By a while ago do you mean "when you were eight" ?
Nope I mean when I was 21.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Risk Soldier Battle
Well I am all busy and stuff so here is a risk soldier battle I made a while ago on my coffee table.
By a while ago do you mean "when you were eight" ?
Nope I mean when I was 21.
By a while ago do you mean "when you were eight" ?
Nope I mean when I was 21.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Vegetables are Irksome
A little while ago I went on a two day trip during which we ate bread, bread, and also pizza.
We have always eaten vegetables by the metric ton in our household and I was pretty sure I contracted scurvy after 48 hours of not eating salad.
I would have murdered somebody for a zucchini.
The other people on the trip were mostly chill with the cruel drought of vegetables and I was confused by that. Did they even like produce? What was wrong with them?
Then I thought about some vegetables and realized that pretty much all of them have something slightly annoying about them. This must be why people don't like them very much.
Not relationship ending sort of annoying just small quirky things you hate.
Like when people smush spiders and leave them on the wall...I hate that.
without further ado:
Six Slightly Annoying Issues with Popular Produce
We have always eaten vegetables by the metric ton in our household and I was pretty sure I contracted scurvy after 48 hours of not eating salad.
I would have murdered somebody for a zucchini.
The other people on the trip were mostly chill with the cruel drought of vegetables and I was confused by that. Did they even like produce? What was wrong with them?
Then I thought about some vegetables and realized that pretty much all of them have something slightly annoying about them. This must be why people don't like them very much.
Not relationship ending sort of annoying just small quirky things you hate.
Like when people smush spiders and leave them on the wall...I hate that.
without further ado:
Six Slightly Annoying Issues with Popular Produce
Monday, November 4, 2013
THAT Person at the Airport.
Last week at the airport I had a distinguished privilege.
I got to be "that person who is about to miss their flight and cuts everyone else in the security line".
That hated individual...
It all began when I left my phone on the super shuttle.
Unfortunately I was blissfully unaware that it all began already - we got all the way through security at LAX. (I was supposed to be the adult in the group of high school kids I was leading through the airport.)
Then I tried to check the time on my phone and lo and behold it was quite absent.
So I looked around every where and finally used someone else's phone to get a hold of the driver who said that he had it and was outside. The other people on our team could watch my kids and my backpack.
With a scant amount of time left before the plane was going to board I decided to try my luck and go outside to get my phone from the driver. Which of course would require me to go through all of LAX security a second time.
To my surprise the driver was nowhere to be found. It appears that we had different interpretations of the phrase: "I am right here." Mine being, "He is right outside the Southwest terminal which I am in," and his being, "I am also present at the the airport known as LAX." Not having time to jog the entire LAX loop in search of him I returned to the terminal and attempted to get through security. I did this using a means known as: begging desperately and pitifully for my life.
There was a line where a TSA agent was looking at boarding passes.
"HI... I.. WELL YOU SEE...Me begging."
They let me cut. The TSA agent squinted at me and said, "Weren't you just here? What are you doing in this line again?"
I thought, "Yes. I just told everyone that I came back out to look for my cell phone and didn't even get it can you please persecute someone who has more time?"
I came up to a small room packed full of about twenty miserable people waiting to have their boarding passes and ID's checked by TSA people with strange flashlights.
My eyes were wide with horror, I was breathing heavily from running around the whole freaking terminal. Not again I don't want to do it again. You have to do this again. There is no way you are going to make it if you wait through this line- also you might pee your pants from anxiety."
" I UM... EXCUSE ME I...begging."
They looked at me. All twenty of them.
If eyes could bore holes I would have been Swiss cheese.
They were all angry.
I saw in their eyes a flash of mob mentality. They all had to agree to let me go forward. If even the people in the back said, "no cutting looser face," I would be totally out of luck.
In this picture I have all these people talking but really they weren't talking.
It was pin-drop silent, it was nobody-did-the-homework-silent. Eons of silence.
The man in the front moved to the side.
The people after him slowly budged over.
I did more bowing than a Japanese salesman.
"God." said the TSA agent.
"That line through the detectors looks shortest," a woman said quietly and let me go through.
I hopped on one foot taking my shoes off and putting them back on and took off at a sprint down the terminal.
Running in the airport is not romantic like in the movies.
Everyone looks at you and thinks, "shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit..." with superfluous "i"s, and some of them just say that.
I made it.
People are nicer than you might think, even in our sometimes not so angelic city of angels.
No airport is complete without:
1. The person who is about to miss their flight. (me!)
2. A Starbucks approximately every 5 feet.
3. One MacDonald's that thinks it's a gourmet restaurant. Today's Special: Trade a hamburger for your Rolex.
4. A bazillion Americans not well versed in "stand right walk left" all using escalators and moving walkways inefficiently. Every time: "Did you know that in Japan people queue up so efficiently that they GET CRAP DONE?"
I was, however, NOT that person who shot up LAX. Nope. That was a different person who was apparently upset with being treated like a terrorist. Thus their motto became, "If you treat me like a terrorist I will become one." If I lived by the motto, "if you treat me like one I will become one," I would be a gangly awkward person who....wait never mind that is what I am like.
Also someday I would like to see one of those airport endings turn up like this:
I got to be "that person who is about to miss their flight and cuts everyone else in the security line".
That hated individual...
It all began when I left my phone on the super shuttle.
Unfortunately I was blissfully unaware that it all began already - we got all the way through security at LAX. (I was supposed to be the adult in the group of high school kids I was leading through the airport.)
Then I tried to check the time on my phone and lo and behold it was quite absent.
So I looked around every where and finally used someone else's phone to get a hold of the driver who said that he had it and was outside. The other people on our team could watch my kids and my backpack.
With a scant amount of time left before the plane was going to board I decided to try my luck and go outside to get my phone from the driver. Which of course would require me to go through all of LAX security a second time.
To my surprise the driver was nowhere to be found. It appears that we had different interpretations of the phrase: "I am right here." Mine being, "He is right outside the Southwest terminal which I am in," and his being, "I am also present at the the airport known as LAX." Not having time to jog the entire LAX loop in search of him I returned to the terminal and attempted to get through security. I did this using a means known as: begging desperately and pitifully for my life.
There was a line where a TSA agent was looking at boarding passes.
"HI... I.. WELL YOU SEE...Me begging."
They let me cut. The TSA agent squinted at me and said, "Weren't you just here? What are you doing in this line again?"
I thought, "Yes. I just told everyone that I came back out to look for my cell phone and didn't even get it can you please persecute someone who has more time?"
I came up to a small room packed full of about twenty miserable people waiting to have their boarding passes and ID's checked by TSA people with strange flashlights.
My eyes were wide with horror, I was breathing heavily from running around the whole freaking terminal. Not again I don't want to do it again. You have to do this again. There is no way you are going to make it if you wait through this line- also you might pee your pants from anxiety."
" I UM... EXCUSE ME I...begging."
They looked at me. All twenty of them.
If eyes could bore holes I would have been Swiss cheese.
They were all angry.
I saw in their eyes a flash of mob mentality. They all had to agree to let me go forward. If even the people in the back said, "no cutting looser face," I would be totally out of luck.
In this picture I have all these people talking but really they weren't talking.
It was pin-drop silent, it was nobody-did-the-homework-silent. Eons of silence.
The man in the front moved to the side.
The people after him slowly budged over.
I did more bowing than a Japanese salesman.
"God." said the TSA agent.
"That line through the detectors looks shortest," a woman said quietly and let me go through.
I hopped on one foot taking my shoes off and putting them back on and took off at a sprint down the terminal.
Running in the airport is not romantic like in the movies.
Everyone looks at you and thinks, "shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit..." with superfluous "i"s, and some of them just say that.
I made it.
People are nicer than you might think, even in our sometimes not so angelic city of angels.
No airport is complete without:
1. The person who is about to miss their flight. (me!)
2. A Starbucks approximately every 5 feet.
3. One MacDonald's that thinks it's a gourmet restaurant. Today's Special: Trade a hamburger for your Rolex.
4. A bazillion Americans not well versed in "stand right walk left" all using escalators and moving walkways inefficiently. Every time: "Did you know that in Japan people queue up so efficiently that they GET CRAP DONE?"
I was, however, NOT that person who shot up LAX. Nope. That was a different person who was apparently upset with being treated like a terrorist. Thus their motto became, "If you treat me like a terrorist I will become one." If I lived by the motto, "if you treat me like one I will become one," I would be a gangly awkward person who....wait never mind that is what I am like.
Also someday I would like to see one of those airport endings turn up like this:
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
A New Hoodie and a Post-College Rant
New sweatshirts are wondrously fuzzy - it's like wearing the skin of a stuffed animal you recently vanquished in battle.
More differently:
Also I did not post on Monday - after a year of posting faithfully.
Instead I went to an open mic which kind of sucked.
Also I am having some slight recent-college-graduate-crisis-trauma-issues-more-words.
And then I think to myself :
ME: "You could go back to graduate school and study things..." and then I look around on the internet and Everyone says: "DO NOT go to graduate school for any sort of social science/humanities degree. You will just post-pone your semi-jobless loafing state for a few years and increase the accompanying panic."
ME: "but there are tests...and and homework... and books and things I am good at... unlike real life or whatever the frick this is that I hate."
ME:"WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY WHOLE LIFE! THERE IS A BLACK ABYSS OF NOTHING STARING AT ME AND NIETZSCHE SAYS IT IS GAZING BACK OR SOMETHING BUT HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO FIX ANYTHING NOTHING IS HAPPENING AND WHY AM I LISTENING TO NIETZSCHE ANYWAY." Existential crisis-es are torrential run-ons.
Everyone: "Shut up. Stare out this window."
ME: "oh. I like it. It is green and stuff and the leaves move a little bit. I think I will do this forever."
More differently:
Also I did not post on Monday - after a year of posting faithfully.
Instead I went to an open mic which kind of sucked.
Also I am having some slight recent-college-graduate-crisis-trauma-issues-more-words.
ME: "You could go back to graduate school and study things..." and then I look around on the internet and Everyone says: "DO NOT go to graduate school for any sort of social science/humanities degree. You will just post-pone your semi-jobless loafing state for a few years and increase the accompanying panic."
ME: "but there are tests...and and homework... and books and things I am good at... unlike real life or whatever the frick this is that I hate."
ME:"WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH MY WHOLE LIFE! THERE IS A BLACK ABYSS OF NOTHING STARING AT ME AND NIETZSCHE SAYS IT IS GAZING BACK OR SOMETHING BUT HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO FIX ANYTHING NOTHING IS HAPPENING AND WHY AM I LISTENING TO NIETZSCHE ANYWAY." Existential crisis-es are torrential run-ons.
Everyone: "Shut up. Stare out this window."
ME: "oh. I like it. It is green and stuff and the leaves move a little bit. I think I will do this forever."
Sunday, October 20, 2013
Sleep in or survive?
Things:
a. spider juice sounds like a Halloween appropriate mixed drink
b. Humans are so groggy and useless in the morning it is surprising we have survived this long. If you put a lion in my room and I woke up staring it in the face I would probably bop it with my pillow - turn over and go right back to sleep.
c. which is the most appropriate book to kill spiders with?
1. Crime and Punishment - the crime: you are a spider in my house - the punishment: I kill you
2. At Home in Midford. Because there is something outstanding about killing things with a book about picturesque little towns.
3. Not a book - instead the first season of Breaking Bad because Walter kills his first person like I kill spiders - "shit...sorry.. sorry...what have I done?...there was nothing else I could do - he was messing up my entire life...sorry"
Monday, October 14, 2013
I am the creepy runner.
I like to run. Running defends me from having a spaz attack of hyper-active energy. It also provides the illusion that I might be fending off the stream of calories coming at me from my steady diet of goldfish crackers and kraft mac and cheese.
Every morning I run pretty much the same route and end up at the same ending point at pretty much the same time. I am a creature of habit. I loathe change.
Now this ending point that I appear at around 8 am each morning happens to be an elementary school. At around 8 there are a couple of late children and parents trickling in and a couple of teachers outside waiting for them. This little school is a charter and it doesn't have any fences or gates so I walk right through the front of it.
It occurred to me a little while ago that I am a large, hostile looking person who appears at an elementary school everyday at precisely the same time. Conveniently, I also appear at a time when I can see kids go into the school. It dawned on me that behavior has a hint of stalker-y with a little tint of total creeper - but I said to myself, "Listen, self, you aren't doing anything wrong. It isn't your fault that you are gargantuan and odd looking. You are free to run wherever the crap you want to without being suspected of having a criminal record."
On Friday I got to the end of my run and stopped.
I noticed that there were two women standing outside. One of them I had seen many times before, she was a principal or something. Today there was another larger "could-totally-take-me-in-a-fight" sized woman.
Both of them looked at me.
They looked at each other.
They glared at me simultaneously.
I pretended not to noticed that, made a right angled turn and started walking off as normally as possible.
The more intimidating chick started to follow me.
"It may be -" I thought, "that we are just walking in the same direction."
We were not just walking in the same direction.
I turned around.
I made my least creepy face.
It made me look creepy-er.
Many potential scenarios flashed rapidly through my mind-
"What are you doing here everyday?" she might ask - I am running I might say. I could say that I live right by here...wait no then she could look around, find me and beat me up..."
She said:
Issues in the lives tall people: sometimes when you think that someone is going to come up and accuse you of being a sex-offender they invite you to be on a women's basketball team instead.
On a slightly related note I have also made this (chart? diagram?) thing regarding how I feel when I am running I have good days and I have bad days. I also have many other kinds of days - as described here:
Monday, October 7, 2013
Absurd Cards II
I made more of these because now I am addicted to captioning stock photos.
In review: Once upon a time Seize the Absurd decided to make some crappy cards / postcards with MS paint. She enjoyed it and continued to make them (much to the dismay of the people throughout the land).
It might be possible that an entire range of greeting cards could be made from the lyrics of trashy pop.
In review: Once upon a time Seize the Absurd decided to make some crappy cards / postcards with MS paint. She enjoyed it and continued to make them (much to the dismay of the people throughout the land).
no really though the most normal of people are in fact insane
grammatical confusion? whatever.
Okay that one might be a little dark.
and that might have grammar issues and be math related ...
It might be possible that an entire range of greeting cards could be made from the lyrics of trashy pop.
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