tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34278152933984065282024-03-05T23:43:41.915-08:00may house in exilelil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-91241825711864817702010-01-11T12:30:00.000-08:002010-01-11T12:31:58.815-08:00This text is probs about Santa Cruz(760): I can handle NPR. I speak hippie. I took it in college.<br /><br />source: http://www.textsfromlastnight.comlil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-867935826808102532009-07-12T12:23:00.000-07:002009-07-12T12:43:35.726-07:0043 Things You Might Not Know About UC Santa Cruz<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I forget how I came upon </span><a href="http://review.ucsc.edu/fall08/text.asp?pid=2465"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">this gem of a website</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">, but someone at UC Santa Cruz brilliantly came up with the idea to create a list of, you guessed it, 43 things you might not know about UC Santa Cruz. Now, it's entirely unclear who this website is designed for, because if you're like my grandmother, for example, you probably don't know ANYTHING about UC Santa Cruz, so this allows them to get away with bullshit factoids like interesting fact number 27: Humans first arrived on what is now the campus 12,000-16,000 years ago; and interesting fact number 34: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">More than </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">77,340 degree</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">s</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> have been awarded at UC Santa Cruz since its first graduating class in 1967. However, if you're a UC Santa Cruz student, you probably know all that already. They mix it up a bit, s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">ince the list is kind of long (43 facts, you guys), I've decided to condense it down to the facts I find to be most pertinent to all of us today. There are a bunch of really boring ones like "UCSC might in some capacity save the world one day," but I skipped over those to bring you the truly important ones. Enjoy the reading, guys. </span></span></span><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;font-family:Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">8. Military strategists at U.S. Central Command invited environmental studies professor Alan Richards to brief top Pentagon officials about the war in Iraq. (For Sophie)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">22. UCSC’s famous banana slug mascot almost didn’t survive the ’80s. Back when the university joined the NCAA, the chancellor and a group of student athletes changed the campus mascot to the sea lion, figuring a slimy yellow slug didn’t have the cachet they wanted. But students revolted and, in a 1986 referendum, voted by a 15-to-1 margin to keep the banana slug, thereby guaranteeing UCSC would always join the Whittier Poets and the Ohio Wesleyan Battling Bishops on the list of most unusual mascots in the country.<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">23. When the UC Regents were considering a site for a new Central Coast campus, the story goes, they considered possible locations in the Almaden Valley in Santa Clara County as well as Santa Cruz. But coming over the Santa Cruz Mountains on a blistering summer day, they felt the cool ocean breezes and picked the Cowell Ranch property in Santa Cruz.<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">24. The reason dogs aren’t allowed on campus is due, in part, to a goat named Samantha. Samantha, who had become besotted with a police horse named Sam and was its constant companion, was killed by a big Shepherd/Lab mix whose owner had brought it to campus for a run. The campus was already considering a no-dog policy, but Samantha’s 1978 death was the last straw. You can still see Samantha’s gravestone on a hill on the left side of Coolidge Drive and signs that warn against bringing dogs to the campus.<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">26. Over the years, reports of ghostly apparitions on a fire road below Cowell College have prompted the area to be named Haunted Meadow. It was in that area on May 14, 1903, that Sarah Agnes Cowell was killed when she was thrown from a buggy after the horse bolted.<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">36. The UCSC campus is home to more than 500 plant species, an extraordinary level of diversity on its 2,000 acres.<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 17px;font-family:Verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">38.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> UCSC athletic teams have taunted opposing teams by wearing T-shirts with the slogan, “Banana Slugs—No Known Predators.” But that’s not exactly true. On campus, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">known predators</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> include California giant salamanders, garter snakes, shrews, and raccoons. Even humans have been known to eat banana slugs, in emergencies.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I just love the way these all are written, seriously fucking brilliant. Like, the writer took all of these boring facts and in an effort to make them interesting, actually just made them retarded-sounding and cheesy. Like EVEN HUMANS have been known to eat banana slugs, or how it was truly the COOL OCEAN BREEZES that inspired the founders to place UCSC in the exact spot it lies today. Got to love to the alma mater. </span></span></div></div>MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-47974054712360098592009-04-26T23:38:00.001-07:002009-04-26T23:45:09.864-07:00The end of the world<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyviSMnOA-RwtohyphenhyphenunULqTWaQMCyT9emaEhyphenhyphenDsiYv4IzY39Nh4ilKORJETjYyxFqJUNLefXw0tJXE9ZsjZjHY6FgBZIFn6OboX_ekN9yV0s1mrLmoBy767h7tsKp52HGKeyf3ki-hxJQQ6/s1600-h/kindle.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyviSMnOA-RwtohyphenhyphenunULqTWaQMCyT9emaEhyphenhyphenDsiYv4IzY39Nh4ilKORJETjYyxFqJUNLefXw0tJXE9ZsjZjHY6FgBZIFn6OboX_ekN9yV0s1mrLmoBy767h7tsKp52HGKeyf3ki-hxJQQ6/s200/kindle.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329257043792369810" /></a><br />I am upset.<br /><br />There already exists in my dome this ongoing conversation/argument over technology; for instance, when I'm about to post something here or elsewhere I consider how it might be more fulfilling, etc. to write it in my notebook, or sketch it, or whittle it or bake it or knit it or or or...you get what I'm saying. I can barely remember a time before the internet and for some reason this makes me feel weird. Which came first: Guy Cox or the internet? Sometimes I barely remember. <br /><br />I love how the World Wide Web, the internet if you will, can accomplish some pretty beneficial things, like keeping us in touch, getting me sick pictures and music, etc. At the same time I hate probably 1 trillion things about it. Specifically, I hate how sometimes (read: often) it will hijack some totally honest attempt at homework by five hours of looking at dogs riding bikes, cupcake porn, or some skinny boy's fashion choices in Sweden. Life is hard. Whatever though, as with anything else, it's all about striking a balance and all of that trite commentary. Moving past what I can sum up as "The Biggest and Most Pointless First World Problem Probably Ever", I am not going to spend even one minute of my life thinking there's anything positive to say about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazon_Kindle">Kindle</a>. NAH. <br /><br />Need I remind anyone here that the word "kindle" means "to set alight" and, if we've learned nothing from Mr. Ray Bradbury, setting fire to books is aaaall bad. I mean, Moira, if you had this bullshit Kindle thing, the magic that was involved in losing <u>Anna Karenina</u> would be totally lost. I like feeling my books/newspapers/magazines up (that was weird to type). I like making notes <i>in my handwriting</i> in the margins, underlining, and all in all just straight up handling. I think the thing that probably worries/upsets me the most is thinking that technology like this will decrease people's likelihood to visit my favorite places in the world, aka bookstores and libraries. And then they would close. And then the world would end. Or at least my world. <br /><br />Other new fangled technological advances that I will not be repping anytime soon: Twitter. I swear, if I get one, I give you permission to twitter about how I'm a big asshole. Then we can send each other books through our iphones and twitter about how much better our lives are without needing to ever touch anything except our laptops, iphones, and...kindles. What? I don't know. <br /><br />Also, after having the previously mentioned "inner-dialogue" about blogging, etc. I have decided that I am going to blog whatever the ffff I want to 24/7 since Moira and I seem to be the only ones hitting this up anyways. Where you May Babies at? Be prepared for dancing/prancing/romancing music, probably a lot of lists, and more updates on the fall of civilization.<br /><br />I'm just going to go ahead and turn my attention to this homework assignment that is due in approximately 8 hours. <br /><br />Twitter you later, obvi.lil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-22318421322428940342009-04-26T19:45:00.001-07:002009-04-26T20:10:03.520-07:00Playing pianos filled with flamesListening to Neutral Milk Hotel, missing the May House.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3BYbmckk9mU&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3BYbmckk9mU&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 48px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: normal;">There is a GOLD MINE of these out there, by the way. Not as good, but slightly amusing is this one where the dude makes the artistic decision to include footage of himself taking a swig of Jameson (then adjust the bottle so that the label is sure to face the camera) before he starts playing. Oh, college.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Arial;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bzecG0bedag&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bzecG0bedag&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><br /></span></div>MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-26647765550214107662009-04-23T11:20:00.001-07:002009-04-23T11:27:02.513-07:00There's method in my madness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWAqNNH4Q94Z9Z8HEUdlpioqH6NwrIu6I44HDZDjfG4WKacAZvwlyaTnVsx8GwwIBWejKpHYky_ALk_gNdEuzV3tejan6S_PbO92eTZdmP4HhYq_ym5369lPZVlq0YAopvQssPp8MfrXQ/s1600-h/shakespeare9.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 249px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQWAqNNH4Q94Z9Z8HEUdlpioqH6NwrIu6I44HDZDjfG4WKacAZvwlyaTnVsx8GwwIBWejKpHYky_ALk_gNdEuzV3tejan6S_PbO92eTZdmP4HhYq_ym5369lPZVlq0YAopvQssPp8MfrXQ/s320/shakespeare9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327953725739910610" /></a><br />Good day old chaps,<br /><br />Today, it has been speculated, is Shakespeare's birthday. Around that claim is uncertainty, but if anything it is most definitely his death day. Shakespeare was tight and his tightness remains in our day to day language, which I never really thought about but learned about today in my linguistics class. What resulted from that was a .2 second Google search, which led me to <a href="http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/phrases-sayings-shakespeare.html">a list of well-known "phrases from Shakespeare"</a>. On the interesting scale, it's pretty interesting. Either way, it got me to thinking about how I have not read any of the old bean's work since high school...let me go ahead and add that to the 1000830128312 other things that I want to read and/or do.<br /><br />In other news, this week is <a href="http://wclo.com/news/2009/apr/19/severe-weather-awareness-week-begins/">Wisconsin Severe Weather Awareness Week</a>. Right now I can hear the sweet tornado siren, which means perhaps I am going to have to do some evacuation or something weird like that so I'll go ahead and bail sess on this whole thing. <br /><br />As merry as the day is long,<br />C.lil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-76597519635798023722009-04-21T09:04:00.005-07:002009-04-21T09:05:22.535-07:00Is this thing on?Someone please post something else so that I don't have to keep looking at the photo of myself every time I check the site.<div><br /></div><div>Richard? Trip to New York? Jake? Foreign correspondence? ANYONE. </div>MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-10294032979930772412009-04-12T21:52:00.001-07:002009-04-12T21:54:44.883-07:00Re: Growing out my bangsI hate it and it makes me want to fucking die. <div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZB9hGiWl3gjHkeqJUXenfCcsxqv0afc7cSCGXiQ4VLJsNFffR8iKhcvFPN-EQetCDfo8Q-F074OMmWaAE40c94-cwwWAUBBTO85LrALnOBLuXpH3-cXtXiA8Uy5ITG0gti74oXKrlQTa/s1600-h/Photo+139.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZB9hGiWl3gjHkeqJUXenfCcsxqv0afc7cSCGXiQ4VLJsNFffR8iKhcvFPN-EQetCDfo8Q-F074OMmWaAE40c94-cwwWAUBBTO85LrALnOBLuXpH3-cXtXiA8Uy5ITG0gti74oXKrlQTa/s320/Photo+139.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324034841974362898" /></a>MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-12591457869171866552009-04-05T15:30:00.000-07:002009-04-05T15:57:18.131-07:00Slow ShowPlease examine what happened to me one fateful week - better late than never, I have increased my music compatibility with mon petit asian:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuG64VY4WC8xumUucaa9_bw546xwnk3msyniA1fEbcGJgDdFdYnlLYWaE46OPEB5NoGz4XQnDjx6OS9Qems9ulfTABUgo9vEUSB1CkFwpYD_IaMY_fEOKEKs1Igpo_wikM-sg3RTSwhqNy/s1600-h/national.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuG64VY4WC8xumUucaa9_bw546xwnk3msyniA1fEbcGJgDdFdYnlLYWaE46OPEB5NoGz4XQnDjx6OS9Qems9ulfTABUgo9vEUSB1CkFwpYD_IaMY_fEOKEKs1Igpo_wikM-sg3RTSwhqNy/s320/national.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321338720035805522" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>lil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-57649972284412535442009-04-05T15:09:00.000-07:002009-04-05T15:20:34.945-07:0099.9% of all Sad Horns posts are about pop punk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEeBCuH0bj-MKSFJTv0insvRxMx58sTcMDTkFRuEu_Jt9DvbXivogyPDan3pg23qx_QkiDUXDzx_YoQNdKX5bpQ96zp4nboB-R9T1buI6Lxnmvx-q9exC9oHcjn43-m6gIJVZD55BxWNtO/s1600-h/n6700154_34225100_7076.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEeBCuH0bj-MKSFJTv0insvRxMx58sTcMDTkFRuEu_Jt9DvbXivogyPDan3pg23qx_QkiDUXDzx_YoQNdKX5bpQ96zp4nboB-R9T1buI6Lxnmvx-q9exC9oHcjn43-m6gIJVZD55BxWNtO/s400/n6700154_34225100_7076.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321335735712996242" /></a><br /><br /><br />On my fifteenth birthday my two best friends surprised me with tickets to a Sum41/Alkaline Trio/Blink 182 concert. As youth just embarking on what would blossom into a lifetime of avid music listening/mosh pitting, I felt like I had died and been brought to my own personal pop punk heaven. At that ripe young age, bands like Saves The Day, Brand New, Taking Back Sunday, and anyone signed to Vagrant Records understood me in a way that no one else, especially my parents, ever could. These bands sung about the feelings that I had everyday: I hate everyone, but I kind of want them to like me; when will that cute skater boy ask me out?; I still think farting is kind of funny; and I just want to wear checkered vans and Dickies.<br /><br />By the time I got to college, pop punk had been officially uncool for at least two years (probably longer), and it was time to move on to bigger and better things. The kids at school were listening to hip new bands like Joanna Newsom, Neutral Milk Hotel, and Devendra Banhart. These bands were a distant cry from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Deja Entendu</span>, and I quickly learned that if I wanted to make friends in the new grown-up college scene, I better delete those old pop punk bands off my itunes faster than you could say “heart is on the floor.”<br /><br />So I kicked my pop punk life aside, and embraced the way more fashionable and sophisticated indie music craze sweeping college dorm rooms everywhere. But nary a day passed during which I did not miss my old true blue staples.<br /><br />It really wasn’t until I moved into a little blue house on May Avenue that I was finally able to embrace my deep and unflagging love for pop punk once again. Saves The Day played the Catalyst on the first night of classes winter quarter; the show was everything I had hoped it would be and more. In high school, the only time I saw Saves The Day perform was as the opening band for Blink 182 at the cavernous Madison Square Garden. Our seats were so far away that we had to watch the band on the giant TV monitors, and to add insult to injury, they only played songs from their then newest album, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Stay What You Are</span>. I felt utterly betrayed. Didn’t they know that I had both their other albums as well as a few other bootleg tracks downloaded from Napster?<br /><br />When I finally saw Saves The Day take the stage that magical night so many years later, the dreams I had once had as a young pop punker were finally realized. Not only did the band play every single one of my favorite songs (including a few tracks from their 1998<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> Can’t Slow Down</span>), but we actually even ended up meeting up with them at the Red Room later on and sharing a few beers and a few awkward jokes about economics.<br /><br />Does pop punk still hold a special place in my heart? Of course. It will always be the music of my youth, the music that made me feel alive and like it was a good idea to dye streaks of my hair pink. And when that fateful day does come when I must shuffle off this mortal coil, my final wish will be that they play <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Dude Ranch</span> at my funeral.MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-48545215857195887112009-03-31T22:53:00.000-07:002009-04-07T12:58:29.455-07:00Xwords and an old man<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.zammy.com/grandpa.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 370px; height: 480px;" src="http://www.zammy.com/grandpa.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /> (Google's rendition of "grandpa")<br /><br />This story took place yesterday at approximately 9:45 in the AM. Being Monday, and the easiest crossword day (we all know this), I made a point to grab a newspaper before I hopped on the train for my HOUR LONG COMMUTE. About ten stops into my ride, I'm doing pretty well for myself, when an old man sits next to me on the train. I can feel him reading the puzzle over my shoulder but doesn't say anything to me for about two or three minutes. After a sufficient amount of awkwardness passes, he interrupts my crosswording, saying: "It's been a very long time since I've seen anyone to do one of these." I tell him that I try to do one every day, which is totally a lie, but he seemed to buy it and was impressed that I wasn't one of those people that "just tunes out and watches tv all day long." We begin doing the crossword puzzle together and he gets a few answers. About twenty minutes later his stop is approaching and he starts to gather his things. As he gets up he turns to me and says "You're a very intelligent girl and if I were fifty years younger I would ask for your number." I smile and thanked him for his help with the puzzle and told him to have a nice day. And he responds with "Well, you've already smiled at me..." Needless to say, he melted my heart and I <3 old people!!!!!smosgrovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920835319086234500noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-55745637704146793162009-03-31T12:42:00.000-07:002009-03-31T12:52:51.988-07:00SMD, pop punk!I bring you this story from a winter tundra.<br /><br />Yesterday I was biking home from teaching. The day before it had snowed, and it was super windy, so it was not the most pleasant experience ever, but beggars can't be choosers. This last sentence is in no way crucial to my story, except for how I was sliding around while trying to avoid ice, etc. Anyways, I'm killing it down the street (y'all know my bike is fast) and I hear someone behind me being all, "oh! girl! hold up!" so I turn around and this babe on a bike is zooming towards me. I am obviously intrigued so I stop. He comes up next to me and..wait for it...suspense!!!....says: "you should come to my show next weekend, we're pop punk and ~awesome~" and I said, "..." and took the flier, got back on my bike, and BROKE A PIECE OF MY SICK TOE CLIP OFF DUE TO: 1. trying to leave quickly 2. the ice/wind/balls 3., the main reason, POP PUNK.<br /><br />Long story short, SMD/FYL pop punk.<br /><br />Kisses,<br />#1 Fair-Weather Biker of the World<br /><br />P.S. I changed the font and rescanned the picture. Love vs. hate? Want to change anything? Want to change everything (DIAF)?Holler @ your girl. Xoxo, gossip girllil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-47793048488137341692009-03-30T20:45:00.001-07:002009-03-30T20:46:18.753-07:00a good use of time is to check out this website<a href="http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/">http://whythefuckdoyouhaveakid.com/</a>lil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-35589028927184871962009-03-30T00:30:00.000-07:002009-03-30T00:32:28.752-07:00Natty B!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNnbHnvSKzhuNG3BjqQzA0QiPToRiF4YeQob01_51p9tM9sJ49c88RKOGbiLrT48OI1fsaYmOrQX7wYM_kmXnu53bN247nXyam_wf0cOKk9OrmmLCv22Vj2TE7HTKur7rLfbBfC0NipP5/s1600-h/beach.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNnbHnvSKzhuNG3BjqQzA0QiPToRiF4YeQob01_51p9tM9sJ49c88RKOGbiLrT48OI1fsaYmOrQX7wYM_kmXnu53bN247nXyam_wf0cOKk9OrmmLCv22Vj2TE7HTKur7rLfbBfC0NipP5/s320/beach.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318879985469831330" /></a><br /><br /><br />I just got a few roles of film developed and there were lots of pictures of May House/Santa Cruz on them!smosgrovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920835319086234500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-64392968081724042122009-03-30T00:16:00.000-07:002009-03-30T00:18:55.993-07:00Spring has sprung<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEtevIns8q_22bhVbs5Y85wnJTEYLMKbODwoNkbRVdeTZWdIT_P96gzMH1ibnFyxCnWb_13PzykA3_zs1t89dPd-gph9ETzV6ef9AoEHHOTJ56fMlsZqkeCFcJmNR53ERnzZ2X1S9d6Ya/s1600-h/mayhouse+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 235px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQEtevIns8q_22bhVbs5Y85wnJTEYLMKbODwoNkbRVdeTZWdIT_P96gzMH1ibnFyxCnWb_13PzykA3_zs1t89dPd-gph9ETzV6ef9AoEHHOTJ56fMlsZqkeCFcJmNR53ERnzZ2X1S9d6Ya/s320/mayhouse+copy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318876760745795730" /></a>smosgrovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920835319086234500noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-22403868588286850532009-03-30T00:01:00.001-07:002009-03-30T00:01:41.953-07:00I just wanna dance with somebody<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/z2BgjH_CtIA&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/z2BgjH_CtIA&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x402061&color2=0x9461ca" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>smosgrovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920835319086234500noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-79805200949444564932009-03-22T14:22:00.001-07:002009-03-22T14:29:56.448-07:00Dance parties & sad horn days<object height="300" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3237836&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1"><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3237836&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="300" width="400"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://vimeo.com/3237836">BOOMBOX</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user1308851">Ely Kim</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br /><br />P.S. I have just been (pretty much) internet-free for the last lil bit, but now I'm back and I'm going to get this shit together, yaheardlil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-76933230802733237842009-03-22T01:31:00.000-07:002009-03-22T01:44:29.552-07:00<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzh_q7bXCEpeEt1u_2APAaawWxJ_PLr7jkKgg9e2GXxmlwnX4nwlPiyQAxa5VsnjSlC8G0n3sHyqVoGk82PCA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div>So, I don't think the sound is working on this, which is the biggest shame I can possibly imagine, but let me know if someone can figure it out. These were high school kids playing Blink covers in a tiny NZ harbor town to literally an EMPTY auditorium. They were outstanding. Punkest thing I've ever seen.</div>kiwijakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08140521404769857653noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-61502384555972393742009-03-16T20:54:00.001-07:002009-03-16T20:55:18.982-07:00KIWI JAKE. NOT OKAY.<div><br /></div><div>Also, Brown Mastodon totally beat me to a pop punk post. Fuck you guys, where's all the fancy web shit so I can get down with my blogging self?</div>MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-43135453189008606362009-03-15T04:38:00.000-07:002009-03-15T04:39:16.717-07:00<div>Just thought you should all know about this. Maybe book him for reunion party?</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://talentonline.co.nz/austin-powers/auckland.html">http://talentonline.co.nz/austin-powers/auckland.html</a>kiwijakehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08140521404769857653noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-23973223937330452732009-03-13T00:38:00.000-07:002009-03-13T00:40:28.012-07:00Courier New that shit.<span style="font-family: courier new;">I'm packed and I'm holding </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I'm smiling, she's living, she's golden </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> She lives for me, says she lives for me </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Ovation, her own motivation </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> She comes round and she goes down on me </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And I make her smile, like a drug for you </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Do ever what you wanna do, coming over you </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Keep on smiling, what we go through </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> One stop to the rhythm that divides you </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Chop another line like a coda with a curse </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Come on like a freak show takes the stage </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> We give them the games we play, she said... </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I want something else, to get me through this </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> The sky was gold, it was rose </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I was taking sips of it through my nose </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And I wish I could get back there, someplace back there </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Smiling in the pictures you would take </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Doing crystal myth, will lift you up until you break </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> It won't stop, I won't come down </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I keep stock with the tick-tock rhythm, I bump for the drop </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And then I bumped up, I took the hit that I was given </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Then I bumped again, then I bumped again </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I said... </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> How do I get back there, to the place where I fell asleep inside you </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> How do I get myself back to the place where you said... </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I want something else, to get me through this </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I believe in the sand beneath my toes </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> The beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I believe in the faith that grows </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And the four right chords can make me cry </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> When I'm with you I feel like I could die </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And that would be all right, all right </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And when the plane came in, she said she was crashing </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> The velvet it rips in the city, we tripped on the urge to feel alive </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Now I'm struggling to survive, those days you were wearing that velvet dress </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> You're the priestess, I must confess </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Those little red panties they pass the test </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Slide up around the belly, face down on the mattress </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> One </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And you hold me, and we're broken </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Still it's all that I wanna do, just a little now </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Feel myself, head made of the ground </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I'm scared, I'm not coming down </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> No, no </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And I won't run for my life </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> She's got her jaws now, locked down in a smile </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> But nothing is all right, all right </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And I want something else, to get me through this life </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Baby, I want something else </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Not listening when you say... </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Good-bye </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> The sky was gold, it was rose </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I was taking sips of it through my nose </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> And I wish I could get back there </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> Someplace back there, in the place we used to start </span><br /><span style="font-family: courier new;"> I want something else </span>smosgrovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920835319086234500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-76849330531326545162009-03-05T19:55:00.001-08:002009-03-05T19:55:44.246-08:00this is going to work out well, i feel.smosgrovhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920835319086234500noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-86726485348321766172009-03-02T22:30:00.000-08:002009-03-02T22:31:32.098-08:00Well done, old chap<div>I'd like to s this d. Since you asked...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXvP4u6lQdA4P9Qm_9hu89nepOrGxg8I-QLZVu8qa2GQmPmc-YCDB_iYCJnxn2-4L9ohSrL4KcHJg7b_xZByrogH9OhXcsibLquS_Inpc2hK95Oh-TtCrLSTYpaj-q4je5vzQm-cXm6N4/s1600-h/cact.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZXvP4u6lQdA4P9Qm_9hu89nepOrGxg8I-QLZVu8qa2GQmPmc-YCDB_iYCJnxn2-4L9ohSrL4KcHJg7b_xZByrogH9OhXcsibLquS_Inpc2hK95Oh-TtCrLSTYpaj-q4je5vzQm-cXm6N4/s400/cact.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308845267942245410" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>MKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16923344466566360255noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3427815293398406528.post-57203543474203349962009-03-02T20:04:00.000-08:002009-03-02T20:33:29.368-08:00I AM FOR REALS FEELING THIS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4RbRU9YAo-F0HLRro8BxgRWGUmOQzPM3N48uDfal_Oag3ObicaTYvIubY82vcwgPV_beQjuapsGUy1HyvieKDyJJzPbYq_uuzN5K924ptAIfb7OIyACK8QriNURWEucRdvA-F6jIBs9v/s1600-h/140g6fl.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh4RbRU9YAo-F0HLRro8BxgRWGUmOQzPM3N48uDfal_Oag3ObicaTYvIubY82vcwgPV_beQjuapsGUy1HyvieKDyJJzPbYq_uuzN5K924ptAIfb7OIyACK8QriNURWEucRdvA-F6jIBs9v/s320/140g6fl.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308809222328563186" border="0" /></a>Welcome to the internet.<br /><br />I'm planning on using the May House polaroid unless you guys have other suggestions, and letting Zzzzz (zachattack!) do whatever the ffff he wants. Please make a post/comment with links you want to link to, d's you want to s, or if you don't want the polaroid, or if you don't give a fuck.<br /><br />I just want to squeeze your cheeks, every last one of you, you're just as cute as a freaking button I'll tell you what.<br /><br />P.S. This blog/any blog on blogger can have up to 100 authors so in case you wanted to invite the other 94 May-Housers (Avery?) it is quite do-able old chaps!lil chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02723805714858270041noreply@blogger.com1