this is how I’m white
I love REI. I like to think that I don’t care about fashion or image like “those” people, but today I went into Dick’s Sports Authority Chalet and tried every which way to justify in my mind paying over $100 for a North Face killer fleece. Honestly, I want the label. I could care less about Armani, mostly because it’s way out of my price range and therefore pretentious. But North Face is just out of my reach, I mean, it’s right there, teasing me, tempting me, telling me how much better of an outdoorsmen I’d be if only my clothes said North Face, or Marmot, which I think is the less pretentious North Face. North Face is for Yuppies though, I tell myself. North Face is for those looser, wannabe campers from the city who can only light a fire with a duraflame and a $30 zippo. It’s for the pretenders, the fancy people who think of camping as a hobby. For people who don’t crap in the woods. (Finally found where that stupid Pope in the woods joke comes from…thanks uncyclopedia specifically here, some content inappropriate) But it’s also for the serious people who climb Everest. And maybe that’s where my heart, well, ego, gets courted. Somewhere deep down in there I’m the little camper who wants to be taken seriously and thinks that if I have the right branded equipment it’ll convince me of having what I really want, which is actual confidence. How do you get that? Anyone?
Hmm. On a lighter note: a follow up to my last post. This is also very, very bad. I’m embarrassed and just plain appalled. I want to simultaneously make fun of someone and vomit.
living room camping
Two days ago, wait, no, a while back we decided to try out another color for the walls in our bedroom. Two days ago Tina got all serious and went to priming. To accomplish this we moved our bed out into the new master bedroom, the living room. The box spring is in the hall. All of a sudden I feel like we’re in college again. From where I sit I can see through the upright bed frame leaning on the bookshelf supported by the dresser to the freshly painted Dawn’s Early Light (or is it Lite) Blue wall. It’s light blue. I’m hoping that by this evening we’ll be moved back in.
Other hopes:
We’ll find the TV remote
I’ll never see the dust under the bed until we move
Our neighbor stops smoking outside our window
Bakersfield weather stops trying to convert all the conservatives to believing in global warming
compelled
I’m in what used to be Rudolph’s Coffee & Tea, now West End Espresso & Tea, in San Luis Obispo, listening to the Fryderyk Chopin station on Pandora, on a Thursday night while Farmer’s Market patrons parade themselves in front of me, turn around, and parade back through the half fog half BBQ smoke haze past shouts of “TRI-TIP!!” and whispers of Apocalyptic warning and free almond samples.
How can I not blog.
graffiti animation
This is pretty crazy. It’s a little weird. A little scary. A little amazing.
Same goes for this:
it hurts because it’s true
I love the Onion, especially when they make fun of Christians. This is great.
Favorite quote from this article was: “What the gravity-agenda scientists need to realize is that ‘gravity waves’ and ‘gravitons’ are just secular words for ‘God can do whatever He wants.’”
Then: “…paper published simultaneously this week in the International Journal Of Science and the adolescent magazine God’s Word For Teens!” (extra point for the exclamation point!)
Bottom note: While googling (not facebooking) God’s Word for Teens out of hopes that I would come across an actual magazine, the top hit sent me here. I think Google’s AdSense was well placed.
minutes of fun
All you music fans prepare yourself for a Daft Punk revival, (hey man, they never went away).
“google-ing” yourself is so last something
We move onward, welcome to the future. I’m sure somebody else may have done this before on accident, but I would like to claim here and now that I am the first person in the history of the internet to “Facebook” myself. This is way more entertaining than “google-ing” yourself.
Exhibit A:
As you can see, yours truly, arrives at the top. My guess is that this happens for everyone who “Facebooks” themselves. (I haven’t decided whether it’s “facebook’s” or “facebooks”, the latter is more correct, right Ryan?, but the first may be more used considering kids these days, either way, I’m taking credit.) Note the third entry’s clever use of slightly tilted photo of the mirror, props to Ben Folds Songs for Silverman album art. Also, the child looks frightened, and as we all know, this may just be a picture of Adam Loveridge #2’s kid, or for that matter, my future child, but, not offense, my kid will be slightly very ridiculously much more cute.
Exhibit 2:
I’ve included the two surrounding the middle dude just to prove that this is real. I can see the resemblance in the last guy, we could be cousins, sure. But let’s focus on the middle person. I’m embarrassed. Nobody thinks this is sexy. Listen buddy, you’ve got a great name, why you messin’ it all up with your overly distant glance, your too-small pillow, stupid wanna-be Brad Pitt but more likely crazy Britney fan close-up, and fake soft focus. You’re messing it up for the rest of us pal.
Exhibit C:
Hey, let’s be friends. I’m digging Plymouth and your Joel-Short-esque-looks. Keep it up.
Exhibit Scary:
I blame the Westcliff High School for Boys. At least you followed Brett Erlich’s rules.
Exhibith signs of slurring:
Yeah London, that’s not a beer. It’s my fifth beer. And I’m wearing the homemade award for brightest teeth.
I’m sure I’ve ruined my chance of ever being friends with these guys, but I think that may have been true just from the fact that it looks a little silly having yourself as a friend. Plus, it’s confusing. I may just start a group for people with the same name. How awesomey exclusive would that be to have my own group. Pretty soon everyone will be doing it.
Send me your favorite pictures of people with your same name. Go, Facebook yourself.
what do you listen to?
Here’s an entirely unscientific way to make yourself feel super smart or kinda stupid.
