i've grown a-costumed to you
Written at:
18:57 31 Oct, 2001 permalink
Of course, a Halloween party isn't Halloweeny without people dressed like
freaks.
As always, my costume this year started with a trip to the S.C.R.A.P. Project,
a community reuse center where people donate all sorts of things that someone
else might find useful.
I found myself standing in front of a barrel of thousands of yellow vinyl
strips that said "free", feeling the strange attraction of plastic. How could
I make a costume out of such a wonderful gift, I asked myself.
The answer was to fashion some sort of chicken costume. But
not just any chicken. ChickenMan 2000*! Yes, I could
be a superhero, my power being running away at incredibly fast speeds!
The costume was conceptually simple - pin several hundred plastic strips to
some cheap activewear from Goodwill - but carrying out the idea near drove me
mad. Have you ever pushed four hundred safety pins through vinyl before?
I finished off the costume with some accessories made of red foam. The foam
also came from the S.C.R.A.P. Project, apparently the refuse from a
foam boomerang factory. I have many many yards of it left. Perhaps the best
investment I ever made.
The costume came out pretty well, given the few days I had to throw it together.
It even held up to feverish dancing to Outkast's
Bombs Over Baghdad.
And, for historical context, here are my two previous Halloween costumes. Because
you can't find these images anywhere else on the web.
* For those who care, it's ChickenMan 2000 because there was already another
ChickenMan, in the form
of a humorous radio play.
boo! radly
Written at:
17:57 31 Oct, 2001 permalink
I think Halloween is one of few holidays I really get into. Probably because
so many of its trappings allow for creative expression.
For example, our house wanted to make things as scary as possible for our
Halloween party last Friday, so we made all sorts
of Kleenex ghosts. The idea was to somehow convince people that the spirits
of dead people were represented by these thin white paper creations.
I think they worked because of a
commonly held belief that the spirit leaves the body through the nose during
a sneeze. As such, people connect tissues with poltergeists in their minds.
Talk about frightening!
But that's not all we did. Tell me, which is scarier: going to the
bathroom, or visiting "el baño de muerte" (that's "the bathroom of
death" for any English-speakers out there)? Unless you have gallstones,
I think you'll agree it's the latter. In keeping with that thought, we made
signs for the rooms in our house that added a certain "je ne sais scary".
I think you'll see what I mean:
blender contest results
Written at:
18:57 30 Oct, 2001 permalink
First off, I want to say that the contest wasn't rigged. Promise.
That said, the winner of the
First Annual
Cockahoop Blender Setting Sorting Contest
is none other than my girlfriend Julia. Really.
Her winning entry was, from lowest to highest: easy clean, chop, mix, grate, shred,
blend, beat, grind, mince, ice crush, cream, puree, whip, and liquefy.
Which, you'll notice, is not all that similar to Oster's official ordering which is,
from lowest to highest: easy clean, beat, puree, cream, chop, whip, mix, mince,
grate, blend, shred, grind, liquefy, and ice crush.
Which just goes to show you that Oster has no clue what they're doing. As
one contestant put it, "How can liquefy
not be the top speed for a blender? ... Crushed ice is obviously
(obviously) less blended than liquefied ice". Indeed.
But contestants felt other words were misplaced as well. Most contestants felt
that puree, cream, and whip deserved to be among the highest settings, not, as
Oster thinks, among the lowest.
In contrast, most contestants felt that Oster was wrong in putting mix, grate,
and shred among the highest settings.
But let's not get all worked up here. After all, our house has a blender, and
it makes a mighty fine salsa verde.
And Julia has her wonderful prize, which, as it turns out, is a fabulous trip
to Portland this Thanksgiving, including a marvelous banquet with some of
Portland's hippest hipsters. Congratulations, Julia!
ana ng's urea farm
Written at:
17:57 30 Oct, 2001 permalink
Like Christy, I too have become enamored of the
anagram craze that's sweeping the nation.
And as usual, it's amazing what subtle truths are revealed about myself and the world
at large by simply rearranging the letters in my name. Names that were chosen, mind
you, by parents who likely had no access to the
program I used to calculate these anagrams. Which makes their resultant truth
that much scarier.
So what am I?
A perverted child of some sort?:
I'm a twisted, droll lad.
I'm "Twisted Dollar Lad".
Some kind of unusual artist?:
Well, I'm odd artist lad.
Well, a mild, odd artist.
Perhaps I'm stupid?:
Alas, dim-witted, droll.
Drat - lewd, small idiot.
Or is it my wild nature that prevails?:
Wild time, odd all-star.
Rowdiest lad - dim, tall.
Or my celebrity?:
I add well-lit stardom.
I am the problem with this world?:
A world's admitted ill.
Or am I the world to some people?:
I am dad's little world.
One thing's for sure - I am the creator of the best anagram lists:
All-time word-list dad.
ignoranium
Written at:
21:02 29 Oct, 2001 permalink
Speaking of people who could probably use a refresher course in chemistry, I am reminded of an
ad I saw in the newspaper recently.
In it, the good folks at Swiss Water, tried to convince
me that their coffee decaffeination process was "100% chemical free". A remarkable feat, that.
I imagined coffee beans suspended in a complete vacuum, their caffeine being removed
by a team of scientists thinking happy thoughts, or perhaps by the mere presence of the great
Juan Valdez himself.
But no. The process is rather pedestrian, involving
soaking the beans in water and the use
of carbon filters.
Mind you, none of those things involve chemicals, because chemicals are bad, see, and the
people at Swiss Water bring you nothing but goodness.
That is why they named their company Swiss Water, after all, when their water in fact comes from
Canada. Because Canadian Water doesn't sound so impressive. But we all know that everything
Swiss is pure and untainted, such as their bank accounts and their World-War-II-era gold.
But I digress.
As if it weren't enough to try and convince us that carbon is not a chemical, the people at
Swiss Water actually try to pass the phrase "flavor saturated water" by us as a legitimate
technical term. As in, "Hey, Bob, you can't serve this water to those kids. Can't you see?
It's saturated with flavor!" Indeed.
Is it a wonder the kids do so poorly in chemistry lab?
the play's the thing
Written at:
20:02 29 Oct, 2001 permalink
My girlfriend Julia is a chemistry grad student at a, um, major west coast university.
As such, she gets to be a teacher's assistant in a lab course, teaching the younger
generation about, you know, chemicals, and how to mix them and stuff.
But let me not bore you with technical mumbo-jumbo. Instead, let me enthrall you
with several one-act plays that Julia has written. These are meant to evoke the
spirit of intellectual ardor and academic dialogue that are freshman chem lab.
They also bear a striking resemblance to real-life occurances.
Student: Is this the one milliliter volumetric pipet?
TA: What does it say on it?
Student: It says "one milliliter."
TA: So what do you think it must be?
Student: The one millimeter volumetric pipet?
TA: Yes.
Student: Are you sure?
TA: What does it say on it?
Student: It says "one milliliter."
TA: So it's the one millimeter volumetric pipet.
Student: Are you sure? It's small!
TA: Well, some dogs are small, but they're still
dogs, right?
Student: Well, yes.
TA: So that's the one millimeter volumetric pipet. Because
I said so.
[...]
Student: Julia, it says to use the "magnetic
stir-bar." Is that this?
{holding up something totally unlike the magnetic stir-bar}
TA: No, you used the stir-bar last week, remember?
It's small and white and you put it in the flask to stir the reaction?
Student: We did?
TA: Yes, you used it to stir your reaction.
Student: {blank look}
TA: Let me look in your drawer. Here. This is
the stir-bar.
Student: We used that last week?
TA: Yes. Don't you remember?
Student: No.
[...]
Student: Is my reaction boiling yet?
TA: Do you see bubbles?
Student: Like these bubbles here?
TA: Yes. When you heat the solution and bubbles
form, that means it's boiling.
Student: Oh. So is it boiling?
TA: Yes. It's boiling.
Ah, the camaraderie of science! That open exchange of ideas that is the basis of the Western
intellect. It makes me yearn for those heady days of yore.
fortified with irony
Written at:
05:48 21 Oct, 2001 permalink
I got an e-mail today from "Superior Anti-Spam Net". Unsolicited mass e-mail,
that is. You might know it as "spam":
"Everyone is irritated by junk e-mail. But did you know that it's more than an
inconvenience? Junk e-mail, or spam, poses a very real threat to your computer
system and your personal security. ... These unwanted messages are potentially
very harmful in the hands of your younger family members. Above all, spam
compromises your undeniable right to privacy."
Hello, didn't you people hear?
Irony is dead!
You can't go around spamming people to convince them of your anti-spam solution!
Why, just think what would happen if other people grabbed onto this idea. Windshield
repair companies throwing bricks with their name on them at your car. Anti-graffiti
politicians spray painting their "get tough on crime" messages on the side of your
house. Peace-loving people bombing and shooting each other.
The mind boggles.
in the world, not of it
Written at:
03:48 21 Oct, 2001 permalink
I'm willing to bet I was the only person in my church's choir this morning who
warmed up his voice on the way to church by singing along to
MxPx.
I don't know. Just a guess.
ode to a blender
Written at:
02:48 21 Oct, 2001 permalink
My roommate Beeman got a blender recently. He's very proud of it.
And indeed, who wouldn't be? It has fourteen settings.
Now, far be it from me as an American to question why one needs fourteen
blender settings, but, well, I am curious. Did people complain about previous
models not having enough?
"Dear Oster, you ruined my Thanksgiving dinner. I needed to break up
some Durkee fried onions for my world-famous green bean casserole.
However, your crappy blender only offered settings of "mix" and "puree",
not a "break up" or even a "chop". Nonetheless, I tried the "mix" setting.
Well thanks for nothing - the granularity was all wrong, and everyone hated
the casserole. Even the dog threw it up all over grandma, who had a hard
enough time keeping it down herself. I hate you and your stupid company.
Sincerely, Martha Stewart"
Maybe I'm just not a good enough cook to understand the finer points of
food partitioning. Maybe really good chefs have blenders with sliders
on them, allowing for an infinite number of blending levels.
Of course, any truly awesome chef would do all his blending with a knife.
Yes, even "liquefy". Somewhere in Japan, there is a former ninja making
sno-cones with six cubic feet of ice and a
Ginsu. That man is
my hero.
But that's not my point. My point is the settings on this blender. Someone
out there had to come up with fourteen different words or phrases to best
describe each level this blender offers. No doubt those words and their
order were tested before a consumer group to ensure that people really
grasp what the settings mean. Any company that makes its products so
user-friendly as to earn the
iMac design committee seal of approval would at least go that far, right?
But I think they screwed up. To that end, I am offering up a contest, with
some vague, unspecified object or concept as a prize. The rules are simple:
put the fourteen words or phrases below in the proper Oster order (without
consulting any blender or blender- related resources - if you cheat, you are
truly pitiful) as defined by my roommate's blender. When you have the order
down, e-mail me [The contest is, of course, long over, so if you're reading this now, don't e-mail me. Thanks. — Todd]. Results to be announced here. Are you ready?
The words are: grind, chop, puree, liquefy, mix, mince, cream, shred, beat,
grate, whip, blend, ice crush, and "easy clean".
Don't ask me what "easy clean" means. If I knew, I'd be one step closer to
understanding blenderhood.
home
Written at:
17:59 13 Oct, 2001 permalink
Ah, North Texas, battleground of the clouds!
What better way to be welcomed back to the mother-
and father-land than with a cold front moving through,
bringing with it heavy winds and rain, thunder and
lightning, and a tornado seventy-five miles away?
And did I mention the power outage? From 9pm last
night until we all went to bed, we had no power in our
house. So we sat around by candlelight and chatted for a
while. You can't get much more old school than that.
It was pretty cool, actually. Very "family". Very
"heartland". And ultimately, not all that "stimulating"
once my parents got tired and decided to go to bed.
Usually, at that point, I would watch TV, read the paper,
or hop on the computer. All very tricky to do by candlelight.
So I went to bed at 10pm. Very "Waltons".
Still, it's nice to be home.
reality trumps surreality
Written at:
22:04 10 Oct, 2001 permalink
Just when things seem to be really dark, humor rears its funny looking little head.
And its head is that of Bert from Sesame Street.
Apparently, protesters in Bangladesh are carrying around posters of Osama bin
Laden that contain a picture of the beloved Muppet. No, really.
I found this rather hard to believe when I first read about it on
Plastic, but even
Wired has a story on it, so, you know, that makes it true.
Doubtful? Go look at the original Reuters photos
(first one,
second one) over at Yahoo. Or this
very large photo over at lindqvist.com.
Is it possible that some Reuters employee doctored the photo? Maybe. But the
consistency of these images, with different lighting, angles, and poster
crumpling, makes me doubt that.
What seems more likely is that the poster maker simply did a
search on Google for "Osama bin Laden" and found a bunch of photos, among which was
one from the
Bert is Evil
parody site. Indeed, most of the images on the poster can be found through that
very Google search.
So the American sense of humor sneaks through undetected into some sincere
anti-American circles, and is broadcast back to us. It's simply beautiful.
More than anything that has happened so far, this makes me want to chant
"USA! USA! USA!" at the top of my lungs.
todd's got science but makes no sense
Written at:
17:59 09 Oct, 2001 permalink
My friend Gerry has of late taken to eating Hostess products chilled in his
freezer.
He says he got the idea from the Ding Dong box. I guess they taste just as
good cold, and you have the added bonus of them, um, being cold, too.
I mentioned that I'd noticed other desserts - cookies and such - promoting
the idea of being served cold on their packages at the supermarket.
We were talking about why this idea seems to be so popular of late when we
realized that the realm of food science has taken a dramatic step forward.
Clearly, someone had realized that if you take confections - cakes, cookies,
and the like - and cool them sufficiently, then you see the effects of
superconfection.
And in superconfectivity, fat (aka "taste") particles are able to travel
more freely, directly to your tongue, resulting in an increase of gustatory
sensation.
The superconfecting treats also float over magnets, which is cool.
shoppin' berk-e-ley
Written at:
23:06 05 Oct, 2001 permalink
But the trip to Berkeley was, as always, fun.
I got to hang out in the library on campus, in the guise of a student. I was aided in my chicanery by the realism of my disguise, which involved a backpack. Or, as the kids are calling them these days, a "knapsack".
If anyone would have asked, I would have told them I was a grad student in phrenology, having previously studied in my home country of Pulmonia. But so convincing was my facade that no one bothered me at all.
Lest my visit to such a liberal enclave as UC Berkeley taint me as unpatriotic, I went shopping with Julia. You know, to do our part for the country.
Except we didn't buy anything. That's because we became overly fascinated with Macy's inventory of weird hats.
Now I used to be a connoisseur of wacky hats, but these hats ... These hats
were of the level of looniness that only the wealthy can achieve.
And since I remain relatively poor, I was deemed unfit for the hats. That, and I have a very large head, and the hats didn't fit me. So I went and bought
some shoes instead.
So that should make things in America all better now.
a tale of two cities' airports
Written at:
22:06 05 Oct, 2001 permalink
Last week I flew down to Berkeley to see Julia.
These were my thoughts at the Portland airport, on my way to see her:
Man, airline security measures aren't near as tough as they
say they are. Show some ID a couple more places, sure, but things are moving
at a normal pace. I got through the ticketing counter and security in thirty
minutes. That leaves a whopping one and a half hours to twiddle my thumbs
here in the terminal. And there's hardly anyone here to entertain me.
Booooring. If I'm going to arrive at the airport two
hours beforehand, I think they should have clowns at
the terminal to entertain me. Of course, since they only allow ticketed
passengers into the terminal, that would mean the clowns would have to get on
the flight with me. And maybe they'd let them do the safety announcement.
Maybe they would try to cram themselves into the overhead bin. Or they'd
hit people over the head with the oxygen masks if they were reading a book
instead of paying attention. That would be funny. And it would save lives.
And these were my thoughts at the San Francisco airport, on the way back home.
See if you can note any differences:
Egads! Where are all these people going? Egads! They've cancelled my
flight! At least they're putting me on another flight. Egads! The line
for this new airline is a hundred people long! And the guy in front of me
is trying to impress a woman with his tales of tending to Steve Martin's
father. It would seem that "Steve" is a really nice guy. The woman is
unmoved. Phew, I made it to the counter, forty minutes later. Egads!
The line for the security gate is as long as the one for the ticket counter!
Hey, I'm being frisked. Egads! They changed the gate for my flight!
Egads! They charged me seven dollars for this pizza! Egads! Is that
guy serious - look at his pants!
Did you notice the difference? That's right, the San Francisco airport has
more mild exclamations the Portland one.
the creddit, or here we go again
Written at:
17:58 02 Oct, 2001 permalink
Oh Qwest, you wascawwy wabbit! You've gone beyond mere incompetence this time
to actually punishing those would do business with you.
I'm sure it seemed like a clever business plan at the time - "make our customers
so angry that they will simply give up insisting on value and service and give in
to our corporate will" - but it may have backfired!
Because I hold in my hand
the pen of justice! And with it, I can write the oddly allegorical harangue of whininess! And, uh,
well, that won't actually accomplish anything, but I'll probably feel better about
things.
As you may remember, in last week's installment,
Our Hero made the world safer for capitalism by forcing Qwest to pay most of the cost of a
new modem it had made him purchase, even though he had a perfectly good one already.
But like any true source of evil, Qwest wasn't hampered in any way! No, it was simply plotting
its insidious revenge.
This week, Qwest's plans were initiated when a package arrived on the porch of Our Hero's hillside home.
Was it a totem bearing an evil spell? Or a trick package that would explode upon opening?
(No, that would be legally actionable!)
It was, in fact, yet another modem! One that Our Hero
did not need, as he already had one (actually, two) that worked fine!
And it came at the cost of $150.
This was a strange form of attack for the evil Qwest to take. Our Hero decided to attack the
villain head-on by calling its billing center and asking what the heck was going on.
But Qwest would not be felled so easily! For its strength had always lain in its spidery webs
of confusion and decentralized decision-making process. So Our Hero was forced to talk to many
different people in many different departments before he realized that nobody knew why he had been
sent this unnecessary modem.
But in the hour or two or three that he spent on the phone, Our Hero learned a most chilling fact:
Qwest had already shipped him yet another modem, one that he had not yet received. Their
plan was apparently to ship him so many unwanted modems, at $150 each, that he would be forced into
bankruptcy! (Note: although I'm writing this up in a silly way, I am in no way exaggerating. Qwest
really has sent me two modems I did not ask for!)
Indeed, Our Hero had faced an attack like this before. Previously, they had shipped him the wrong
modem, and he was instructed to return it to them, whereupon he would receive credit. That time,
it took three months for the credit to appear, and in the intervening months, he was repeatedly
threatened that his phone service would be disconnected. But he triumphed in the end.
But this time, the prospect of returning not one, but two modems made Our Hero shudder. Would he have
the fortitude to fight Qwest for another three months while two different credits were made to his
account, all the while fending off those who would cut off his account?
Then, Our Hero remembered that Qwest had a weakness, a hole in its otherwise impenetrable armor.
There was a phone number that went straight to Qwest executives, bypassing the minions that
claimed nothing could be done.
Our Hero programmed the number into his cell phone's memory and then dialed it. "Executive Phone
Number, you have always been true to me, qwelling all problems I have had with companies run amok!
Go now and slay yon Qwest for me, ceasing forever my billing problems!"
And the phone number did as it was commanded. It struck straight at the heart of the beast with
such force that it produced not only promises of proper billing in the future, but also made Qwest
cough up $50 worth of credit, just for the trouble.
Our Hero once again returned home, free to enjoy the pleasures of life, knowing that Qwest would
never again bother him.
But you, dear reader, know that to not be the case. For once again, Qwest was not slain, but
merely wounded. And it would come back again with terrible force to do battle with Our Hero.
But that is a story for another day.
Written by: Wenda
Written at: 11:10 27 Sep, 2005