Bazinga

Sometimes, holidays come and go and I just forget to care. It happens a lot with Valentine's Day.
Anyfeathers, my weekend was full of fail, so I will not post about it. I will say that it is now 11:45 and I am heading to bed, awaiting a new week full of homework deadlines and tournament reffings. This is where life gets really fun!! Why you ask? Because madness is like gravity... all you need is a little push! LOLNARPASSOW!!
(Laugh out loud in a really psycho and scary sort of way...)
No, I was not the joker for Halloween.

Book of the Man of Little Consequence

Chapter 9:

1. And the man of little consequence ran amuck and laughed himself to scorn at this most silly pun which referreth to his running of the 10k.
2. And his zip drive was lost which containeth his writings of nearly fourty years... or rather six months. For this he was much grieved.
3. Then, looking upon a mirror, he speaketh unto himself as one with waning sanity,
4. Saying, "Wherefore doubtest thou? Rememberest thou not how the Lord did return thine Credit Card, thine wallet, thine orientation (on so many occasions), and thine participant's cell phone which belonged to his mother? And thou, being much more pitiful than he, and in need of so much more pity, shouldst indeed be pitied shouldst thou but ask."
5. And he poured out his soul all the minute long and again an hour later, for the zip drive had not yet appeared in his pocket as a philosopher's stone.
6. But the Lord trieth the patience of his people, and it would yet be many more days before the man rediscovered his zip drive.
7. And there was much rejoicing.
8. For what man, when he loseth his zip drive, does not leave his ninety and nine other responsibilities to find it, and when he bringeth it home rejoiceth with all his house? For certain, it was not this man, for he cared not for his house.
9. And the man of little consequence did resume his electronic journal as if he were Dougie Houser.

10. And the professors continued to judge his writings to be a thing of naught. And he was moved with indignation towards them.
11. Then he remembereth the saying: Judge not the judges lest ye become a judge and likewise be disliked.
12. And when he became an intramural official, he remembered the saying and wept.

13. Now it was three and a half years since the return from the land of exceeding vanity and pride.
14. And his first participant to serve a mission did return from his labors.
15. But the man of little consequence had a fallen countenance, for all his talents had returned but little talents.
16. But the Canadien saith unto him, "She whom ye ignorantly dream of declare I unto you." And it was a reference to a song.
17. And what man or woman among you can, by taking thought, tell which song he listened to that inspired him thus?

18. And still the man of little consequence found joy that the snows had not yet come to punish the people of the land of a thousand talents.

Bad News for Bors

So I was looking back on some of my old posts (yes, I am that pompous) and I read a comment from one of my friends that said that I need to post more pictures of animals. So here goes!

Most of you know that apart from my alter-identities as Adventure Haver and the man of little consequence, I am also one step away from being a professional pirate. When that glorious day comes, I will have a pet squirrel sit upon my shoulder. And not just any squirrel... a Prevost's squirrel. You may have seen him at the Hogle zoo sometime...


I will feed him cheetohs and name him Barnacle Bottom, but most people will call him Barnabie for short. He will also have a mean streak the size of a... he can leap about... LOOK AT THE BONES!!!

Analytical Overkill and Audience Poll

John Cheever's wrote these short stories that can be considered an analysis of suburban living. In my 295 class, we are studying these stories and writing analytical papers on them. The other day, the instructor posted one of these papers on the projector and opened the floor to comments and criticisms. When one of the girls brought up a particularly controversial point, he then asked for responses to her response. I wanted to raise my hand and say, "Has it occurred to anyone that we are now doing an analysis of an analysis of an analysis of an analysis?" I think Calvin would have said it, and I could always strive to be more like Calvin. He hangs out with a tiger and when he doesn't like something, he just pees on it.

Also Also Wik, I am looking for a name for our football team. Spizzerinctum has been rejected twice now... wierd. Anyways, I figure if that was rejected a dozen of my other choices would be too like: Fart Nuggets, Boosh Dags, Chigger-Bate, Dog-Faced Dubey-Smokers, Corporate Tools, etc.

So these are my other options in no particular rank:
Happy Ponies
Flying Boogers
Boogers on the Wall
Spanky Browns
Face-Mangling Monkey Nuggets
-or-
Team Peeta.

Take your choice. Really, do. I haven't had a comment in several posts.

Where Do You Get Inspiration From?

So I was in my creative writing class today and I was just sitting there minding my own business, when my teacher straight up steps on my foot and stood there for like five seconds (which is exaggerated slightly in the poem for iambic reasons) while she was handing back a paper. Straightly after the unusual event, I put it into words.

A few classes later she asked for some random ten-syllable line to start us off on our sonnets. I raised my hand and gave a line. She was like, "Great", and then she asked for another. I gave the next one, and then the next one--I already had the sonnet written after all... Then she addressed the class, "See how simple it is to make things rhyme?" Then a student asked her if these lines given would get an 'A'. Her prompt and final answer: "No".

Regardless, a few days later, I turned this in my sonnet. It was titled:

This is Not an 'A' Poem, But It's Based on a True Story

My teacher stood upon my foot today,
Of this offense she was quite unaware,
But I wore sandals, much to my dismay
And all the toes upon my foot were bare.
I made strange and agonizing faces
For all the twenty-seven seconds that
she stood on that foot in thoughtless stasis
As if I were an unfeeling doormat.

Then I smiled and mused at the irony
Should the incriminating happenstance
Be put into a form of poetry
so I could seek her grace for recompense

For it was she who upon my foot stood
And judged the first few lines to be not good.

Like Finding Buried Treasure!

After years of searching, I finally found one of my all time favorite commercials. Enjoy.

http://adland.tv/commercials/degree-kung-fu-long-2004-030-usa

School Rantings, the Unrelated Sequel to Cool Runnings

I walk into the MckAy building today and there is a screen that asks, "What do you love about BYU?" Ha, I was just grumbling about the whole institution...

So I left the world of mathematically narrow and meaningless right answers to come to the world of English... where there are NO right answers. Today in one of my classes as the essays of various students were being picked apart by the opinions of other students, I raised my hand and said, "Isn't it all relative? I mean, even if it's a critical analysis, people only write what they believe, so when you say what's wrong and what's right about this, how can we trust it? Maybe they meant for it to be this way. Maybe you may wish for an apple or an orange, but you still got a peach... and seriously, if you dig deep enough into anyone's work, you can get positive and negative. So why on earth did I get a C on my last paper that I spent several hours on?"

Ok, so maybe I didn't really say that out loud. I mean, I did in my mind. If they could read my mind they'd be like, "What?" But I guess the moral of the story is that there is no way out. I give you my paper and subject myself to your subjective whims, oh professor, and who shall be the ultimate judge of how this affects my GPA slash life?

If only every math test was just a sudoku puzzle and every English test was a crossword. Then I would own life.