Just out of curiosity, who's the guy who sits around all day and names the lipsticks and nail polish? Does he also have a "master list" of all of the other names for nail polishes? It'd be horrible if there were two "strawberry fields" out there, now, wouldn't it?
(Just out of curiosity, why am I asking this question?)
1/31/2004
1/30/2004
1/29/2004
1/27/2004
A conversation with a bot
Bot: See? I know you.
Me: You know me?
Bot: Yes I do.
Me: Are you sure about that?
Bot: Yeah, cause I can see you are a boring person.
Me: Ouch.
Talk to him. Really.
Bot: See? I know you.
Me: You know me?
Bot: Yes I do.
Me: Are you sure about that?
Bot: Yeah, cause I can see you are a boring person.
Me: Ouch.
Talk to him. Really.
I think that that Mrs. Frizzle of Magic School Bus fame started the whole "izzle" trend years before it took off.
1/26/2004
I don't think the snowplow truck guy likes us.
Every time he drives by our house, he makes an effort to turn on his siren, flashing, rotating light, and honk his horn as many times as possible (not to mention push the snow in our yard). By the way, he does this all at five in the morning.
I've got a little question for him: what did we ever do to you, Mr. Snowplowman?
We never did anything to him. We don't drive by his house and turn on our sirens. We don't even have sirens.
I just hope we can work things out.
Every time he drives by our house, he makes an effort to turn on his siren, flashing, rotating light, and honk his horn as many times as possible (not to mention push the snow in our yard). By the way, he does this all at five in the morning.
I've got a little question for him: what did we ever do to you, Mr. Snowplowman?
We never did anything to him. We don't drive by his house and turn on our sirens. We don't even have sirens.
I just hope we can work things out.
1/23/2004
1/22/2004
1/19/2004
In honor of Martin Luther King's Birthday (as observed here in the US), our school tried a new and exiting social experiment.
Or so they called it.
Over the announcements, the usual voice was heard. One announcement seemed to just blend in with all of the others:
"In honor of (unintelligible) King Day, at lunch, you will be (unintelligible) to (unintelligible) with someone (unintelligible). The rest will be explained at lunch."
Three or four hours later, I walk into theCaffiteria Cafiteria Lunch room, where I'm greeted by the arm of the counselor swinging her arm up in front of my neck, creating an efficient and cost-effective mini-blockade. I felt as if I was in a kung-fu movie of some sort, and my first impulse was to grab their arm.
"Do you have a number?" she asked.
I laughed slightly.
"That's funny," I said, appreciating their joke. The "rules" had been starting to get somewhat ridiculous over the years.
There was a slight pause. It seemed as if they had forgotten to lower their arm.
"I'm not joking," she said.
I was stunned. Did we actually need to buy numbers in order to sit down? If that was the case, what next? Did we have to make reservations before we could sit? Would the school accept Visa or MasterCard?
I expressed this confusion all in one single word:
"Number?" I asked.
"Yes. Number." She pointed to the vice principal handing out numbers.
I had no choice but to grab one.
Amidst the yelling crowd, I was able to ask the vice principal one thing:
"Why do we need numbers?"
"What?" he yelled back.
"Numbers?!" I yelled back.
"WHAT?!" he yelled back.
"NUMBERS!" I yelled back frantically.
"TAKE ONE!"
"WHY?!"
"YOU NEED A NUMBER!"
"YES! WHY?!"
"DIVERSITY!"
This was a diverse situation, alright.
I was given a number.
I was able to figure out on my own that I was supposed to sit where my number said.
On the table was a nice packet containing icebreaker to start casual conversation between us. It said:
1. Ask for your tablemate's names.
2. Say your name.
3. Ask about their favorite book.
4. Try to find a similarity between everyone in your group.
It was very obvious which would be the hardest: number two.
The kid at the table next to me (number 22) wore glasses and was short. He had a bowlcut, and looked like he had jumped out of the early 90's.
"Hello," I said. "What is your name?"
"You aren't supposed to talk to me!" he yelled back. I wasn't sure if this was a "my-parents-told-me-not-to-talk-to-strangers" warning or a "don't-you-remember-our-restraining-order" warning.
"Come again?" I asked.
"I'm waiting for my table mates!" he yelled back, obviously annoyed.
"Sure," I said, but was interrupted by his yell of:
"NUMBER TWENTY-TWO!!!! SOMEBODY SIT HERE AT NUMBER TWENTY-TWO!"
Someone sat next to him. He was visibly angry when the visitor revealed that his card did not actually say 22, but 53 instead.
No one had sat down at either of our tables. A girl younger than me sat across from me. I already knew her name, I knew my name, and her favorite book (I figured Harry Potter, it was the general response), and a similarity was not only established between us, but the entire students sitting at lunch. This similarity was "I am not enjoying this 'social experiment'".
After seven minutes of this, everyone was allowed to sit where they wanted. Even though we could, Mr. 22 continued yelling out his mantra ("IS ANYONE SURE THAT THEY DON'T HAVE 22?"), and I moved on to sit with my usual group.
The principal approached me later. This was the same principal who willingly gave two friends of mine free cheesecake. I wasn't as lucky as them.
"What did you learn from this experience?" she asked me.
I thought about this for a while.
"Well, I learned that forced diversity doesn't work so well," I began. "It was an interesting concept, but it didn't seem to work out too well," I continued. "It's sort of like walking into a McDonalds in New York and saying 'you there, old man, sit next to the guy who looks like a gangster here, and mister artist, sit by this man who appears to be either Goth or Satanic.'"
"That's true," she said. "Even though in the future, a situation like this wouldn't be so likely. Even we have some trouble adjusting to new situations such as this one," she said, and walked away.
I thought back on the situation later in the day. The only moral or interesting thought I got out of the story was "You know, I think it'd be a lot of fun to walk into a McDonalds and command where people sit."
But then again, sitting next to a random person at a McDonalds and saying, "Let's chat," is a great way to get verbal abuse hurled at you, not to mention injury, death, or a cold-like virus of some type.
Or so they called it.
Over the announcements, the usual voice was heard. One announcement seemed to just blend in with all of the others:
"In honor of (unintelligible) King Day, at lunch, you will be (unintelligible) to (unintelligible) with someone (unintelligible). The rest will be explained at lunch."
Three or four hours later, I walk into the
"Do you have a number?" she asked.
I laughed slightly.
"That's funny," I said, appreciating their joke. The "rules" had been starting to get somewhat ridiculous over the years.
There was a slight pause. It seemed as if they had forgotten to lower their arm.
"I'm not joking," she said.
I was stunned. Did we actually need to buy numbers in order to sit down? If that was the case, what next? Did we have to make reservations before we could sit? Would the school accept Visa or MasterCard?
I expressed this confusion all in one single word:
"Number?" I asked.
"Yes. Number." She pointed to the vice principal handing out numbers.
I had no choice but to grab one.
Amidst the yelling crowd, I was able to ask the vice principal one thing:
"Why do we need numbers?"
"What?" he yelled back.
"Numbers?!" I yelled back.
"WHAT?!" he yelled back.
"NUMBERS!" I yelled back frantically.
"TAKE ONE!"
"WHY?!"
"YOU NEED A NUMBER!"
"YES! WHY?!"
"DIVERSITY!"
This was a diverse situation, alright.
I was given a number.
I was able to figure out on my own that I was supposed to sit where my number said.
On the table was a nice packet containing icebreaker to start casual conversation between us. It said:
1. Ask for your tablemate's names.
2. Say your name.
3. Ask about their favorite book.
4. Try to find a similarity between everyone in your group.
It was very obvious which would be the hardest: number two.
The kid at the table next to me (number 22) wore glasses and was short. He had a bowlcut, and looked like he had jumped out of the early 90's.
"Hello," I said. "What is your name?"
"You aren't supposed to talk to me!" he yelled back. I wasn't sure if this was a "my-parents-told-me-not-to-talk-to-strangers" warning or a "don't-you-remember-our-restraining-order" warning.
"Come again?" I asked.
"I'm waiting for my table mates!" he yelled back, obviously annoyed.
"Sure," I said, but was interrupted by his yell of:
"NUMBER TWENTY-TWO!!!! SOMEBODY SIT HERE AT NUMBER TWENTY-TWO!"
Someone sat next to him. He was visibly angry when the visitor revealed that his card did not actually say 22, but 53 instead.
No one had sat down at either of our tables. A girl younger than me sat across from me. I already knew her name, I knew my name, and her favorite book (I figured Harry Potter, it was the general response), and a similarity was not only established between us, but the entire students sitting at lunch. This similarity was "I am not enjoying this 'social experiment'".
After seven minutes of this, everyone was allowed to sit where they wanted. Even though we could, Mr. 22 continued yelling out his mantra ("IS ANYONE SURE THAT THEY DON'T HAVE 22?"), and I moved on to sit with my usual group.
The principal approached me later. This was the same principal who willingly gave two friends of mine free cheesecake. I wasn't as lucky as them.
"What did you learn from this experience?" she asked me.
I thought about this for a while.
"Well, I learned that forced diversity doesn't work so well," I began. "It was an interesting concept, but it didn't seem to work out too well," I continued. "It's sort of like walking into a McDonalds in New York and saying 'you there, old man, sit next to the guy who looks like a gangster here, and mister artist, sit by this man who appears to be either Goth or Satanic.'"
"That's true," she said. "Even though in the future, a situation like this wouldn't be so likely. Even we have some trouble adjusting to new situations such as this one," she said, and walked away.
I thought back on the situation later in the day. The only moral or interesting thought I got out of the story was "You know, I think it'd be a lot of fun to walk into a McDonalds and command where people sit."
But then again, sitting next to a random person at a McDonalds and saying, "Let's chat," is a great way to get verbal abuse hurled at you, not to mention injury, death, or a cold-like virus of some type.
1/18/2004
1/17/2004
The Question:
Part 1
I e-mailed this question to some amount of people:
"What would happen if you jumped in a hole that was dug directly through the Earth? Assuming there was no obstacles, would you start out falling down and then begin falling upwards?"
So far, I've got back one answer from someone who goes by Passing For Sane:
I think you would probably fall half way. Then you would simply be floating in mid air until one part of the earth was heavier than the other. Unless, of course, the mear speed of the fall ripped your skin off, assuming you were still alive after your body imploded from the pressure thought to be found in the inner layers of the earth. But if you did survive long enough to get to the center, perhaps your momentum would be enough to carry you safely out the other side. Hmm....it's a tough call. Perhaps we should try it sometime. Any volunteers?
Part 1
I e-mailed this question to some amount of people:
"What would happen if you jumped in a hole that was dug directly through the Earth? Assuming there was no obstacles, would you start out falling down and then begin falling upwards?"
So far, I've got back one answer from someone who goes by Passing For Sane:
I think you would probably fall half way. Then you would simply be floating in mid air until one part of the earth was heavier than the other. Unless, of course, the mear speed of the fall ripped your skin off, assuming you were still alive after your body imploded from the pressure thought to be found in the inner layers of the earth. But if you did survive long enough to get to the center, perhaps your momentum would be enough to carry you safely out the other side. Hmm....it's a tough call. Perhaps we should try it sometime. Any volunteers?
1/16/2004
Rob of Cockeyed.com is organizing the second Reader Feedback Week. He'll "display or recognize every e-mail he gets this week". E-mail something to him.
1/15/2004
1/14/2004
1/12/2004
1/11/2004
1/10/2004
1/08/2004
The opening of new PBS show "Boobah" goes something like this: Boohbah, Boohbah, Boohbah, Booh! Boohbah, Boohbah, Boohbah, Booh! Boohbah, Boohbah, Boohbah, Booh! (Kids giggling) Boohbah, Boohbah, Boohbah, Booooooooh!
Curious about what "Boohbah" will be about? This is the concept website of an interactive Boohbah.
The educational message: don't do drugs.
Curious about what "Boohbah" will be about? This is the concept website of an interactive Boohbah.
The educational message: don't do drugs.
1/07/2004
I don't know about you, but after looking up the game "Twister" online, I found out these things:
1. Some people consider Twister a "fun, innocent, contact sport"
2. Nearly all of the websites mention "strip Twister" or some variation of that kind.
3. Many websites say that Twister is a "must have at any teenage party".
Personally, I think all of those points contradict each other.
1. Some people consider Twister a "fun, innocent, contact sport"
2. Nearly all of the websites mention "strip Twister" or some variation of that kind.
3. Many websites say that Twister is a "must have at any teenage party".
Personally, I think all of those points contradict each other.
1/06/2004
I realized while I was watching Sesame Street (against my will, of course) that I could try something new. You may not know this, but froma remote location, I can write a blog post on my Palm, and post it later. A revolutionary idea! Posting absolutely nothing important from anywhere! Huzzah!
written at 7:36 PM on 1-5
Did you know Elmo has an e-mail address? Elmo should not have an e-mail address.
written at 8:10 PM on 1-5
My Aunt sat and watched my baby cousin. She said (my Aunt, not the baby), "You know, little kids are a lot like dogs."
written at 7:36 PM on 1-5
Did you know Elmo has an e-mail address? Elmo should not have an e-mail address.
My Aunt sat and watched my baby cousin. She said (my Aunt, not the baby), "You know, little kids are a lot like dogs."
1/03/2004
1/01/2004
I got bored.
So I looked up user reviews on amazon.com.
The best quote I've found yet came from a review of Jenga.
"Caution: After the events of 9/11/01, a game based on building and toppling a tower might be traumatic to some people."
It's possible. But I'm amused by the thought of someone screaming out in horror whenenever they see a Jenga set at a party.
If that's true, then they'd be deathly afraid of this.
So I looked up user reviews on amazon.com.
The best quote I've found yet came from a review of Jenga.
"Caution: After the events of 9/11/01, a game based on building and toppling a tower might be traumatic to some people."
It's possible. But I'm amused by the thought of someone screaming out in horror whenenever they see a Jenga set at a party.
If that's true, then they'd be deathly afraid of this.
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