I just got some new underwear this weekend, and I must say, I am completely pleased. I have been wearing underwear for a while now, and I'd like to think I'm pretty good at it. (Although, occasionally I do make mistakes. Once, more recently than I'd like to admit, I put my boxers on backwards. The urinal was completely off limits that day.) There are times that I'd like to mention things about underwear, but for whatever reason, underwear is pretty sexualized. I think that's a bit extreme. It'd be like saying that a guy who climbs Mount Everest once is a big time mountain climber. I've spent a lot of time with science, I want to see some repeatability, killer.
I would probably say that for the average person, underwear's day to day role is much less sexual than the media would lead us to believe. I'm pretty sure it's mostly so you keep sweat and stuff off your real clothes. And to let you have a chance to wear something that has dollar signs on it. (Sadly, I don't actually have money boxers. I wish I did.)
I might have underwear questions. And they might not be sexual in nature. Like, for example, what's the deal with the hybrid boxer-briefs? There is no way that they seem competitive with the full-on boxer shorts. Also, are the people who are wearing briefs later in life just afraid to try something new? How many people try boxers, but decide they hate freedom and go back? I want statistics on that. But this isn't polite conversation. Even though asking something like, "Do my cutoffs go with this blazer?" might be a little less controversial.
This is to say nothing about the feminine sorts of underwear. But they seem even more sexualized. Bras, for example. There are some girls who probably could get on without them, but they still insist on it. Is that because of social pressure? An excess of pride? A safeguard against turning into a human thermometer? You can't ask that question out loud.
And I think that's bunk. I would like to know what sorts of personal decisions go into electing between boy shorts and panties for girls. Is it similar to the issues weighed for boxers and briefs with guys? Or is it usually a sexualized decision? How often to girls top and bottom underwears match? That doesn't even come up with us! (Actually, I guess I only speak for those of us who are not transvestites.)
I think the biggest question is about the boxer-briefs. The more I think about it, it seems like the worst of both worlds. And is it really necessary to put those douchey looking underwear models on the cover of every underwear package? I know what it's supposed to look like.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Wow, he's fat and he sucks (No, I'm not talking about Michael Moore)
I don't really like to talk about sports much, but I dislike Notre Dame just enough to pile on a little. This school decided that they should cut Ty Willingham loose after three years (the general rule of thumb for a college coach is four) and built Charlie Weis a giant treasure chest full of money and fried chicken, and it turns out that he's just not that good of a coach.
For those of you not so sports inclined, it would be like if a major movie studio that nobody likes, like Universal or Fox, decided in 1992 to invest a ten year contract in Kevin Costner. That's right after Robin Hood and Dances with Wolves, which made him gigantic, after he had a string of big movies with things like No Way Out, Field of Dreams and Bull Durham. At first it would look pretty good, because Tin Cup was fun, JFK was big and so was The Bodyguard. After that, though, people started noticing that he's not a terribly talented guy. He has a very Keanuish approach to line delivery (which reminds me -- I finally saw the third Matrix and it was awful. I would have rather watched a movie about a school full of monkeys competing in track and field) and is getting old, so you're not even going to get the women in their early thirties going to see movies he's in because he's in them. People in their early forties don't go out as much to the movies.
On top of being not talented, he started making movies like Waterworld and the Postman and 3000 Miles to Graceland. Not exactly the Untouchables, there Kevin. Then again, he had Sean Connery and Robert DeNiro in that movie with him, so it wouldn't be hard to pretend you can act a little around them.
So, Notre Dame is stuck with Charlie Weis and he just made Waterworld. Ty Willingham at least looks like he's improving, rather than claiming to be somebody who could outscheme anybody and literally being last in total offense. Kevin Costner wasn't that big of a bastard. His offense hasn't scored a touchdown yet. It's been three weeks! Is there anything funnier than laughing at arrogant people getting their comeuppance? I submit that there is not.
For those of you not so sports inclined, it would be like if a major movie studio that nobody likes, like Universal or Fox, decided in 1992 to invest a ten year contract in Kevin Costner. That's right after Robin Hood and Dances with Wolves, which made him gigantic, after he had a string of big movies with things like No Way Out, Field of Dreams and Bull Durham. At first it would look pretty good, because Tin Cup was fun, JFK was big and so was The Bodyguard. After that, though, people started noticing that he's not a terribly talented guy. He has a very Keanuish approach to line delivery (which reminds me -- I finally saw the third Matrix and it was awful. I would have rather watched a movie about a school full of monkeys competing in track and field) and is getting old, so you're not even going to get the women in their early thirties going to see movies he's in because he's in them. People in their early forties don't go out as much to the movies.
On top of being not talented, he started making movies like Waterworld and the Postman and 3000 Miles to Graceland. Not exactly the Untouchables, there Kevin. Then again, he had Sean Connery and Robert DeNiro in that movie with him, so it wouldn't be hard to pretend you can act a little around them.
So, Notre Dame is stuck with Charlie Weis and he just made Waterworld. Ty Willingham at least looks like he's improving, rather than claiming to be somebody who could outscheme anybody and literally being last in total offense. Kevin Costner wasn't that big of a bastard. His offense hasn't scored a touchdown yet. It's been three weeks! Is there anything funnier than laughing at arrogant people getting their comeuppance? I submit that there is not.
Monday, September 10, 2007
It's not quite a love poem, but they are tubers, after all
Sometimes when I perform an activity that I had not done for a long time, I am reminded at how wonderful that experience was and get angry with myself for not doing it more often. Watching Wayne's World is one of them. I love Wayne's World; both the movies and the SNL sketch. But I can't remember the last time I watched any of them.
I made mashed potatoes with dinner tonight. They were glorious. I don't know why I don't eat them multiple times a day. I don't know why this was the first time I've done it since I moved to Augusta. I hate myself a little for not eating them more. You know how sometimes you eat an entire five pound bag of fun size Snickers bars and then, bloated and hurting inside, wonder why you did that? It's like that, except the complete opposite. I want to invite them to my wedding. (For food, although making mashed potatoes a groomsman is not completely out of the question.)
I am now going to make short list of Chuck Norris style quotations expressing my opinions of mashed potatoes.
I made mashed potatoes with dinner tonight. They were glorious. I don't know why I don't eat them multiple times a day. I don't know why this was the first time I've done it since I moved to Augusta. I hate myself a little for not eating them more. You know how sometimes you eat an entire five pound bag of fun size Snickers bars and then, bloated and hurting inside, wonder why you did that? It's like that, except the complete opposite. I want to invite them to my wedding. (For food, although making mashed potatoes a groomsman is not completely out of the question.)
I am now going to make short list of Chuck Norris style quotations expressing my opinions of mashed potatoes.
- They should give heroin addicts mashed potatoes instead of methadone, that would eliminate drug addictions everywhere.
- If Blowpop made a mashed potato flavored lollipop, we'd still be hearing about them.
- At football games, they should sell mashed potato hats like they sell beer hats. I would buy two.
- In Soviet Russia, potatoes mash you!
- I am going to start dipping instant mashed potatoes, when the real thing is unattainable.
- When I die, I hope it's a mob hit where I am fitted with cement shoes and thrown into a vat of butter mashed potatoes to sleep with the chives.
- The Egyptians should have built the pyramids out of mashed potatoes.
- In the future, instead of butter I will top my mashed potatoes with mashed potatoes.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
He's probably a three monther
I'm sure you've probably heard somebody say, "She's a twenty-footer," meaning this hypothetical she looks rather attractive from any distance, so long as it's greater than twenty feet. Thirty feet, for example. I personally don't like this scale, because it kind of breaks down for good looking people, the kind of people at whom one would actually enjoy looking. What do you say when you meet someone who is actually hot? She's a one incher? Do we get into microscopic scales? I hope not, because the only way that could be lamer would be to say, "She's a 9.314159."
A friend of mine proposed using poker hands to describe the relative attractivity of girls, but it didn't really catch on, unfortunately. The beauty of this system is that two pair may sound low, but you typically bet on a two pair. There's a very high ceiling; like the girl in your class might be really hot, and so you could say she's a full house. And that's almost a no lose situation. I think someone like Maria Sharapova would be somewhere like four of a kind. How many straight flushes have you seen in real life? One maybe? See how perfect a system this was?
Anyway, Fred Thompson just announced that he's running for president. I give him about three months before he blends into the noise. This looked like a really compelling group of candidates early in the election. But now that we get to spend time with them, they all look horribly, horribly flawed. We are already within the time range for like all of them. Except Thompson. We'll see how long that goes.
All right, if I'm going to bring up these scales, I think I owe you a picture, possibly to illustrate. Keeping with the tennis theme, I present a possible new tennis crush, Ana Ivanovic, who is at worst, a king high flush.
This makes me a little bit uncomfortable, though, because this is the first celebrity crush who is younger than me. I'm feeling old. But I have a blog, and that makes me hip, right?
A friend of mine proposed using poker hands to describe the relative attractivity of girls, but it didn't really catch on, unfortunately. The beauty of this system is that two pair may sound low, but you typically bet on a two pair. There's a very high ceiling; like the girl in your class might be really hot, and so you could say she's a full house. And that's almost a no lose situation. I think someone like Maria Sharapova would be somewhere like four of a kind. How many straight flushes have you seen in real life? One maybe? See how perfect a system this was?
Anyway, Fred Thompson just announced that he's running for president. I give him about three months before he blends into the noise. This looked like a really compelling group of candidates early in the election. But now that we get to spend time with them, they all look horribly, horribly flawed. We are already within the time range for like all of them. Except Thompson. We'll see how long that goes.
All right, if I'm going to bring up these scales, I think I owe you a picture, possibly to illustrate. Keeping with the tennis theme, I present a possible new tennis crush, Ana Ivanovic, who is at worst, a king high flush.
This makes me a little bit uncomfortable, though, because this is the first celebrity crush who is younger than me. I'm feeling old. But I have a blog, and that makes me hip, right?
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I only have so many shrimps
I can't remember if I wrote this already. I hope I didn't. I've been thinking about it a while and with all the drama of starting work and finishing with school I can't remember and I am far too lazy to go too far back and check. If it is a repeat, yell at me and I'll get you another post, lickety-split. Or in two shakes of a lammy's tail, whichever is faster.
I like to eat things that have other things in them. Like pastas with chicken or seafood, cereals with marshmallows or shrimp and garlic sauce, that staple of Chinese restaurants that have pictures for menus. It's a pretty convenient menu system, when you think about it, and I still think it's a little bit funny that they always have pictures of spareribs on them. Spareribs just aren't the sort of thing that I think of as Chinese food. Even though I'm told that there is not that much that is "Chinese" about it. Funny how Americans can remake the food culture of a country with a billion people into their own. We are such an awesome people, I wish I were something else so I could choose to become American.
When I eat those things, though, I like to have a relatively even distribution of the things that are in the thing. I try to spread out the things throughout the meal because I hate having the
the last bite of any meal not have a bite of the special ingredient. The Chicken Alfredo is called that because of the chicken, the shrimp and garlic sauce has the same deal, and where do you think all the luck in the Lucky Charms come from? If I wanted bites of Alfredo, I would have ordered it without the chicken. If I wanted to eat Lucky Charms without the marshmallows, I would crumble pieces of my cork bulletin board off into a bowl of milk. And I don't want that.
Also, eating two shrimp in one bite is completely unacceptable. That would be a completely irresponsible decision. Occasionally a bite with no shrimp or chicken may be required, but so long as there are pieces left for later bites. Mostly, I think people who want to eat all their shrimp right away are sociopaths. Those are the kinds of people who, like the foolish grasshopper, eat all of their food in the spring. I, like the wise ant, store a little bit for the winter so I can enjoy shrimp throughout the entire meal. And it was delicious.
I like to eat things that have other things in them. Like pastas with chicken or seafood, cereals with marshmallows or shrimp and garlic sauce, that staple of Chinese restaurants that have pictures for menus. It's a pretty convenient menu system, when you think about it, and I still think it's a little bit funny that they always have pictures of spareribs on them. Spareribs just aren't the sort of thing that I think of as Chinese food. Even though I'm told that there is not that much that is "Chinese" about it. Funny how Americans can remake the food culture of a country with a billion people into their own. We are such an awesome people, I wish I were something else so I could choose to become American.
When I eat those things, though, I like to have a relatively even distribution of the things that are in the thing. I try to spread out the things throughout the meal because I hate having the
the last bite of any meal not have a bite of the special ingredient. The Chicken Alfredo is called that because of the chicken, the shrimp and garlic sauce has the same deal, and where do you think all the luck in the Lucky Charms come from? If I wanted bites of Alfredo, I would have ordered it without the chicken. If I wanted to eat Lucky Charms without the marshmallows, I would crumble pieces of my cork bulletin board off into a bowl of milk. And I don't want that.
Also, eating two shrimp in one bite is completely unacceptable. That would be a completely irresponsible decision. Occasionally a bite with no shrimp or chicken may be required, but so long as there are pieces left for later bites. Mostly, I think people who want to eat all their shrimp right away are sociopaths. Those are the kinds of people who, like the foolish grasshopper, eat all of their food in the spring. I, like the wise ant, store a little bit for the winter so I can enjoy shrimp throughout the entire meal. And it was delicious.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
The radio is the window to the soul
Since I have very little patience for the foolish whimsy of today's youth's taste in music, I usually have a classic rock station on one of the presets in my radio. In each place that I have lived, there has been a go to song or a couple of songs that get way too much airplay. Any song by Styx would fit in here (yes, even Mr. Roboto -- Dennis DeYoung is a crazy person, by the way).
Back home in the VC, they played a lot of George Thorogood. He's a pretty tough rocker who made the Bo Diddley Beat famous to a whole new generation (Bo Diddley's Who Do You Love is way better, but of course, saying that the original blues song by a black guy is better than the white boy cover is like saying "I prefer the smell of cinnamon to that of flaming skunks"). He's also from Delaware, which just doesn't really jive with the image of Bad to the Bone, does it? Do they even have guitars in Delaware?
In the Haute, you could not get into the car and tune into 105.9 the River and not hear Jimi Hendrix's All Along the Watchtower. Oddly, Terre Haute had better taste in music than Daytona did, but as great as that song is, I don't want to hear it every time I get into the car. Clemson had an overabundance of the Eagles, but that thesis will be mentioned in a minute. Augusta seems to have a few issues: too much REO Speedwagon and a lot of Cocaine. Don't get me wrong, I love Slowhand, but one time I ate 15 peanut butter and chocolate chip Chips Ahoy cookies and never wanted to look at cookies ever again. REO Speedwagon has no redeeming qualities -- within the context of this analogy, REO Speedwagon would be trying to eat seven pounds of black jellybeans.
I have been convinced in my time in Clemson (and extrapolated to the other places I've been) that you can always find and Eagles song playing on the radio no matter where you are. At every location within the United States, if you have a functioning radio, you can hear either Take it Easy, Desperado, or Peaceful Easy Feeling. Guaranteed. I used to like the Eagles, now I don't care if I ever hear Hotel California again. I could go for some of those cookies, though.
Why can't one of these stations develop a weird obsession with somebody different? Like the Yardbirds or Spencer Davis Group or Johnny Horton? Sink the Bismarck! definitely does not get enough airplay.
Back home in the VC, they played a lot of George Thorogood. He's a pretty tough rocker who made the Bo Diddley Beat famous to a whole new generation (Bo Diddley's Who Do You Love is way better, but of course, saying that the original blues song by a black guy is better than the white boy cover is like saying "I prefer the smell of cinnamon to that of flaming skunks"). He's also from Delaware, which just doesn't really jive with the image of Bad to the Bone, does it? Do they even have guitars in Delaware?
In the Haute, you could not get into the car and tune into 105.9 the River and not hear Jimi Hendrix's All Along the Watchtower. Oddly, Terre Haute had better taste in music than Daytona did, but as great as that song is, I don't want to hear it every time I get into the car. Clemson had an overabundance of the Eagles, but that thesis will be mentioned in a minute. Augusta seems to have a few issues: too much REO Speedwagon and a lot of Cocaine. Don't get me wrong, I love Slowhand, but one time I ate 15 peanut butter and chocolate chip Chips Ahoy cookies and never wanted to look at cookies ever again. REO Speedwagon has no redeeming qualities -- within the context of this analogy, REO Speedwagon would be trying to eat seven pounds of black jellybeans.
I have been convinced in my time in Clemson (and extrapolated to the other places I've been) that you can always find and Eagles song playing on the radio no matter where you are. At every location within the United States, if you have a functioning radio, you can hear either Take it Easy, Desperado, or Peaceful Easy Feeling. Guaranteed. I used to like the Eagles, now I don't care if I ever hear Hotel California again. I could go for some of those cookies, though.
Why can't one of these stations develop a weird obsession with somebody different? Like the Yardbirds or Spencer Davis Group or Johnny Horton? Sink the Bismarck! definitely does not get enough airplay.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Nobody better lay a finger on my...
Man, I miss Butterfingers. The candy bar, I mean, not athletes who do their jobs poorly. This probably sounds like a strange sentiment, when you are probably thinking, "Why, Engineer, what has happened to Butterfingers? Have they been discontinued?" No, they have not. I actually had one like a month and a half ago. But it was not the glorious bite of tastular explosion that I recall when I was a little lad.
It was one of those things that I loved in every way. I always ordered Butterfinger blizzards from Dairy Queen. At Halloween, I traded for them. I wanted Butterfinger flavored shampoo. The only downside to this delectable delight was that it filled in all the nooks and crannies of your teeth with fake peanut butter. I think it was supposed to be peanut butter? But when you were done, your teeth were all flat. It was remarkable, really.
They have a real problem with consistency, though. I guess it has to do with shelf-life; some of them are everything you hoped for in a candy bar, sometimes they taste like orange poo. The one I had a month ago did not measure up to the expectations of my memories. I use the term "memories" a little loosely, because it was probably only like two years before that since I had one. Anyway, in my mind, Butterfingers have fallen from grace. Much like Jennifer Garner (re: Ben Affleck). I will never order a Butterfinger blizzard again, as I have graduated on to real peanut butter. I wish it were an actual graduation, so I could eat my mortarboard.
It was one of those things that I loved in every way. I always ordered Butterfinger blizzards from Dairy Queen. At Halloween, I traded for them. I wanted Butterfinger flavored shampoo. The only downside to this delectable delight was that it filled in all the nooks and crannies of your teeth with fake peanut butter. I think it was supposed to be peanut butter? But when you were done, your teeth were all flat. It was remarkable, really.
They have a real problem with consistency, though. I guess it has to do with shelf-life; some of them are everything you hoped for in a candy bar, sometimes they taste like orange poo. The one I had a month ago did not measure up to the expectations of my memories. I use the term "memories" a little loosely, because it was probably only like two years before that since I had one. Anyway, in my mind, Butterfingers have fallen from grace. Much like Jennifer Garner (re: Ben Affleck). I will never order a Butterfinger blizzard again, as I have graduated on to real peanut butter. I wish it were an actual graduation, so I could eat my mortarboard.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Man, I wish I had an English accent
I bought a new cell phone this week. I passed on the iPhone, because I came out of my giddiness about a device that's very seductive that I don't actually need for $600. Also, I spent a pretty hefty chunk of dollars on my move, and I'd rather buy a lot of other things for $600. Like a stereo receiver, rent or oreos. Maybe a Playstation 3. Anyway, I got a lame Nokia flip phone (although I love the flip aspect of it) from AT&T. I say lame because it's functionality is limited to pretty much phone and camera, and I haven't used the camera for anything. I'm pretty sure Ansel Adams would have his thumb over the shutter with this thing. I think it's the 6085 for those of you keeping score at home.
I chose AT&T/Cingular for two reasons: my entire family uses it, so I can talk to them for free and for their commercials, which are not only the best cell phone commercials, but possibly the best commercials on tv right now. Having the best cell phone commercials is not a terribly impressive feat right now. I think that seeing how much of my whisk I can swallow would be competitive with the Alltel commercials for entertainment value, Verizon (it's the network) deserves no further mention, and T-Mobil doesn't use CZJ anymore. I don't remember what the other ones are, and I would be shocked to find that any of you actually want me to offer a synopsis of bothersome commercials. They suck, let's just leave it at that.
I think I need to clarify: it's the AT&T wireless broadband commercials that are great. It's not quite cellphones, but it's close enough in my book. That English (maybe not really English) guy "sneaking" up on the internet is such a wonderfully simple commercial. "Dug a hole! Didn't have to dig a hole, really. I did it to prove a point." It wouldn't work without the accent, and I don't care. I would watch a half hour of this guy. It's a shame, really, because I don't need that product. I might get it just to reward their ad people, though. "In hole! In a tree! In a bush! Would you like tea with that download? Yes, please. Thank you." Maybe I'm just a simple guy, but there needs to be more of this commercial. And less of that fratastic Chad from Alltel.
I chose AT&T/Cingular for two reasons: my entire family uses it, so I can talk to them for free and for their commercials, which are not only the best cell phone commercials, but possibly the best commercials on tv right now. Having the best cell phone commercials is not a terribly impressive feat right now. I think that seeing how much of my whisk I can swallow would be competitive with the Alltel commercials for entertainment value, Verizon (it's the network) deserves no further mention, and T-Mobil doesn't use CZJ anymore. I don't remember what the other ones are, and I would be shocked to find that any of you actually want me to offer a synopsis of bothersome commercials. They suck, let's just leave it at that.
I think I need to clarify: it's the AT&T wireless broadband commercials that are great. It's not quite cellphones, but it's close enough in my book. That English (maybe not really English) guy "sneaking" up on the internet is such a wonderfully simple commercial. "Dug a hole! Didn't have to dig a hole, really. I did it to prove a point." It wouldn't work without the accent, and I don't care. I would watch a half hour of this guy. It's a shame, really, because I don't need that product. I might get it just to reward their ad people, though. "In hole! In a tree! In a bush! Would you like tea with that download? Yes, please. Thank you." Maybe I'm just a simple guy, but there needs to be more of this commercial. And less of that fratastic Chad from Alltel.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Anybody know where I could find a Green Jacket?
Ok, I'd like to think that How Observant will become a little bit more regular now. (And funnier.) I am largely settled into my new place (minus the bed and furniture) and I am largely finished with my school. Work starts on Monday, but I won't be talking about work here. Because it's boring and because I can't. Anyway, please accept this link to a page full of kittens as my apology for not producing a lot of content over the last month or so. Also, Happy Preseason Football Season everybody.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening
I am mostly writing right now to record the events I have seen this evening so that tomorrow when I read them I can be sure they actually happened. You see, tonight is a bit of a surreal time for me. I am in the laboratory running a computer program I wrote for a class on three computers because they take way too long (I think I wrote them poorly, but that's not the point. They work, and because they work, I am going to be done with grad school). I will likely be here for a few more hours, and I am starting to have those bleary visions when you've had your contacts in too long and it looks foggy indoors. Also, I have had a mug of tea and a bottle of Vault, which I think is bad news GI-tractwise. I think perhaps 20 oz. of that stuff is too much for mortal men to consume in one sitting.
Anyway, I've been sitting here a while, playing a lot of Zuma as I keep an eye on my computers. I am going to save that Aztec frog if it's the last thing I do as a Clemson student. I have also made a few trips to the restroom (tea and Vault will go through you) and I feel the need to mention one of my neuroses that I don't think has come up: when I enter a stall, I don't like to see or be seen by anyone. I don't really know why, but I feel the need to be undercover when I'm behind closed doors. It's like Clark Kent's glasses, except more convincing.
You might think that this goal would be easy to achieve at 12:30 at night on a college campus during the summer on a Wednesday (Thursday?). It was not. Foreign graduate students tend not to buy (split infinitive narrowly averted) internet access at their apartments, because it is expensive. So at this time of night, you can find a lot of folks who have eaten way more rice than you probably ever will. While I have been waiting, one of my lab mates got into a shouting match in Chinese (I only know two words in Chinese, and I didn't hear either of them) and while in the bathroom, my cover was blown. I'm less concerned now about the fact that my cover was blown, but more along the lines of how I was detected in the men's room.
As I exited to wash my hands, there stood a Chinese graduate student over the sink with his head bent down. I caught it with corner of my eye (failure number one) and figured he was just washing his hair or face. If you spend a lot of time in the lab, a quick whore's bath isn't such a bad idea. Especially with this heat, I could probably use one by now. When I exited to wash my hands, though, I saw in more detail (and he saw me -- failures two and three) and he wasn't doing either of those things. He was shaving his head with what looked like a Gillette Mach 3. I have never watched anyone shave their head before, so I didn't really think about the role that shaving cream would play. But this soon to be bald Asian man was covered in it.
If this were an actual dream, I would have no idea what it would mean. Perhaps a preoccupation with the Chinese, since there was a lot of yelling in Chinese (which, interestingly, due to the intonation system makes many sentences sound like they are not really over when they stop talking) and a Happy Gilmore dream sequence surreal image. Hopefully, this insanity won't continue for too long.
Anyway, I've been sitting here a while, playing a lot of Zuma as I keep an eye on my computers. I am going to save that Aztec frog if it's the last thing I do as a Clemson student. I have also made a few trips to the restroom (tea and Vault will go through you) and I feel the need to mention one of my neuroses that I don't think has come up: when I enter a stall, I don't like to see or be seen by anyone. I don't really know why, but I feel the need to be undercover when I'm behind closed doors. It's like Clark Kent's glasses, except more convincing.
You might think that this goal would be easy to achieve at 12:30 at night on a college campus during the summer on a Wednesday (Thursday?). It was not. Foreign graduate students tend not to buy (split infinitive narrowly averted) internet access at their apartments, because it is expensive. So at this time of night, you can find a lot of folks who have eaten way more rice than you probably ever will. While I have been waiting, one of my lab mates got into a shouting match in Chinese (I only know two words in Chinese, and I didn't hear either of them) and while in the bathroom, my cover was blown. I'm less concerned now about the fact that my cover was blown, but more along the lines of how I was detected in the men's room.
As I exited to wash my hands, there stood a Chinese graduate student over the sink with his head bent down. I caught it with corner of my eye (failure number one) and figured he was just washing his hair or face. If you spend a lot of time in the lab, a quick whore's bath isn't such a bad idea. Especially with this heat, I could probably use one by now. When I exited to wash my hands, though, I saw in more detail (and he saw me -- failures two and three) and he wasn't doing either of those things. He was shaving his head with what looked like a Gillette Mach 3. I have never watched anyone shave their head before, so I didn't really think about the role that shaving cream would play. But this soon to be bald Asian man was covered in it.
If this were an actual dream, I would have no idea what it would mean. Perhaps a preoccupation with the Chinese, since there was a lot of yelling in Chinese (which, interestingly, due to the intonation system makes many sentences sound like they are not really over when they stop talking) and a Happy Gilmore dream sequence surreal image. Hopefully, this insanity won't continue for too long.
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