Snapshot of the Day

Taken on a collegiate campus north of the Mason-Dixon. And you can't really see it, but at the bottom of the whiteboard is something in braille. I'll use context clues to conclude that it's the same request. This individual's preemptive denial game is at an all time high right now. Jehovah's Witnesses, your move.

Where The Wild Things Are [Trailer]

80's babies stand up.

One of my favorite books growing up, directed by Spike Jonze? It's hard to overstate my level of excitement at present.

From MTV's Movies Blog: "Following reports that the movie was too intense for children, [it's] being re-edited and re-shot..."

If that's true, they better break the masses off with a true Director's Cut when DVD time comes around.

Releases 10/16. Until that time, you may only refer to me as Max.

LOL

ROFL:ROFL:LOL:ROFL:ROFL
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I am subscribed to 'Urban Dictionary Word of the Day' and usually they are terrible, and I delete them immediately. The WotD for today, however, was awesome. Please take a moment to learn more about LOL Theory.

File Under: Want

Please, for my birthday, will you buy me a shirt like the one above? Pretty please?





I just purchased this album from Amazon for 1 penny. I am happy with the purchase.




So what if I bought the Hello Kitty Plush?

P.S. Please familiarize yourself with Brandon Bird

Poll

I would rather not put my life into your hands, but I trust you.

I recieved music lessons as a gift, and all I have to do is go and sign up. My dilemma is this; for what should I take lessons?

Banjo

or

Ukulele

I learned how to play uke (@ 5) years ago from a friend who was from Samoa, and since I have been self taught.
I inhereted a banjo from my late grandfather years ago, and have no clue how to play.

So, should I further my uke prowess or should I be more eclectic in what I can play?

Ethereal Material V1.3

Inauguration Edition. Selections inspired by the momentous occasion. Only 10 in the cut, because the one below wasn't available on playlist.com:

Joy Denalane feat. Lupe Fiasco - Change

NOTE: 'Black Republican' is on there because the instrumental should be Obama's theme music, which plays anytime he enters a room/event/planet.

Hit the pop-out player if you can't get all the songs.

Weather

At times I feel like the weather makes me crazy. (Holler if ya hear me!)
However it's not really the weather directly, rather, the weather vicariously through other people.

Favourite Underrated Rant:
Weather is Weather.
When people complain about the weather and how crazy it is where they reside, it drives me crazy. I always end up saying things like: oh. You don't say. The weather changed? Imagine that. Yeah that IS weird.
And then they feel validated, like they just made a good point. I reckon a point was made: weather is unpredictable. I would venture to say that weather and unpredictability are synonymous.

[Begin Sidebar]
If I were a running-back in the NFL, I would want "The Weather" to be my alias.
I can hear sports center now:
Today on the field Reggie "the Weather" Bush was partly cloudy with a 20% chance of precipitation (or is that participation? no, that's not right) as Bart Starr drops back to make a pass. The defense had all the receivers covered and it seemed that the sun was peaking out from behind the clouds but then out of "nowhere" (AKA The Gulf of Mexico) Reggie "the Weather" Bush took a hand-off and blew through the defense like Katrina the biggest hurrricane since 2005. As he hit the end-zone he pulled a wad of money out of his pocket, comparable in size to that of a baguette, or a croissant, and proceeded to make it rain.
[End Sidebar]


But if ever I point this out, I get the response of:
"no, zoop. you don't understand. the weather in Lansing/Utah/Tennessee/mars is extra weird."
then comes the story:
"the other day I was walking to my car and all of the sudden it started raining! and then like five minutes later it stopped!"
or I get this one:
"just last week it was _________ [insert weather condition] and then today it's _________ [insert same/diff. weather condition]"
I usually reply with the same ole, "oh. You don't say. The weather changed? Imagine that. Yeah that IS weird."
Anyways, alls I'm tryna say is that weather is gonna change. Aint noway nohow your'n gwanna change it.
It's a waste of time. I am trying to be more like Samuel Clemens and instead of hating the weather (or my inability to control it) I strive to find the silver lining. (As I always say: age before beauty.)


The following speech is optional part of this post, continue reading if you want, or not (mutually exclusive.)


SPEECH OF MR. SAMUEL L. CLEMENS.

The Oldest Inhabitant—The Weather—

Who hath lost and doth forget it?

Who hath it still and doth regret it?

“Interpose betwixt us Twain.”

—Merchant of Venice.



I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all, makes everything in New-England but the weather. I don’t know who makes that, but I think it must be raw apprentices in the Weather Clerk’s factory, who experiment and learn how in New-England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted to make weather for countries that require a good article and will take their custom elsewhere if they don’t get it. [Laughter.] There is a sumptuous variety about the New-England weather that compels the stranger’s admiration—and regret. [Laughter.] The weather is always doing something there; always attending strictly to business; always getting up new designs and trying them on the people to see how they will go. [Laughter.] But it gets through more business in Spring than in any other season. In the Spring I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours. [Laughter.] It was I that made the fame and fortune of that man that had that marvelous collection of weather on exhibition at the Centennial that so astounded the foreigners. He was going to travel all over the world and get specimens from all the climes. I said, “Don’t you do it; you come to New-England on a favorable Spring day.” I told him what we could do, in the way of style, variety, and quantity. [Laughter.] Well, he came, and he made his collection in four days. As to variety; why, he confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never heard of before. And as to quantity; well, after he had picked out and discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not only had weather enough, but weather to spare; weather to hire out; weather to sell; to deposit; weather to invest; weather to give to the poor. [Laughter and applause.] The people of New-England are by nature patient and forbearing; but there are some things which they will not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets for writing about “Beautiful Spring.”1 [Laughter.] These are generally casual visitors, who bring their notions of Spring from somewhere else, and cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about Spring. And so, the first thing they know, the opportunity to inquire how they feel has permanently gone by. [Laughter.]

Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the papers and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day’s weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wisconsin region, see him sail along in the joy and pride of his power till he gets to New-England, and then see his tail drop. He doesn’t know what the weather is going to be in New-England. He can’t any more tell than he can tell how many Presidents of the United States there’s going to be next year. [Applause.] Well, he mulls it over, and by and by he gets out something about like this: Probable nor’-east to sou’-west winds, varying to the southard and westard and eastard and points between; high and low barometer, sweeping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and lightning. [Loud laughter and applause.] Then he jots down this postscript from his wandering mind to cover accidents: “But it is possible that the programme may be wholly changed in the meantime.” [Loud laughter.]

Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New-England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only one thing certain about it, you are certain there is going to be plenty of weather. [Laughter.] A perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end of the procession is going to move first. You fix up for the drought; you leave your umbrella in the house and sally out with your sprinkling-pot, and ten to one you get drowned. [Applause.] You make up your mind that the earthquake is due; you stand from under and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you know, you know you get struck by lightning. [Laughter.] These are great disappointments. But they can’t be helped. [Laughter.] The lightning there is peculiar; it is so convincing when it strikes a thing it doesn’t leave enough of that thing behind for you to tell whether—well, you’d think it was something valuable, and a Congressman had been there. [Loud laughter, and applause.]

And the thunder. When the thunder commences to merely tune up, and scrape, and saw, and key up the instruments for the performance, strangers say, “Why, what awful thunder you have here!” But when the baton is raised and the real concert begins, you’ll find that stranger down in the cellar, with his head in the ash-barrel. [Laughter.]

Now, as to the size of the weather in New-England—lengthways, I mean. It is utterly disproportioned to the size of the little country. [Laughter.] Half the time, when it is packed as full as it can stick, you will see that New-England weather sticking out beyond the edges and projecting around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighboring States. [Laughter.] She can’t hold a tenth part of her weather. You can see cracks all about, where she has strained herself trying to do it. [Laughter.]

I could speak volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New-England weather, but I will give but a single specimen. I like to hear rain on a tin roof, so I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, Sir, do you think it every rains on the tin? No, Sir; skips it every time. [Laughter.]

Mind, in this speech I have been trying merely to do honor to the New-England weather; no language could do it justice. [Laughter.] But after all there are at least one or two things about that weather, (or, if you please, effects produced by it) which we residents would not like to part with. [Applause.] If we had not our bewitching Autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its bullying vagaries—the ice-storm—when a leafless tree is clothed with ice from the bottom to the top—ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dew-drops, and the whole tree sparkles, cold and white like the Shah of Persia’s diamond plume.2 [Applause.] Then the wind waves the branches, and the sun comes out and turns all those myriads of beads and drops to prisms, that glow and hum and flash with all manner of colored fires, which change and change again, with inconceivable rapidity, from blue to red, from red to green, and green to gold; the tree becomes a sparkling fountain, a very explosion of dazzling jewels; and it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest possibility in art or nature of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable magnificence! One cannot make the words too strong. [Long continued applause.]

Month after month I lay up hate and grudge against the New-England weather; but when the ice-storm comes at last, I say, “There, I forgive you now; the books are square between us; you don’t owe me a cent; go and sin no more; your little faults and foibles count for nothing; you are the most enchanting weather in the world!” [Applause and laughter.]

Your Toilet Is Killing You

Just read. *Mouth drops to floor*

New World

I'm tryna live in one of these. This is the future right here. Unconventional, progressive architecture meets classic inspiration melded with modern aesthetics. I'm tired of waiting for a New World in which the future will arrive. The time is now.

More info here.

Ethereal Material V1.0

Pardon me while I jump on my Kanye sh!t. I just feel I have great taste in music. Let's try this again.

While I would definitely place myself in the category of individuals who break new music to others, I'm really just tryna get the music I like out there. Often I prefer chill joints whilst contemplating the mysteries of the universe to kinda lay back and zone out to. Just a selection of what I'm listening to right now.

This'll be a weekly series, comprised of 11 choice cuts. Enjoy.

Brooklyn Steez

I'm on the same page, paragraph and punctuation as Bianka right now. Walk with me.

People from Brooklyn are known for being Fresh. Now when I say Fresh, I mean they show no chink in the armor,for it would be instantaneous suicide on a number of levels (socially, psychologically, and even physically). Every aspect of their being or endeavor engaged in, is on point (or so the necessary facade would suggest). There can be no appearance of weakness, because a self reinforcing cycle has been formed whereby only the strongest of the strong survive. Weakness the size of a pinhole is enlarged into a doorway and immediately smashed down. This leads to an absurd bravado, the audacity of which is hard to comprehend by those who do not possess it, or have not borne witness to it. Mundane interactions explode into voracious vestibules of vitriolic verbiage, used to slay any who would dare think themselves possessing strength.

A thought process might evolve in this manner: "Look at that dude. Ah, word? He's tryna eat chips like that? He thinks its acceptable to get crumbs all over his gear and have cheese stains underneath his fingernails? This dude ain't sh!t."

This is the Brooklyn Steez. The systematic breakdown and degradation of other individuals, in order to have some point of advantage over them. It is the possession of a necessary self confidence, wherein anyone who has the audacity to question any aspect of your existence must be crazy and subsequently dealt with. Individuals are unknowingly judged by their actions, which if are in conflict with your perception of "correct", "cool", etc., indicates a challenge to your being, which cannot be accepted. Said individuals are then supremely detested and seen as not worth the atoms forming their basic components. This state of mind can be seen as a self defense mechanism, because in this environment everybody's looking at you the same way-- as a potential threat to their unquestioned supremacy.

Now this might seem incredibly harsh and devastatingly negative to most individuals, and perhaps rightly so. But every environment has its benchmarks for success and failure, and in Brooklyn (and other areas generally marked by poverty and/or lack of economic upward mobility)the benchmark is incredibly high.

Now for a plethora of reasons, environment and DNA not being insignificant ones, I possess the Brooklyn Steez. However, as I have come to the conclusion that this perceptual framework is not productive in many places, I don't operate within its confines in most situations, unless I know that it is the definitive modus operandi of interaction in said place. However...

Throughout my life and increasingly more so as time has progressed, I have come across individuals so oblivious to their own repulsive tendencies, (which they perceive to be "cool" and worthy of praise) that I immediately revert back into my Brooklyn Steez. The standards by which people judge themselves have been twisted and construed, so as to render their logic for being the way they are, unrecognizable. Why would they do that? They are clearly lacking in any skill or trait that would garner praise from any individual with any kind of intelligence. Yet, they possess a confidence that is completely unearned and unwarranted.

Their blissful ignorance propels me into a fit of rage that is not insignificant. I begin to dissect every aspect of their being and find gaping holes in their armor through which I would verbally annihilate them, if they ever attempted to propagate their supposed worthiness in my vicinity.

This disqualifies my interest in 95% of the people I meet. (Maybe I just live in an area with a high concentration of ignorance.) Their lack of a demeanor which adequately reflects their lack of positive attributes, causes the immediate quelling of any desire I might have of getting to know them.

Bottom line: If you're ignorant and you know it, clap your hands either spend some time working on you, or get the f!@k away from me.

Holla if you hear me.

NOTE: The face seen at the top of this post shall henceforth be known as the *Maino Face*. This is the face made when one is operating within the Brooklyn Steez. And yes, Maino is from Brooklyn.

I'm a little bit jaded by alot of what I see.

At times it seems I hate everybody.
I'm at war with ignorance and I'm losing, why would I join that fight anyway? It's a losing battle, and ignorance is bliss!
The other day I was told I was a hater, hah, and while denying it, I was reminded by Ryan (a kid in two of my classes) of the first day in english class. When I said very loudly, and to everyone in class: "I dont want to hang out with none of ya'll, don't get confused. It's not gonna happen" I defend myself saying that I was just frustrated by the douchebag in the front of class who wears his hat sideways, sags, and was late to class. Or maybe it was the smelly kid next to me? No it was most likely the prissy chick wearing uggs with her pink sweatpants. I digress. This conversation took place approximately 2 days before this one:



After I said that Zak and I laughed, but it made me think of being called a hater and I was like, zomg!, they're right!

So.
I tell you all of that to tell you this:
I made a concious decision to start giving people the benefit of the doubt and start maybe... being more positive, I guess?
that was maybe a week ago, I'm already frustrated and have been let down. I have said it before: optimists are always disappointed, and pessimists are pleasantly suprised.
however, I will keep on keeping on, life's a garden. Ya dig it. (Joe Dirte. anybody? no? ok.)



I feel like this post is taking a turn i don't want, im not trying to be down, im just saying that it sucks when people meet your low expectations or they just fit right into a negative stereotype. Try not to be that person, that's all im saying.


I'm more coldplay than I am Ice-T

Nerves of Steele

The morning sun was barely peaking over the horizon when Trevor awoke. It was a particularly brisk morning, and Trevor did not want to get out of bed, but he knew the fish would not wait. Trevor slunk out of his small one-man tent and over to the remnants of last night's cook fire. Carefully, he dug through the ashes till he found a few coals still warm from the previous night. It was very difficult re-lighting the fire since all the good kindling was still hoary from the frozen morning dew, but his persistence paid off. Warming himself by the fire, he began cleaning the knife he was using to strip the wood of its wet bark. Then, picking up a piece of gnarled wood he had decided not to use in the fire due to its shape, he began whittling one of the several knots into a crooked nose. As Trevor was musing on the events of the fishing trip over the past few days, he heard a rustle from inside one of the other two tents and soon saw Preston, his younger brother, emerge. In the third tent lay Matthew Steele. “Why did we bring him?” thought Trevor to himself. Since the very beginning of this almost perfect fishing trip, it has been pock-marked by Matthew's uncanny ability to stumble into trouble. Although Matthew was a mischievous boy, it was hardly ever his own doing that trouble found him. It was like trouble was his own personal raincloud, waiting for him to put down his umbrella. His mischievous nature only served as a catalyst.
Preston sat down next to Trevor and pulled out his folding knife, joining his brother, whittling away in silence. Both boys were in the Boy Scouts of America and were proficient at knife usage and fire building, as well as first aid, life saving, shooting, swimming, etc. (the usual repertoire of a Boy Scout.) After some time whittling, it was clear that Preston was carving a small animal of some kind and that Trevor was crafting a bust. About that time there was some rustling from inside Matthew's tent and shortly he emerged. Stumbling about, wiping the sleep from his eyes, he started complaining about the amount of bug bites he had acquired thus far. He forgot his bug spray. Every camp out it was the same story, Matthew forgot something imperative. Once he forgot his sleeping bag, another time he forgot his flash light, he even on one occasion forgot to pack pants. Once he had finished his tangent and saw what the other guys were doing, Matthew wanted to do it also!
“Hey, Preston, can I use that knife?” Matthew asked.
“Not till I'm done, and that won't be soon,” replied Preston.
He knew he would get the same reply from Trevor so he tried a different approach, “Hey Trev, do you have another knife that I could borrow?”
“Where is your knife?” asked Trevor, but he knew the answer before it came.
“I forgot to pack it...”
“Well I didn't factor that in when I packed, I only brought this one” retorted Trevor
Matthew was relentless. “Yeah right, you always have like, a thousand knives.”
“What an exaggeration” thought Trevor, “what would I do with a thousand knives? Where could I even pack that many knives?” “ I lent most of them to you, and they are now either bent, dull, or lost. So this time I only packed this one and the fillet knife.” He argued.
“Alright, I'll just use the fillet knife.” Matthew proposed, as he set off to find it.
“No, it's not a good knife for whittling. The blade's too flimsy and long, and it's incredibly sharp,” Preston reasoned, but to no avail.
Matthew returned a short while later, looking rather pleased. With the fillet knife in hand, he started removing small shoots off the branch he had selected to whittle. The knife cut through the smaller branches like butter. It seemed to Matthew to be working out just fine, in fact: he showed them! But in reality, he was breaking the number one rule of knife safety: Never cut towards yourself. He had one hand at the far end of the stick and the knife wielding hand moving towards his trunk, where he had the stick rooted. As Trevor observed this, a cold shiver ran through him.
“Matthew, what are you doing? Don't cut toward yourself!” Trevor warned.
“Yeah man, that's dangerous and stuff” Preston chimed.
“It's fine, I know what I'm doing guys” Matthew said, not attempting to hide his annoyance.
“Hey, Matt, that knife is really sharp he's just lookin' out for you” said Preston defensively.
“Leave me alone guys!” Matthew yelled, “I know what I'm doing!”
As the last word left his mouth the knife slipped, and he cut into his forearm. Blood immediately poured out, covering his arm. He uttered a faint scream as he saw what happened, and then panic stuck him. All the color left his face, he looked like death, and he started breathing heavily. Trevor immediately got to his feet and swept over to investigate. Preston merely uttered a string of expletives, only serving to increase Matthew's panic. Trevor could see at once that the cut was just a glorified scratch. It only barely broke the skin, and there was no need for worry of death or serious injury. Yet, he realized, Matthew was too busy using every curse word known to man to take a minute to inspect his own damage.
“That's a really deep cut.” Trevor was testing him.
“I know, I think I felt it hit my bone” said Matthew between sobs. He was crying now.
“Yeah, you're bleeding a lot” Preston said innocently.
“Shouldn't you guys be doing something? I could die!” he pleaded.
“I don't know Matt, we can't do a lot for you. And by the time the ambulance gets here...” Trevor was playing a sinister game with Matthew's mind, but he justified it by thinking he was teaching him a valuable lesson.
“What? Won't they send in a helicopter or something?” Matthew was sobbing uncontrollably.
“No, too many trees” said Preston. He had caught on.
“I think you're going to die, Matt” said Trevor.
“No...” he moaned “... guys, I... I can feel my heart slowing down”
At this, Trevor realized he had to stop. So, he took the shirt off his back and cut it to pieces and used it to clean and then dress Matthew's wound. Matthew's skin healed, but his reputation always was marred by: “I can feel my heart slowing down.” Thus was the legacy of Matthew Steele.

Day Dreamin' At Night

There's usually a good 2 hour window between when I lay my head to rest and when the Z's finally catch up. I gotta confess that this is the time when some of my best thoughts, theories and Hypothesii are concocted. Here's a re-occurring thought of mine that was somewhere off near the Crab Nebula, until recent events brought it closer to Mars:

All my generation knows is prosperity. There's been no war that's put us on a cliff overlooking destruction. There's been no plague to remind us that human life is precious. There's been no cataclysmic event to humble and remind us that there are bigger forces at work throughout the cosmos. And because of this, many lack what I consider a necessary perspective. One that informs us of a truth that our ancestors knew, but that we've forgotten: Tomorrow isn't promised.

The planet earth as we know it is approximately 4.5 Billion years old. Humans have been around for maybe a few hundred-thousand years. And of those few hundred-thousand, we've only had our act together (read: Industrialized) for maybe the past 200 years (rounding up). I say that to say this: "Civilization" is not the norm. Huge urbanized centers of human coagulation are not par for the course. Nation states are not a given entity. For most of human history we've been a tribal species warring over the limited resources this planet has to offer. A species just hoping to survive the defining events of every previous time: War, Pestilence and Destruction.

But now we've had a taste of success. Many of us no longer have to worry about basic survival. Food is abundant. The natural predators of humans have been pushed to the brink of extinction. Life is now about something else. Progress maybe. I can't call it. And although I'd love to see us establish a world peace, invent the perpetual motion machine and terraform other worlds, I don't see it happening.

Our time will face the same defining moments as all others. We're just choosing to ignore the warning signs that they're on the horizon. And the craziest thing is-- our defining moments, if not addressed properly, could end us all. And while that last sentence may appear a bit hyperbolic, consider the challenges we face. Global Warming, AIDS, SARS, Bird Flu, Nuclear Proliferation, all of which have the potential to end life as we know it on planet Earth. Not to mention the economic disparity that exists in this world. Eventually those with the least will have only one place to turn in order to to acquire their basic necessities: To those with most (read: THE UNITED STATES). And with how much congeniality do you think they'll approach? My bet is somewhere around None.

My point is this: How long do you think our age of prosperity will last? I'm not willing to bet it'll last through my lifetime.

So with that in mind, maybe instead of basing your life decisions on their immediate impacts, or even how they'll effect your future in this current "civilized" context, you should be keeping one eye looking at how you'll survive in a world that you've never even thought about, much less been to.

Or maybe I should just go to sleep.

big dummies.

I was recently discussing politics with someone who I previously held respect for, that is until he told me the only reason anybody was voting for Obama was because of his skin color. No, seriously... I asked my non-caucasian friend who he was voting for and when he simply pointed to his arm, the once respected personage said, and I quote: "that's the only reason anybody's voting for him"

I have a co-worker who on two occasions has heard me listening to hip-hop. On both occasions she had the audacity aks "so, you're sympathetic to the plight of the black man?"




My Brain almost melted trying to tasdhn we fnsdof e sdoi

*Scratches His Head*

I have recently realized that pessimists are always pleasantly surprised, and optimists are sadly disappointed.
also.
late people are generally happier than those who were on time, waiting for the late persons

It's Been A Long Time...

I shouldn't of left you, without a dope rhyme to step to. (If you don't know the reference, go back to '86 and punch yourself in the face.)

We'll do it live, fuck it. For whatever reason, Summer and I couldn't see eye to eye (more on this momentarily), and my wondrous witticisms were forced to go on temporary hiatus. Irregardless, I'm goin' in. On the real, there's too much happenin' for me to be posted up, watchin' the world fall apart. Mad ups to Zoop for holdin' down the spot like a champ. From here on in, I'm unleashing terror like the Seventh Seal's been opened.


BONUS-- The actual list of Summer's grievances:

• I'm hotter than the sun.


• She wanted me to wear a crochet hat and pants.


• I told her I don't fuck with her new "Global Warming" look.


• I didn't sell as many albums as Wayne.


• Back in '96, me and Lauryn Hill went and drank some mango juice with Polaris. Needless to say since Summer and The Sun are HEAVY in the streets, she was fumin' and hasn't forgiven me since. Or tango'd in Paris.

Turrable

I work in the mall. Sorry.
Directly in front of the store where I work it opens up and you can see the lower level, including the escalators. Well, today the escalator going in the up direction was being worked on, and after much maintenance, they left it turned off, but removed the barricade. So it was then stairs, right?

I was amused to see that four out of five people who approached them were perplexed.
Of those four, three of them were so preoccupied with their phone, purse, or insulin that they didnt realize they were 'stairs' until they were litteraly about to step onto them. Once again, they were then dumbfounded.
They would take a few steps back as if they half expected the 'stairs' to apologize, or start moving again. Also, they would look around checking their bearings. Maybe they took a wrong turn?

I only wish I was joking.

oh, and the country of Liechtenstein is only 62 square miles.

Au Contraire Mu Frère

tonight as my family and i were eating dinner, which consisted of salmon, asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce (which my mother slaved over to prepare with perfection,) my younger brother decided he would ask if there was any tartar sauce. to which my mother replies "oh... um, let me check"

[begin sidebar]
i was once dining with a friend who's roommate was the master chef at a fancy hotel/restaurant in downtown Detroit. as we began our meal, he told me, a good chef should never have to put condiments on the table, his food should have enough flavor solely. to ask for a condiment is an insult bested only by refusing the food and sending it back.
[end sidebar]

(keeping in mind he works in a restaurant) i looks up and i says, "are you serious?" what followed was him being perplexed by why i was upset, i explained he was insulting her cooking. so then i says (once again keeping in mind that he works in food service, and i never really have) "well if you had ever worked in food service, you would know that" trying to imply that he should know better than i since he works in a restaurant and i never have. he decided to come back with: "well ive worked in a restaurant for over a year, and you never have, so i know infinitely more than you about it."

um, you should probably cover up. your ignorance is showing.

i mean, all of that stuff aside, who puts tartar sauce on salmon?

Last Day of the Fourth Month.

so today is an eventful day in history, many significant and not-so-significant things occurred on this day.

For example: george washington was inaugurated on this day in 1789, and the louisiana purchase was made in 1803; also Saigon fell to Communist forces, effectively ending the Vietnam War.

On the not-so-significant side: tennis player Monica Seles was stabbed while resting courtside during a match at Hamburg, Germany. And the New York World Fair opened.

And then on the 'Significant-but-generally-regargded-as-not-the-best-course-of-action' side: Richard 'tricky dick' Nixon announced the U.S. was sending troops into Cambodia. and hitler killed himself.

and this conversation occurred with my sister:

if i got a nickle every time she said that, i would never have to eat mcdonalds again (which causes CAIDS, i hear.)

Questions, Comments, Complaints, or Concerns, Please Phone: 281-330-8004 and ask for Mike.