Trinkets

I decided to learn Japanese. To celebrate, I made a video! Don't watch it though. It'll be 4 minutes you never get back.

Leon out.

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Limbo

I have never done heroin. That might come as a surprise to some of you. Or not. I have, however, gone to a party once. Yes, once. I've never completely understood the whole party scene. Just a bunch of funny-dressed people who barely know each other that get together to bob for apples and eat donuts on a string. Why not just get a group of close friends together on Battle Net (StarCraft) and eat the donuts and apples at your leisure? Put that idea in a pot, add some parsley and a dash of freshly-ground sea-salts and you've got yourself a stew going.

I remember the one party I went to quite well. I was in high school. No, middle school. And I had this group of friends and frenemies. One could say that there must have been a bit of drama going on if frenemies were involved. Explanation: I liked Tree. Tree liked Fish. Fish liked Stick's sister, Bob. Bob liked anything with two legs and a muscular physique. Stick liked Candy. Candy liked Paco. Paco liked Candy too, and were it not for the language barrier.... Woody liked Snow but Snow couldn't stand being in the same room as Woody. I don't blame her. He smelled bad. Snow liked me. No, wait... I don't think anyone actually liked me. As you can see, there is a high probability that at least one frenemy existed within our group, given that epsilon is greater than 0.

Back to the party (not that I'd ever want to literally go back there), people were dressed funny. I remember pizza. I remember bobbing for apples and winning a donut-on-a-string-eating-contest. I've never lost an eating contest. Or a water drinking contest. And then somebody got a stick (not Stick, mind), held one end, someone else grabbed the other end, Candy pumped some Stayin' Alive by the Bee Gees. People started lining up in their dumb costumes with their dumb walks and silly dance moves, and attempting ever-so-carefully to lean backwards and touch the underside of the stick with their right nostril. The Limbo. I was 6 foot 3 in middle school: I abhorred the Limbo. In that sentence, I described my true feelings by both a strong word AND italicization. Take that, stupid stick-game. I still hate the Limbo: both the game and the state-of-being.

To protect the identity of those involved, the names and/or ethnic backgrounds were changed. Tree ended up dating Fish on and off. She moved away just before 9th grade, ne'er to return. I was heart-broken. Fish stuck around for a few years, but blamed his parents for his awful name which undoubtedly caused most of his failures and bad luck. He never became a rockstar or an actor or a clown. Stick fought real hard for a chance with Candy; alas he fought in vain and never did get his chance. Paco did, however, but by the time he learned English and mustered the courage to make his move, Candy was already taken by the class clown, Steve. I never did like that name. Steve. Unless it's followed by Lambson or preceded by "Eh!" Woody and Snow never spoke again. In fact, Woody moved away long before that party ever took place! Snow ended up striking gold by getting a hip gig with the local paper as chief editor: her dream job. That didn't actually happen. All of us are now happily married with children and life couldn't be better!

Wait.....

......errrr......

.....all of us but me. I'm still playing Limbo.

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Probability Zero

What to write about? Hmm.... Here's the deal: I have a lot on my mind. I have aleph-not things on my mind. If you were to ask what aleph-not is, I, or any brilliantly minded engineer or mathematician would respond:

Simple. It's the cardinality of infinity.

In other words, if you were to take the set of all real numbers, the set of all even numbers, the set of all forks and spoons and knives and xboxes, multiply them together using set-multiplication (I'm sure I made that one up), and came up with a count of how many elements there were in those sets, you would get an immensely large number.

Now, given that you are found within that set (maybe count you among the xboxes or spoons) (since I'm sure you like to spoon) (who doesn't?), and assume also that you are a Guinness world record claustrophobe, it might be a little crowded. What do you do in that case?

You keep fighting. Make your place in the set. Become a king. I don't know. Why are you inquiring such preposterous questions anyway? What, do you not have the world's best search engine at your finger tips? And I'm not talking about Bing. Wow. That's twice I've mentioned the dreaded Microsoft (3 times) in this post. And I don't even LIKE Microsoft (4)! Make sense of that!

You're still with me, I presume. Maybe you are with probability 0 exactly the opposite of "with me." Maybe you don't know what it means to do or be anything with probability 0. Remark: with probability 0, I will not buy Avatar when it comes out next week. I'm looking at purchasing a [new] Mazda 3 hatchback with probability 1. You see the difference? I know you see it. You're smart.

I'm still not sure where I'm headed. I could be talking about this blog, meaning it could end and you would be none the better off. If you're really smart, like I know you are, you could interpret my entire meaning of this whole thing. If you get it, I'll give you a dollar next time I see you. I like that. Please, interpret the meaning of this post in the comments section.

I'll give you some hints:

• I am, with probability 0, referring in any way to mathematical concepts and set theory. My discussion on the matter is only a metaphor.
• I'm not talking about Star Trek.

Speaking of Star Trek, or of not Star Trek, have you guys watched any Hayao Miyazaki films? I'll name a few. Howl's Moving Castle, Spirited Away, Nausicaa in the Valley of the Wind, Castle in the Sky, Porco Rosso, Kiki's Delivery Service, Princess Monoke. Please, please, please check them out.

End.

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QT

I've been in a silly mood all day, thanks to a little thing I like to call my brain. And a man I'm going to call QT. The QT, as some of you know, can stand for a nigh-infinite number of things.

I know what you're thinking, and I quote, "Oh. No. Every this guy gets in a silly mood, his posts become harder and harder and harder to read. I just can't keep up with the immensely inaccurate details he puts in his posts, and the speed at which he changes frequencies. It's startling, really. I'm just going to skip this post."

O' what sad times are these when passing bloggers can skip blunderingly silly posts at will. Even fellow bloggers like myself are getting discouraged by the amount of skipping going on presently! It's quite silly, I say!

Earlier today, my sister (that is, my work sister) told me I was quite silly. She quit today, and it makes me really sad. And then on the way home, I passed a sign that said QT on the top left corner. Or maybe it's the top right corner. But it's a huge QT in white letters with a red background. Hell, I'll just show you:

I forgot to mention the shadow falling downwards and to the right of the white font. Just one of the few mistakes I will ever admit to making. Now you may have already clicked on the image above. If you did, it took you to a gas station website called QuikTrip. These convenient stores are, curiously enough, conveniently placed throughout the midwest. You go there, you, and no matter where they are (i.e. in the ghetto, i.e. Columbia, MO), you feel safe. They are clean. They have pigs-in-a-blanket. And if you don't know what thems are, freckles, you best get'cho self outta yo' hole 'n git one!

Now here's the scoop. The advent of an idea received by means of subliminal messaging. The real occurrence that comes to pass each and every time I coast (in neutral) or slow (with the brake) or fly (at 75 mph) or lazily list past the bright-white, boldly-shadowed letters surrounded with a nasty ketchup-stained, rounded-edged box that makes up a logo for a hip and hype gas station with pigs-in-a-blanket is this: QT = this lovely little man. I think he's crazy. I think I'm crazy! If you're still reading this, then I think YOU'RE crazy! And because of those two letters, so strategically placed in my direct line of vision, I think of his movies and I get this ever-destroying desire to watch one. And on days like today, I get home, open my metal box shut tight and locked with a key and a little slit near the top which acts as an opening, and there's a Netflix DVD, written and directed (the movie, not the DVD) by QT himself. Eerie.

Inquiry: will you be around [location removed] come the beginning of May? I will be hosting a QT marathon on my one couch, two camp chairs, a Rock Band drum set, and 100-inch diagonal screen. You're more than welcome to come.

Notice the foreshadowing. If you can guess what foreshadowing is taking place, I'll buy you something. You have a .17 probability of guessing right. I did the math.

I'm going to go get a cheeseburger.

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