Me v. Us

This has so far been a hugely productive summer. Sure, I haven't uploaded my pictures from France. I haven't updated my website. I haven't seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. But I have read Harry Potter. I have worked on my wooden boat. I have worn my polyester yellow pants. And I have gotten a good night's sleep. I think that makes the score three to one in my favor. Butt who's counting?

Most importantly, I just started my third class for the summer - Life Painting. I think that it should be called figure painting instead. We aren't painting Life, in all its infinite and various glory. We are painting boobies and toejam. We are painting cottage cheese and saggy butts. The human figure is what we are specializing in, and I am very excited to get better at it. Next quarter I am going to be a teaching assistant in a figure drawing class (officially called Life Drawing), and that should help even more! If I could get a job at a college or university teaching figure drawing after I graduate next year, I would be extremely happy. I would poop all over myself with happiness. Therefore, I think that all these studies will help me toward that goal. Plus the human figure is amazing. Have you ever really looked at the wonderful mechanics of your hand? It blows me away when I think about it. How about how complex, well-designed and beautiful the eye is? Don't even get me started.

Jimbo

Look what an idiot I am! Jim Mathus played in Savannah last night! For Free! And I didn't know until today. I am upset. This morning I picked up a Connect Savannah, the free weekly in town, and saw a big article about the show last night. I am pissed! At least I had a great time at a Chris Arnold sponsored Hawaiian themed party last night. I won for Best Dressed and stupidest dance moves on a coffee table. And now today I must work all night to finish FOUR illustrations for Monday. More proof that I am a time-wastin', Potter-readin', CIV-obsessed, wife-payin'-attention, part-time workin', Thirsty-Thursday-dancin' idiot. I could have added Delta-swingin' to that nefarious list!

The Dennis-The-Crazy-Guy-At-My-Old-Job Harry Potter Review

Now, I'm not saying that Ms. J.K. isn't a good writer, alright? I mean she's decent. Agian, although, it is familiar ground she is covering. Am I wrong? Magic? Down trodden boys? We've heard it before. But here is what really bothers me - Harry, Hermione, and Ron are sixteen now. Shouldn't they be, you know, throwing their uglies around a bit by now. Harry lived a sheltered life so I can buy him not "snogging" every other thing in a training bra, but these others can't really be so asexual as this. I've seen the statistics and, really, there should have been more than a handfull of "magical" pregos hauling themselves to herbology classes. This Cho girl for instance. She seemed a bit too eager for any believable innocence. She's got to air out that orchid with the speed she goes through 'em. Maybe Malfoy is using his Bad Boi charm to get him some inside action between the lines. But I'm going to need at the very least a hint of it. I mean, if Rowling wants us to get behind her fantasy world then we've got to smell it! Speaking of - the only bathroom scenes involved a crying ghost that went there to hide. What? Nobody shits at Hogwarts?

Well, I haven't yet finished The Half-Blood Prince so I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope for a small bit of real world texture. But I'm not banking on it. What a conservative sell-out Rowling is. Stupid Scots.

Munchausen

My parent's recently told me about my sister's phsycologoist sudgesting that she suffers from Munchausen Syndrome. It is a disorder where the sufferer makes up symptoms of diseases or physical malodies in order to fullfill an inner need to be seen as ill or injured. The person might even believe with all their heart that they actually suffer from any number of diseases. My sister, for instance, has had at one time or another in her life - cronic knee inflamation, luekemia, a bad spleen, kidney problems, tonsilitis, stomach ulcers, heart palpatations, AIDS, and probably a few others that I can't remember. She has been hit by at least ten cars while walking on the sidewalk. I usually respond to her bad news of a new disease, by saying something like, "Oh. Well, I hope you feel better soon!" Meanwhile she screams, "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!" We always thought that it might be out of bordom. But that doesn't go far enough in explaining why she will put herself through exhaustive testing for a fictitous disease. Munchausen wraps up the whole issue nicely. After this late-comer piece of information I thought , "Well, Duh!"

The intersting thing is, I allready knew all about Munchausen. I just didn't know it. The syndrome is named after the famous Baron von Munchausen!

I remeber watching The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, a magical movie about the power of the imagination, somewhere in my teenage years. Of course, the movie is what started my gay-love affair with Terry Gilliam. Incidently, this is a great year for Gilliam Lovers due to the release of TWO movies long overdue - The Brothers Grimm (I'm crapping my pants for this one!) and Tideland. I just watched Lost in La Mancha, and was disappointed. I'm sure that the actual movie would have been great, but this documentary is educational at best. (The Gillaim link above has a bunch of other references to movies he has "lost" or has planned for the "near" future. Like Good Omens!)

So this crazy, 18th Century, cannonball riding, Turkish fighting, fantastic liar is the subject of this book which I would so like to have in my hands right now. (Even more than Harry Potter.)

And he is the namesake of my sister's problems.

Well, I hope she feels better soon!

Staying Civil!

I got trapped again.

This evil game has pulled me into its time-consuming clutches yet again. Last night, all night, and today after class I played and I played and I played. The strange thing about addictive open-ended strategy games like Civilization is that even after not sleeping last night or today I don't feel tired. I just want to play more. I'm thinking about it right now - long-term goals like scientific and cultural advancements while trying to build my military and keep everybody happy. But then those stupid Spanish keep pushing me. One more time, Isabella, and I swear I'll fire-ship your piddly armada faster than you can say, "¿Donde esta el bano?"

I hate this game. It's no Grand Theft Auto - Sex Andreas.

It's Better Down Where It's Wetter

Octavius Aqueous
1589 - 1743 (circa)

Octavius Aqueous was a prominent and influential writer and musical performer in the height of his popularity, and an incomprehensible mumbler and drunk during the times of greatest disparity. Due to his freak-like ninth tentacle he played many songs thought previously impossible by any underwater species, including other lesser Octipi. Many of Aqueous' dramatic tomes, dealing mainly with theories of liquidious philosophy, have been translated into many languages, including Planktonese. His infamous octavos, originally passed from fin to fin, have been collected into a now humorous anthology. The reach and grandeur of these undertakings have planted themselves in the imagination of many a generation of damp denizens. Aqueous' mysterious disappearance in 1743 is generally attributed to a CIA cover-up operation still debated today.

Steve Who?

Who the hell does this guy think he is? (click to enlarge)

The Fix

I get credit card offers all the time in the mail. Almost everyday, in fact. I don't know my credit score, but I figure that it is pretty good based on all this crap that gets sent to me. Considering how Big Brother could crush me quicker than you saying "We surely shall see the sun shine soon.", I guess I should be happy for these crumbs of affirmation.

They contain such serious silliness that I love reading some of these "offers" that pack my mailbox. There are so many footnotes with specialized terms and conditions. I wonder how much their lawyers get paid for such creative razzle-dazzle. One of my favorite tricks they do is is offer is giant, bold letters 7.99% Fixed APR!***

And then on the bottom in tiny print -

*** "APRs for this offer are not guarenteed; APRs may change to higher APRs, fixed APRs may change to variable APRs, or variable APRs may change to fixed APRs. We reserve the right to change the terms (including the APRs) at any time for any reason."

To me "fixed" means it is stable or firm. I am pretty sure this is the universal understanding of "fixed." "Variable," on the other hand, means that it might change at any time, for any reason. It is interesting, but still not surprising, that they both actually mean the same thing in the banking world - the definition that better suits their needs! I love it.

Then I tear it up.

Then I cry.

Summertime

Remember when we would get together on Fridays after school got out for summer. We made rubberband guitars and other instruments and borrowed your Dad's old-style hat. Then early the next morning we would walk down to the park and play make-em-up songs for hours. And people loved us. They would drop any spare change they had into your Dad's hat. One time someone even gave us a ten dollar bill! In the afternoon we ran home and showed my Mom all the money we made, and she made us save some of it. But we still had lots left for going down to the comic shop and buying a few comic books each.

Bombs Bursting in Air

We went to Tybee for the firework show there instead of River Street in Savannah. We naively thought that there might be less people, and therefore less of a parking/traffic problem. I guess sitting in traffic and buying overpriced beer is part of celebrating America's birthday. Walking the mile or so on the beach in order to meet our friends was actually fun, although. Watching all the people - young, fat, tattooed, drunk, ugly, etc. - is always a good time. My favorite was the man who used his cigarette to lite his cheap fireworks. Classy.


The fireworks were shot from the pier, which we were lucky enough to have sat next too. So we had a great view. However, on a scale of 1 to 573, 026 I would give this explosive display a mere 240,822. Not that it wasn't a good show, but what fireworks show isn't? It is a rule at mediocre fireworks shows that everybody has to talk about the best show they've seen. And it's never interesting. (I.e. - On the Navy Pier in Chicago on a random Wednesday. It was impeccably choreographed to patriotic music. It was color coordinated and lasted for at least an hour. I can't imagine what a huge waste of money it was. [You see, you don't care.])

And here's some old pictures from somewhere or other.


This one is a deep see creature of some kind. Unfortunately, it exploded as I took this shot. What a mess.


I got this baby while repairing the Hubble last time I went up. It is of the Heskar System in Delta 4B. It went boom.

Fat Cat

I took the two kitties to the vet today.

I know that everybody hates a my-cat-are-the-cutest-in-the-world story. Especially if you have a cat. Especially if your cat is ugly. Anyway, this isn't one of those.

It turns out that Babs has gained 2.5 pounds in this last year with us. For a formally 11 pound gato that is mucho! Imagine, if you will, gaining 23% of your body weight in one year. If you were a meager 150 pounds you'd have gained 24.5 pounds! If you were a healthy 312 pounder than you would now be a whopping 384 pounds. Or perhaps if you were a shapely Lohan/Olsen 86 pounds, you now have ballooned up to 106 pounds. Way to go, fatty!

Here is what Babs looked like when we picked her up from the human society a little over a year ago. This what she looks like now. Marigold and I feel like bad people. How could we let our beloved baby kitty get so grandiose? The answer is that we are push-overs and she is whiney and completely without self-control. The vet said that Human Society or former strays are often times like that. They eat everything like it will be their last meal verses us genteel bluebloods who were hand fed from the time we were mere kittens.

It just makes me want to eat her.