Welcome back. I know you have all been faithfully checking my blog several times a day, hoping—nay, praying that I would update again and once more enrich your lives with my sarcastic humor, and rugged good looks that are somehow perceptible in my writing. Well your dreams are about to come true again (light glints off my carefully-cultivated 5-o'clock shadow as I type this).
Today I am here to explain to you the setup in one of my aquariums. Sound boring? Well, it isn't, so stuh-foo. During my brief hiatus, I picked up a hobby of keeping fish. But do I keep regular, boring fish in a regular, boring manner? Perish the thought. I present to you: The Alpha Quadrant.
On the left is Romulan Space, and on the right
is Federation Space. The mesh between
is, of course, the neutral zone.
The two fish involved are Bettas, of course. Which means that if they were not separated, they would already have fought to the death. Let me introduce you.
Romulan. He really does bleed
green. I know. I checked.
Online.
While Romulan has yet to display any cloaking technology, he is quite good at calmly ticking off the Federation.
This is Federation. And yes,
those really are their
names.
I'm fully aware that I have brought more awesome into the fishkeeping hobby than you thought possible. You're welcome.
New year, new font. Also, the editor I upgraded to doesn't include Lucida Grande. I have a strange feeling of déjà vu right now, which means I probably already told you this.
Anyway, this is the Mormon Facebook Drinking Game. Get a friend, a couple of shot glasses that you bought ironically at a gift shop somewhere, and a two-liter of Coke. Caffeinated. That's right, we're playing this hardcore.
Before you begin: Post a funny quote from any recent (post 2007) SNL video as your status.
Round 1: Go through all the status updates on the front page of your live feed.
-For every one that includes the words "procrastinate," or "homework," do a shot.
-For every one that is something dramatic and sympathy/attention-seeking, do two shots. -For every one that is an un-cited MLIA post, do three shots.
Round 2: Go through all the "Name has become a fan of 'something'" posts on the front page of your live feed.
-For every one that is a sentence with the "I hate/love it when (insert something really specific here) happens" format, do a shot. -For every one that fits the above description, and has at least one word misspelled, do two shots. -For every one that fits both of the above descriptions, and one of the misspelled words is "your" instead of "you're," do three shots.
Round 3: Tally up all the people who have chatted to you since the beginning of Round 1.
-For every person that you have never talked to outside of Facebook, do a shot. -For every person that started the conversation with "what's up?" do two shots. -For every person that discontinued the conversation after replying "nm" or "just chillin" to your "nothing really, how about you?" do three shots.
Round 4: Check the comments on your status that you posted at the beginning.
-For every person who was too lazy to actually comment, and just "liked" your status, do a shot. -For every person who commented with something like "hahaha" or "lol I love SNL," do two shots. -For every person who didn't recognize the source of the quote, but commented anyway, do three shots.
Round 5: Go to: http://www.facebook.com/#/photos/?ref=sb (Photo app page)
-For every album entitled "random pix" or some such thing, do a shot. -For every album entitled "me" or something similar, do two shots. If the album picture is a mirror photo, do a chaser. -For every album that has the word "piknik" in the title, drink the rest of the bottle.
First of all, I have had to change my default font (Lucida Grande) to a new one (Verdana). The new post editor doesn't have Lucida Grande anymore. Just a snippet.
So, I promised myself that I would not become one of those bloggers that neglects their blog for a month, then posts a really short thing to relieve their conscience, then ignores their blog for another month. But the truth is, I have a ridiculously small amount of free time right now, and what little time I DO spend blogging is usually my one-post-a-day photo blog, because apparently my photography is more interesting than the rest of my life (what I'm saying is that I have real followers on that blog, who expect a daily post). Anyway, excuses, excuses. Here's what my friends commented on one of my status updates on Facebook.
Thank you Kurt, Destin, and Matt for making my life funnier.
Onward to another topic that I will cram into this post, even though it is completely unrelated. My school does a Madrigal Dinner every December. If you don't know what that is, I won't try to explain it. Just come. I'll sell you tickets. But one of the quirks of being in the Chamber choir is that I don't have to serve people food. I just have to entertain them. This year, I specifically requested the role of "Master of the Salt." Why? Because I get to trade salt for action. Yes, to get salt, you must kiss me on the cheek. Unless you're a dude. Tonight, after the choir finished Madrigal Dinner, we went down to Orem to sing a gig for Tahitian Noni's annual company Christmas party. I got a ride with a friend, so my car sat in the Lone Peak lot for about an hour. Upon my return to Lone Peak, I noticed that someone had written in car marker on my rear windshield: "I was gonna lick your face."
Hilarious and awesome, yes. But I don't know who did it. Usually I could figure out who did something like that. But none of my suspects were there tonight. So if you know anything, let me know. I'm pretty curious.
Sorry for going so long without updating. I've been very focused on my photography blog lately, but I don't intend to stop writing this blog.
We have dictionaries for everything. Except Teen-to-English. I plan to remedy that. It will be more useful than a Swahili-to-Navajo dictionary, anyway. The main difference between this dictionary and the rag Mr. Webster produces is that I not only include words with translations, but entire phrases! Here's the format:
Teenage Word
Translation thereof
Prepare to understand teenagers better.
Legit, Tight, Sick, Rad
Generally positive
Weak, Lame, Crap, Gay
Generally negative
Lyfe
Life
Hateeeee
Hate
"Shut up!"
"I disbelieve you."
"Music is my life."
"I occasionally listen to the All-American Rejects."
"I like all kinds of music."
"I occasionally listen to the All-American Rejects."
"I love photography."
"I own a Nikon Coolpix because Ashton Kutcher is attractive."
"I hate drama."
"I love drama."
"I am an open person."
"If you say 'gay' in front of me, I will get mad at you."
"I don't judge people by the color of their skin."
"If you voted for McCain, you're racist."
"I love poetry."
"I write mediocre poetry, but don't read anyone else's."
"I love reading."
"I love reading Twilight."
"I'm waiting for my Romeo to sweep me off my feet."
"I'm antisocial and can't get a date, so I hide on social networking sites. Furthermore, I have never read Shakespeare."
That concludes the sneak-preview. I don't know why the formatting on the page is so screwed up. Stupid Blogger CSS. I'll end with another shameless advertisement for my photo blog.
In honor of the late purveyor of OxiClean, Mighty Putty, Kaboom!, and many other household essentials, I decided to dedicate my 2009 Jack-o'-Lantern experience to none other than Billy Mays. May he rest in peace.
Notice the all-caps
In other news, I've started a photo blog. On the off chance that you care, it's been added to my links section.
As we learned from Michael Phelps, every record, no matter how insane, will eventually be broken. We also learned that you won't get in that much trouble for experimenting with marijuana as long as you're famous, but I'll save the other applications of that lesson for another post.
Following my introduction is a short list of records I didn't think could be broken... and how they were.
#1. Most Bricks Karate-Chopped through
I imagine at one point, this record belonged to some neanderthal, who, in a drunken prehistoric rage, hit the wall of his rock hut, and brought it smashing down to the ground. His tribe-mates heard about the feat, and probably held some sort of contest to see who could smash the most rocks. I like to imagine that one of the larger, beefier cavemen (who also probably had the largest beard) won that contest, and was awarded the rock crown that symbolized leadership. Then all the other cavemen had to bring him mammoth meat while he sat on his stone throne, a rhyme which I'm sure neanderthals wouldn't appreciate. Eventually, the wheel was invented, and then iron, electricity, and Twitter. Somewhere along the line, this pastime became much more civilized, with contenders smashing bricks and cinder blocks rather than rough stones. But I digress. I'm here to show you some sick videos, so that's what I'm going to do.
As you can see, this man goes through 90 concrete blocks in 16 seconds. I'll be honest; I have nothing witty to say about that. Here's an even better video:
This video is all the more impressive because the man doesn't even hit the bricks. He first shouts at them, presumably to both weaken their structural integrity and instill deep in their souls a sense of fear. Then he taps the topmost brick with his hand, and the rest crumple in a comical, domino-like implosion of shame.
#2. Most Books Typed Backwards
Michele Santelia has typed 67 books backwards, using four unmarked keyboards (one with English characters, one with Hebrew, one Chinese, and one Etruscan). Here is an actual transcript of the phone call placed by Mr. Santelia to report his "success" to the good people at the Guinness Book of World Records.
Guinness Operator: Hello, and welcome to the Guinness Book of World Records claims hotline. We are currently not accepting claims of having broken the most consecutive pogo-stick jumps record, the largest gum bubble record, or longest fingernails record, due to the fact that nobody cares. How can I help you? Santelia: Yes, I've just finished typing my 67th book backwards. Guinness: You've... hang on, what? Santelia: I typed 67 books backwards. Guinness: Are you serious? You want in for something as stupid as that? Get a hobby, man! Go put snails on your face, or walk on coals for a mile, or... or something! Santelia: So can I be in the book? Guinness: Absolutely. I'll inform my superiors immediately.And how long did this take you, sir? Santelia: Don't worry about it. Guinness: Gotcha.
The most disturbing part about the record listing, though, is its conspicuous lack of a time listing. They won't tell us how long it took Santelia to accomplish this task. Which forces me to assume it took well over a fortnight. I know that's an understatement, but I really wanted to use the word "fortnight." This automatically grants Santelia two further records: "Longest waste of time," and "Stupidest waste of time." Ironically, this also makes him a serious contender for the "Most Guinness Book of World Records awards held" record.
But wait! Did I say waste of time? No, as you can see here, Santelia has been selling his "works." What man who considers himself a serious scholar wouldn't want to add "The Tragedy of Macbeth Backwards" to his collection of refined literature? I can see it now... Stephen Hawking lovingly places his copy on the bookshelf, labeling that row "eraepsekahS mailliW" with a single, electronic chuckle. And somewhere in Italy, Santelia rolls around with $31.08 in $1 bills floating through the air around him.
#3. Stupidest Scammer Alive
After my first round of Senegal scammage, I have received numerous emails of the same variety. On a whim yesterday, I decided to answer another one for kicks. The reply was even more excellent than my last one. It was also significantly longer, so I'll only post highlights.
Like I said my name is Franca Aburey,I'm from Liberia in Monrovia the capital of my country in west Africa, I'm 26 years old,I'm fair in complexion, 1.62 feet in height.
Wow! I think you have... wait for it... BIGGER problems than your locked up finances.
i attach my picture here to show you who i am and i will also be expecting your own picture in your next mail.
So, here are the pictures Franca attached for me. I'm completely serious.
Excellent style, Franca. Once again, this screams "refugee in Senegal." Luckily, the hostel you're staying in has a professional photographer, and, evidently, a professional signature forger, who specializes in American photography company logos.
As excellent as this photo is, I believe the next one to be even more enlightening.
Um... what? Okay, I just added "professional florist" to the list of hostel employees, and Mr. Forgery has really been busy. All sarcasm aside, I honestly don't understand how this is supposed to give me any kind of information on what Franca looks like. Maybe she's trying to charm me with a picture of something vaguely feminine? I'm at a loss here.
Fortunately, I have a plan on exactly what to send back. As Franca expects a picture from me, the message will consist of just that... a picture. Here are some candidates.
I debated putting the "Royal" signature on this one
Dramatization
Almost as vague as roses and a candle
So, everyone (saying "everyone" makes it sound like I have a lot of readers), those are your choices. I need you to vote in the comments. More on this story later. I'm still hoping to troll one of these scammers into breaking their cover.
Okay. Story time. Gather around the metaphorical Blog rug. Everyone have your vanilla wafers? Here we go.
Once upon a time, I was trying to start my car this morning at about 6:15 so it could be warmed up and ready to go by 6:30, when I needed to leave for Seminary. Unfortunately, the engine wouldn't turn over. This was not particularly surprising, as the car is older than me, and held together with spit and prayers. So I popped the hood to take a look. Lo and behold, a LIVE TREE SQUIRREL was sitting on my engine block, staring me down.
"I dare you to do something about this," it said sassily. Except it couldn't really talk, except just pretend, okay?
"This is MY house."
I responded with a swift Z-Snap, and a resounding, "oh no you DITN'T!" I moon-walked to my garage to get on a pair of work gloves with which to remove the squirrel from my car with minimal risk of rabies and/or squirrel flu. When I came back, the squirrel scampered down into the undercarriage. It was out of reach, but I could still see its beady little eye. Staring at me. Mocking me. Right then, I almost got back in the car to make squirrel pâté. But my inner hippie vetoed this motion and I conceded defeat... for now. I took the Suburban to school.
When I got home, I checked out my engine block and my undercarriage carefully. It seemed squirrel-free, so I tried starting the car again. Nothing. The engine still wouldn't turn over. So. If the squirrel chewed through some wire or something else that would destroy my car... I'll just say I hope it was insta-fried down to a few moles of carbon, and blown by the wind right into Utah Lake.
The score stands at Squirrel: 2, Andrew: 0 right now. But I will have my revenge. And, heaven willing, get my car running again.
