Wednesday, August 29

level 4 nerdalert

Here's a thing that happened:

When Broome Street met Eldridge, they took a bath together in chicken blood and rotting fruit to wash off the smell of dead things and sewage left out in the sun.

I don't like other people, so I walk faster than them. Never one to play along, the girl walking in front of me sped up when I passed her. Then she fell back. But then she sped up and passed me again, before resigning to a pace that neatly matched mine. I thought about pushing her, and then you showed up.

You were the guy on the bike behind us. Your helmet was the color of dirty teeth, and your glasses were vintage and so was your face. Since the two girls in front of you were walking side by side, you couldn't advance and it made you scream. Once, you screamed "excuse me," and twice you made a noise like you messed you pants and forgot what language was like.

Then one of the girls turned around and yelled, "it's illegal to ride on the sidewalk" at you. That was me. Maybe you were stunned, but maybe I was right about your prior incontinence. Whatever the reason, you made a face that humiliated us both. The other girl glared at me and did a thing with her mouth, which is fine because when we all got to the corner, I kept walking and you both waited for the light to change.

Themes of the story: I won the race.

Here's another way to tell that story:

Parts of Broome Street are gross. I am socially awkward and a bully to old people. Three people were on a street and two of them were normal, while their physical proximity sent the third into a silent panic. That was me. Also, let's forget that other girl because this time, before the story starts, I kill her with how fast I can walk.

You are a nice old man on a bike, and maybe you don't want to ride in the street because your glasses and eyes are so old that they can't see cars and you are afraid. I am still angry about the girl who made me so nervous that I was forced to explode her, so I turn and misplace my anger onto you. When I scream it sounds like any scene in a movie about nerds where one of the nerds is talking, right before he gets thrown in the face with a pie. You're like "whatever" and cruise on with you basket, and I choke on my retainer. A bunch of calculators fall out of my napsack, and a pocket protector beats me to death with a textbook. I get sent to a hell of chicken blood and rotting fruit, where it is my job to separate the dead things from the sewage left out in the sun. You get to the corner and wait for the light to change. While you're waiting, you find ten dollars. A million good things happen to you for the rest of your life. You never shit your pants again.

Tuesday, August 28

more like hollywood & pine

I was going to make a joke here, but now I'm just depressed because this movie doesn't actually exist.

Friday, August 24

iCake / CakePod

This is an iPod that organizes your pictures of cake.

(it's Friday and also, I'm starving.)

Tuesday, August 21

I wish that Lisa Frank had a blog, and that she wanted me to write for it

August 21, 2007

Dolphin dolphin swan. Cloudhorse rainbow purple pink! Pink swan unicorn cloud rainbow girlface raindrops candystore dolphin. Love! Palmtree cat panda, swan puppies puppies and teddy bear! LOL! But then penguin penguin iceberg, polar bear rainbow clouds, universe cosmos lightblue milkyway. Little girl horse neon. Purple and pink, dolphin panda wearing rollerblades. Binder binder backpack.... kittens!


Currently Listening To: Moby
Mood: Unicorn!

Thursday, August 16

powers of ten

(if you've never seen Powers of Ten, go here.)
- - -

At first, you might think that I'm looking at porn...

but I'm really looking at stills from the movie Drumline...

as they appear on Mitt Romney's MySpace page...

which I'm looking at in the Apple Store...

the Apple Store that's part of a roller coaster...

on the island that I own...

the island that I own in the middle of an ocean...

that I got them to build for me, on Mars...

which is somewhere in the solar system...

as it appears on on Wikipedia...

which is so easy, even old people can use it.

Monday, August 13

around the world

If I ever go to China the only words I'm going to learn how to say are handbag and DVD, and then I'm going to run around screaming them until somebody tells me to stop, and then I'll be like "see?"

I'll probably just go home after that.

Thursday, August 9

hero helmet

I've been thinking about doing this for a while, but today will finally introduce a segment called Thank God This Exists, which will highlight one thing that I think is so great while simultaneously showcasing my belief in and love of God. I was going to start with those mailboxes that look like Artoo Detoo, but all things considered I think this is the only way to kick it off....

Guy-Manuel, Thomas Bangalter...
THANK GOD THIS EXISTS !!1!!1111!!!!1!

Tuesday, August 7

we. are. your friends.

so this conversation happened...

Friend, M.D.: how can i figure out how much my cat weighs?
me: um, really?
Friend, M.D.: no no i need to know because i want to switch her over to wet food and i need to know the amount she should be eating
me: but like, you're asking me how to find out how much something weighs?
Friend, M.D.: but i dont have a scale, so i think im screwed
me: get a scale
Friend, M.D.: without a scale!
me: you want to know how to find out how much something weighs, but you don't want the answer to be "use a scale"?
Friend, M.D.: no, I'm saying I don't have a scale
me: is this a riddle?
this is a riddle, right?
Friend, M.D.: does your roommate's cat eat canned food?
me: I'm done with this.
Friend, M.D.: i think its funny that people complain that their cats are finicky
my cat eats anything and everything
me: seriously, stop it.

but then, since I'm such a good friend, I asked another good friend
what he thought she should do...

me: [that conversation]
Max: Tell her to fill a bucket with water and mark a line in the bucket where the surface is. Then get someone to hold the cat completely underwater for about a minute while you make a new line. Calculate the weight by taking the distance between the lines and then throwing the cat in the trash because now it's dead.

Look how much money I saved her.

Thursday, August 2

dream journal, day 4

It is dark in this room, so I'm frightened. Light pours out of a TV in the corner, spilling over a chair and onto the wall. Everything is quiet and I can't see the screen. Out of nowhere, Encyclopedia Brown walks in and says "don't worry, I get that all the time," before I even have the chance to mistake him for Harry Potter. This kid's good. "Come on," he says "we have work to do." A sudden light reveals a baby grand piano hovering a foot off floor. Effortlessly, he boards the piano and, standing on top, floats it over to my side of the dream. I find my piano sea legs, but still wonder how we'll get it out of the room. Brown looks up. The ceiling unfolds to reveal the night sky. The room fills up on moonlight, and now we are flying.

Outside the police precinct.

By now, Brown's told me that we'll have to break in and rescue Locke and Sawyer, but he wont tell me how they got there. Then I remember that Locke is dead, and I know the kid's lying. Great detective work on my part. I wonder if this has to do with him being a wizard, but Brown, muttering unintelligibly, rolls his eyes and shorts my train of thought. He makes his way down the keys. This kid's good, but also, he can read my mind and it's becoming a problem.

We chain the piano to a lamppost nearby. Brown takes two knives out of his bag and hands one to me. I wonder what time it is and he tells me that "it's four thirty-seven." I am going to slap this kid in his mouth the next time he does that. Inside, it's like an episode of TV Copshow and no one notices us slip through and into a hallway. There, I steal a look into a room on the left to see my roommate's cat sitting under an interrogation lamp smoking a cigarette. He mouths "help me," out the door in my direction and a discrete nod lets him know I'm coming back for him. I am not coming back for him.

We reach the end of the hallway and turn left. It is too bright to see here, and the ground is loosening under my suddenly bare feet. "Sand," I think to myself, "it's sand."

"Sand," offers Encyclopedia Brown, "it's sand."
"Yeah, I know. I just--"

Remind me to kill this kid.

My eyes have adjusted, which is how find out that I'm on a beach. There is no sign of the precinct and Brown is gone, but I somehow know that I will see him again, on Facebook. The piano's still here, so I grace the D and E above middle C on my way to the top, but it's fruitless. Piano's feet are buried in the sand, and I can barely make out the chain we used to lock it to the lamppost. "Looks like we're stuck here," I sigh, and caress the piano's weathered lid. He smiles at me like a salesman and says, "at least for now," and starts to play the theme from Perfect Strangers. I try to sing along, but the words never come.