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2.23.05/22:31 lucked up
[lucked up] short story
And that's another story, in case you're not burnt out on them by now. This one's probably better than the last one, but maybe not as good as the next one. If nothing else, it's a lot more fun. I have an extreme desire to play guitar and practice the new song I learned. Mad thanks to Quinn-san for sending it to me.
Since I haven't posted it for a bit, and you might need to voice some dissent, my e-mail address is jbaugher@rocketmail.com and I await your hate mail. Also, if you didn't notice the big yellow button, other short stories and links to satire articles are here. 2.19.06/03:48 100,000 miles
[midnight squared] short story
And I wrote another story for fiction class. Also, some of you read punching waves and thought it was pretty bad.
You must not have read buckyball, which is hands down the most offensive thing ever.
Also I made a scorecard for pididdle. Most people don't know this, but pididdle has latin roots. The word is made up of pius (one) plus didlar (headlight). Anyway, you can print this up, cut it out, and use it to play when you're driving all around this great nation. Also, taking a picture of your odometer while driving through the Fort Pitt Tunnel isn't something I necessarily recommend to you or anybody. 2.18.06/02:41 jet interviews and washington dc
Also, why does Korea have 3 or 4 (or more?) embassies? Are they getting ready to build hotels? Thoughts like this are what destroy any aspirations I might have of ever becoming some kind of diplomat. If you go to DC, good luck finding the Danish Embassy... 2.12.06/20:02 the city still stands
That's not all I've done this week. I also found these strange marks on my neck, and I think there's a vampire somewhere in my neighborhood. Really scary stuff, man. Maybe I'm just freaking out from watching Dracula and Nosferatu and reading a heap of books about them. And here's a story that has nothing to do with vampires and everything to do with schizophrenia and people who do the having of it.
[pimping psychotics] short story
And my voice is getting worse. Probably it's about time to quit smoking. I made it through a whole shift last night without any squares, so maybe that's a good sign. This cough is just a symptom of the ten kinds of cancer that are growing inside me. That didn't stop me from doing another bad cover of a good song, though. Bad cover, good song.
[crazy train (ozzy cover)] .mp3 file
February just hasn't been a month where I've been able to do updates like we're all accustomed to. There are reasons for this, to be sure, but to go into them here would violate my anti-blogging policy and get into details that would make you all uncomfortable, make you shift around in your seats and start sweating and shaking uncontrollably, maybe even vomit and defecate in terror. More than likely not, I think. 2.3.06/18:55 dancing in the dark
And I got a new guitar! GUITAR!!!111 It's exactly like Nick-san's guitar, even as far as the handedness goes. Backwards and re-strung and glorious. It doesn't make me better at guitar, but it is LOUDER and more echo-y, a plus.
[nodding off] short story
That's my newest short story for Intermediate Fiction. I probably need to change the title, but other than that everyone seemed to like it well enough. I've got another story, but I think I'll save it for the next post, whenever that is.
And the other day was Rabbit Rabbit Day. I forgot to say it, so my luck might suffer, but if it does, it was worth it and I've no regrets. Something else we do around here is to archive past months, months like January.
Yesterday I saw this semi-trailer. It was about 100 feet long, with the flat bed on the back instead of the boxcar. In the middle of the bed was a steel drum strapped down with chains. Refer to the picture if you can't visualize this. Here's my question: with gas around 2.5 dollars a gallon, how can you afford to waste resources like this?
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I
never posted the screen of my super-awesome Tetris score. Not so
much the score as the number of lines, 307, a personal best.
Shockwave Tetris is harder, I think, because the levels don't max out at
20, but keep going until what, 99? I don't know. Someone
better will have to clarify that for me. I can't believe they're
paying me to do this...
If my car were a simcity and
miles were people, it would be a metropolis, and the radio would play the
appropriate metropolis music. Let's hope I don't still have it when
it's a megalopolis.
[
Let's do this
quickly before the sleeping pills kick in. So yesterday I took my
friend to Washington DC, where we stayed with one of her friends on campus
at Georgetown. I awoke to find this nice green envelope on my car.
Just to make it clear your car hasn't been selected to win some random
prize, the envelope says 'parking ticket' in giant letters. 
The next thing we
did, after sleeping on a freezing and hard floor in a sleeping bag of
dubious quality, was to meet Quinn-san at Dupont Circle. He's the
rather genki-looking fellow a few shots down with the teddy bear that
needs no explanation. Or, rather, won't get one here. As the
title indicates, we were going to the embassy for interviews to be gaijin
senseis.
By the way, congrats to
my fellow interviewees in ATL, CHI, and the others from PA. I wish
you all good luck, and I'm glad we all made it through our interviews
without crying. Well, you did. I may not have. It
was, if nothing else, a slightly nerve-racking experience, but I'm
relieved to be done with it and there's nothing to do but wait 'til April
to see what happens. 2 months.
This fraternity-looking
building with the toilet paper in the tree is actually the Embassy of
Malawi. I suspect the diplomats from the Embassy of Cameroon got
really drunk the night before and thought it would be funny. Eric
assures me this is tantamount to a declaration of war. I also
noticed that Israel's embassy is all alone, with no neighbors. How
lonely.
I
thought for sure they'd burn it down. The intent was there, though.
And check out this sweet picture of the carnage right after the game.
It's copyright Nick Cica 2006, so if you copy it without his permission he
will likely hunt you down and put you in a world of PAIN. Thanks for
sending it, Cica-san. I wasn't there. I was in Ohio safely
watching the game and eating wings. I guess there was some SWAT team
action and some car-flipping and smashing of meters and couch burning.
So it's been a long time
since we first got down. Hell, it's been a long time since we last
got down, too. There's been little to no getting down as far as our
master-slave/poster-reader dynamic goes. I'm getting Quinn-like in
my delinquency, and I apologize.
And
what could be so important to put in the steel drum, anyway?
Plutonium? The president's body? Gold bullion? I just
don't know. And if you're willing to waste a whole semi-trailer on
this tiny drum, why not give it a motorcade? The questions go on and
on. The one thing nobody can argue is that this is a pretty freakin'
sweet diagram drawn with the skill.