She asked me to try it, and I did. It looked delicious. It was slow-cooked beef stew. We were going to give it as a gift to some friends of ours. The tender chunks of meat were cushioned on a bed of glistening, roasted tomatoes. Little bits of spices hung on the carrots that looked as delicate as autumn flowers. And I spit it out. I spit it into the garbage and washed my mouth out with water. "That" I said as I wiped my mouth on a bit of towel "Was one of the most bitter things I have ever tasted." "That's weird" said my mother. "Maybe you just got a bay leaf." "Probably" I said, "I'll try another spoonful." As soon as it touched my tongue, I knew this bite would be worse than the first. I spit it out and gagged into the garbage. "That is disgusting" I said. The strange thing is, the stew looks like the most delicious thing in the world. I knew from previous stews that there was not one thing in there that I did not like. "I'll try it" my mother said. She took a clean spoon and dipped it into the surface of the tomatoes. She took a little bit of meat too. She chewed it for a while. "That is SO bitter!" She repeated this many times. Finally she reached breaking point. She started to cry.
I am really not the best in this kind of situation. What I should have said was something like "Oh we can fix it somehow." What I did say was "Well, at least we didn't feed it to our friends." As a mentioned. I am really bad in these situations.


I am going to cut that story short right there. Feel free to leave replies on how much of a smart-ass I am. I can take it.

On that lovely note. Here are some things I'm interested in!

Check out sxephil on youtube. He is one of the funniest people I have heard in a long time. He is the sixth most viewed channel on youtube.

Also, if you are interested at all in chemistry, (and I mean AT ALL) check out http://www.periodicvideos.com/
Click on any of the elements to learn some interesting facts about it. Do it. Trust me.

Download radio lab on itunes. If you have read this and not done that SHAME ON YOU. The best hours of radio I have ever heard. Bar none.

Cool Story Bro

Here is a story from my life. Enjoy it.

I recently had one of those slow motion moments. This is not the triumphant I-just-threw-a-basketball-into-the-net-with-one-second-left-moments. This is not even the type where you barely make it through against all the odds. This is the kind where the odds are stacked against you, you fail, and you continue to fail for no other reason other that it's just not your day.
I was brushing my teeth. For some reason, when I'm done, I snap the toothbrush out of my mouth like I'm actually trying to break my face. I succeed at least in that sense. My bottom lip starts to bleed a little. The toothbrush flies out of my hand like the stone that hit Goliath. I saw it start to fall, and I'm sure you have guessed the trajectory. "Plunk." It lands in the toilet. Unfortunatly for me, I follow the camp rule, "If it's yellow let it mellow." I now had my only toothbrush floating in my soiled toilet. I sort of made a sad little grabbing motion where the tooth brush used to be in the air about 5 seconds ago. No, I'm not an idiot. I'm just very stupid. On the other hand, I am not stupid enough to overvalue my toothbrush to the point of me sticking my hand in to get it. I try flushing it of course, but guess what? Plumbing is not completely straight. It just floats right back up. There is no avoiding it now. Somehow, through hand or spoon This toothbrush must come out. Of course I choose hand. I wrap my hand in toilet paper. This is probably not the best idea considering toilet paper is probably the most absorbent thing known to man. I reach down in grab it. The moment it touches the water, my hand gets about two pounds heavier (I thought the more toilet paper I had the less water would reach my hand) and coagulates into a single, quickly disintegration mass.
Think about this scene for a second. Imagine you just walked into the bathroom. You see a teen age kid with a bloody lip reaching into his toilet. His hand is covered with toilet paper and clutching a toothbrush.

THE END

Enjoy what I'm interested in.

This American Life (anther free weekly podcast on itunes)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuG5WTId-IY

First!

Yes that's right. I have finally joined the countless multitudes of mindless bloggers. This blog will not be cool. It will not be "hip" or "happening." At this very moment I am sitting on a chair with the arms broken off. I am staring at a glowing computer screen encased in aging paper. I am typing on a keyboard covered in an inch of what i assume to be Cheeto dust and bellybutton fuzz. At least, I hope it's not anything worse than that. Feel free to comment. Just don't mention anything:
Offensive
Long winded
fun
enjoyable
interesting
constructive
Otherwise it might just be better than my writing. Don't make me angry. I may hit my head against the keyboard too much and pop out a blog post.

Instead of reading my blog when you notice it has been updated,














Run like hell.

After every post, assuming I continue, I will include a list of things I am interested in this week. I'm sure you care. For emphasis, this week I will list only one.

RADIO LAB (check the podcast on itunes) If you have the slightest intrest in the world around you, you will enjoy this show.