- Bongineering
- Purely sexual relationships
- Master Roshi shares his wisdom
- On Homosexuality
- "Handy" euphemisms for masturbation
- TMoL Christmas Rap
If you do not understand, then you are not ready.
Back in the day (2001-2002), I used to read a site called "True Meaning of Life". It was modeled after Forum2000 and the Conversatron, where anonymous visitors ask questions, and "gurus" subsequently ridicule the submitter. As it turns out, TMoL is still archived for your enjoyment. TMoL had great advice on such things as:
The alarm clock began to beep, and I instinctively hit the snooze button before it could crank up to full annoyance. I hauled myself out of bed and ...
[MEMORY ERROR]
... picked up the rental car ...
[MEMORY ERROR]
... arrived at Yan's house to pick up some things. Yan's place is an interesting little one-story house in the middle of nowhere. To give you an idea of the sparsity of abodes in the countryside, Yan lives eight miles away from my parents' house, and we consider ourselves "neighbors." This isn't strictly true; the closest house from my parents' house is only half a mile away.
Of course, we were enlisted to help load and Yan's mom asked us to take away a number of things, like the forty small packets of soup mix that Jen got, or the gallon tub of Crisco that I wound up burning. We actually wound up burning a lot of things, including a number of things you shouldn't really burn, like foam mattress pads. Hungry from unexpected work, Jen, Yan, and I headed down to the local greasy spoon, the Oasis.
The Oasis is literally the only place to eat for ten miles. That's not to say they slouch with either their service or their food -- both are quite good. Yan and I ordered patty melts. Jen got a cheeseburger. The waitress was actually someone we went to school with. I couldn't remember who she was, but Yan remembered her. We chatted over the welcome meal.
"I've got all those packets," Jen said at one point, "and I don't even cook."
"Yeah, well whose fault is that?" Yan shot back.
"Your mom."
I couldn't help but laugh out loud at the unintentional "your mom" joke. Jen didn't even understand what was so funny for about ten seconds. Yan just sat with a conflicted look on his face, wanting to laugh but not wanting to admit defeat. We finished the meal and headed back out to Yan's place before finally hitting the road.
We saw Over The Hedge tonight. It was alright, but the surrounding events are probably of more interest to you. Oh, also, if you're interested in knowing about the trip to Missouri, Yan has something of a photo journal covering some of it. I'll tell y'all more about it here as I hash it through the story-o-tron.
Sachin was driving us all to the movies, and he gave me a call saying he was coming to pick me up. I go wait outside, and wait for him. Unfortunately, I've never seen his car, so I'm looking for anyone driving by. A car stops right in front of my place, so I walk over and open the door to get in. I'm about half-way in the car when I realize the driver isn't Sachin. "What the fuck?" he says. I back out with an apology, and the guy leaves, rather perturbed.
After the movie, we snuck in and saw the last five minutes of X3, where Ed was watching it. On the ride home, Sachin says to me,
"I think I'm the only person who calls Illinois 'Illinoise'."
I respond, "That's because we killed everyone else who said it that way."
That's right. Pronounce it the right way, or we'll bury you in the corn fields.
I rattled off the list with calm precision, knowing that the man behind the counter was no ordinary fast-food buffoon. He was a Cleric in the Holy Church of White Castle, and would take my order with the dilligence and professionalism I've come to expect from such an establishment.
"I'll have fourteen white castles, three cheeseburgers, a small chocolate shake, and two ice waters."
The man took all this in coolly, stopping for a moment to nod to himself as though to say, "Yeah, that's just about right." It felt as though the man already knew what I was going to order -- he merely needed to hear me speak the correct incantation.
"That'll be $10.75," the man replied.
I swiped my debit card, punched in my pin, and sat down with Jen and Yan, who had already chosen a table.
I'll get back to the White Castle in due time. For you see, similarly to a popular movie, the White Castle was the final stop on our journey. Narratively speaking, however, this opening exchange at White Castle makes a much better introduction. :) I'll have the rest of the story later, but right now, I need to shower and sleep.
As I was getting my daily dose of Antonio's for lunch today, I noticed the usual cutie behind the counter was wearing a very interesting T-shirt. It said, "Love is friendship set on fire." I couldn't find the shirt online, but the graphic is identical to this bag with the text below the image. This also led me to Angry Little Girls. Unfortunately, since I'm not an angsty teenage white girl, I find it mediocre at best.
I got rained on for the third time in three days. You'd think, "Well, why don't you bring an umbrella with you?" This is a very good observation, except for two points:
- I don't own an umbrella, and,
- I don't plan on getting an umbrella because I'd keep giving them to cute girls who got caught in the rain and need it more than I do, thus causing me to go broke and wind up wet, anyway.
Yeah, I'm that sad/romantic. But speaking of things that are disgusting, I saw a rather large guy on a mountain bike, wearing all the pads, helmet, and requisite armor for traveling down a mountain, doing about five miles an hour down the quad, and with an ass crack hanging out that would embarrass a professional plumber. I would have a picture for you, but 1) it's hard to aim a camera while clawing at your own eyes, and 2) Fat Ass-Cleavage Sporting Choads On Bikes have feelings, too.
AGH! MY EYES!
The chill of winter came to the kingdom, and while Rapunzel was well
provided for (one can't be too isolated and still be royalty, after
all), the steady stream of stuffed shirts slowed to a trickle, then
stopped altogether. Rapunzel was delighted at her first day without the
usual vociferous interruption. This delight lasted until the sunset of
the third day. It was then that she felt something new -- a bitter
something that had been bred out of her through seven generations of
royal privelige. Loneliness.
She slept restlessly that night, giving in to fears that were previously unable to invade her walled-in mind. She remembered stories from her childhood about bandits who roamed the woods at night, and tales of killer bears who could tear a man to shreds. All those things had seemed fanciful and exciting as a child, but now they became grotesque and disturbing nightmares. As the birds began to sing and the first lights of dawn came up from the horizon, she fell victim to exhaustion and fell asl-
"Hallooo up there!"
Rapunzel allowed herself a brief moment of disbelief before she hauled herself up to the window, exhausted, but relieved at the chance to break the monotony by dishing out a little verbal abuse. Unfortunately, in her state, a sharp "What!?" was all she could muster. The restless night had done no favors for her appearance, either. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in several places, heavy bags drooped below her eyes, and she squinted in the early morning light. My Little Pony pajamas provided curious counterpoint to her disheveled appearance.
"Oh no, I've made a horrible mistake!" The man bellowed. "I was looking for a tower with a young woman inside, but it seems I've stumbled upon the home of a fearsome dragon! Please don't char-broil me with your fearsome fire-breath!"
Rapunzel groaned and rolled her eyes. "Please don't tell me you came all this way just to heckle me..."
"Of course not, don't flatter yourself. Your tower is merely on my regular trade route."
"And in what wares, pray tell, do you trade? Asinine remarks and snarky comebacks?"
"It's a pity I don't, I could keep quite well stocked by coming back here once a fortnight."
"Hah. You're funny." Rapunzel let out a loud yawn, then looked down at the man again. I'd love to continue this little conversation, but I desperately need some sleep."
"Ah, so you've got the whole sleeping beauty bit going on, too?"
Rapunzel rolled her eyes. "You're an asshole."
"And you're a crazy woman who's locked herself up in a tower." With that, the man smiled sarcastically and drove his cart off towards the castle.
This morning, at approximately 8am, I rebooted one of our more important machines to install a new kernel. Well, sort of a new kernel. An older kernel with Lustre patches, and some driver hacks I did myself to port newer drivers to the older kernel. Not exactly what I'd call a surefire disaster, but certainly not the sturdiest platform off which one might go jumping. Long story short, the upgrade goes well, and the new (old) kernel is humming along nicely. I'm minding my own business at about 5pm, when I'm interrupted by...
*BEEP*
Kernel BUG at "mm/rmap.c":493 invalid operand: 0000 [1] SMP Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040
Huh?
*BEEP*
Oops: 0000 [2] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040
Uh oh.
*BEEP* *BEEP*
Oops: 0000 [3] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040 Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [4] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040
FUCK.
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP*
Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [5] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040 Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [6] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040 Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [7] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040 Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [8] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040 Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [9] SMP Unable to handle kernel NULL pointer dereference at 0000000000000040 Oops: 0000 [10] SMP CR2: 0000000000000040
<darth type="Hayden Christiansen"> NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! </darth>
For those not familiar with this, what you are seeing is a Linux kernel going down in flames. Hard. I might also mention that these messages showed up on every terminal attached to the machine, which means that everyone who was logged in saw it go down, beeping violently in its death throes. My grand experiment crashed and burned, aired to all, and so, Lustre isn't quite so shiny anymore.
*BEEP*
GAAH!
If you haven't heard, there's a new Super Smash Bros. coming out for the Wii (FTW?). The game will involve a few new characters: Metaknight (from the Kirby games), Pit (from Kid Icarus), Zero Suit Samus (which is just hot), Wario, and... wait for it... Solid Snake.
Now, I'm sure some of you are thinking, "Wait, isn't Solid Snake a Konami property? What's he doing in there?" He's being a Bad Ass Motherfucker, that's what he's doing in there. Snake is the only man who can not only sport a mullet, but also look like The Dread Pirate Geraldo , and still be totally freaking awesome. Apparently, Hideo Kojima "practically begged" Nintendo to include Snake, and that he approached them about it when Super Smash Bros. Melee was in production, but it was too far along for it to be viable to add it. If you haven't watched the trailer for it, do so. It's rather humorous. :)
Oh, that song? That was done by Nobuo Uematsu. You may know him from every freaking song from every Final Fantasy, ever. Nintendo is also in talks with Sega and Capcom to include Sonic the Hedgehog and Mega Man. C'mon, tell me with a straight face that that would not be ten thousand tons of awesome. That's right, you can't. Deep down inside, you've always wondered what it would be like if you could pit Mario against Sonic, or Mega Man against Samus. That dream is coming true.
So, right now, it's really good to be a Nintendo fanboy. If Satoru Iwata came out tomorrow, and said, "Y'know what? We're going to charge $750 for the Wii," a lot of people would pony up the cash, because what they've shown us at E3 is just that awesome. I am actually excited about it, and I haven't been able to say that about a video game system since the NES came out.
Pardon me, I've got to change my drool bucket.
Once upon a time, there was a beautiful maiden in a far off kingdom. Her beauty was legendary across the land, as was the wealth she stood to inherit -- her father had sired no sons, and any successful suitor would eventually come to rule the kingdom. This put the fair lady in a bit of a bind. With every possible man she met harboring an ulterior motive punctuated with dollar signs, she quickly became tired of these men, her father, and the entire male gender. In a furiously resourceful tirade of unbridled adolescence, she locked herself up in a tower of her own design, and threw away the key. Oh, yes... the maiden's name was Rapunzel.
The tower afforded her a measure of tranquility for a time, but it was not long before she was bombarded yet again by fortune-seeking would-be husbands. One day, just as she was settling down to read the thrilling conclusion to Neal Stephenson's "Cryptonomicon," she heard a call at her window.
"Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your golden hair! I've come to save you from the desolation of your loneliness!"
You see, there was some rumor about that poor Rapunzel had had her heart broken by some knave seeking the crown, and had isolated herself up there in mourning. Rumor also had it that her hair had assumed rope-like proportions because she refused to cut it until she descended from the tower. Needless to say, neither of these rumors were true.
"Fuck you!" Rapunzel bellowed down to the stunned man below. Every time another suitor came along, the scene played out largely the same.
One day, however, a man who was very clearly lost happened upon Rapunzel's tower. Seeing her through the window, he spoke with the mistaken assumption that she could help him.
"Excuse me, miss! I was wondering if you could tell me the way to Engelstadt?"
"Fuck you!" she roared back reflexively. Stunned, the man paused for a moment.
"I'm sorry... did you just scream an insult down at me for asking directions?"
"So what if I did? You're not here looking for directions, anyway."
"I'm not?"
"No, you came here looking for me."
"I did?"
"And I will not be had!"
"I see... so what you're saying is that you're a paranoid psychotic who lives in a tower, and flings curses at everyone who walks by because you think they're here looking for you."
"I... I... I'm a princess, you know! I don't have to take this from you!"
"Ah, so you're also a princess? That's neat. I guess you don't know the way to Engelstadt, then?"
"No, and I wouldn't tell you if you did!"
"Alright, have fun up there." The man made a circular motion with his index finger pointing towards his head as he left.
"I saw that!"
To Be Continued...
Tonight I went to Esquire Lounge and The Blind Pig with Erickson and Krystal. A humorous conversation to kick this one off:
[me] Bar Louie ain't got nothing on either of them.
[Jen] except for distance
[me] It's worth the walk, trust me. :)
[Jen] true...but when you don't have time to walk...
[me] You take the MTD?
[Jen] if you don't trust the MTD time tables AND you don't have time to walk...
[me] You make friends with someone who has a car and no willingness to drink?
[Jen] if you're antisocial AND you don't trust the time tables AND you don't have time to walk
[me] Then you drink and eat at home.
[Jen] but with laziness?
[me] Hot pockets, frozen chimichangas and a PBR.
Esquire has won awards, and I see why. It has a pleasant atmosphere, reasonable prices, and excellent service. Krystal's pizza was a bit late arriving to the table, and no less than three people apologized for it. Unlike most campus bars, the music was at a tolerable level, and they were playing Radiohead. This, I could get used to.
Afterwards, we traveled about 20 feet north to The Blind Pig. The place is a beer bar, which is to say that they specialize in beer. They have probably 15 beers on tap, as well as an extensive selection of bottled microbrews and imports. I had a pint of jalapeño ale that was quite good. I actually had a conversation with the cute female bartender about this unique brew, which is not something that has ever happened to me before.
Overall, I think both places cater to a more mature audience than other places I've been. James said, "You're an old man, you get to drink at the grown-ups table!" I think Erickson said it best when he said, "You know it's a good bar when the waitresses have nametags instead of numbers." Indeed.
So it looks like I'll be spending a lot of time there over the summer. If anyone else knows any good bars I should try, let me know.