Monday, June 5
Wednesday, May 31
Learn biology with Grandpa!
|Alright, so here's the deal.|
I'm taking two (2) classes for the next 4.5 weeks at the wonderful ASU-Beebe.
Really, the whole class experience (all 4 hours between the two hour lecture and 2 hour lab) was like high school - except no one knew anybody, and there were a few older ladies that decided to join us.
Of course, there was the requisite creepy quasi-military guy, and the nice and pretty but really dumb chick who chatted it up next to me, and the mom-ish woman who never shut up with her stupid questions, and naturally, the pale guy with the speech impediment who took this class seriously.
Then there's the teacher. Hoo-boy. He's in his 60s, probably a grandfather, soft-spoken, white-hair-combover'd, and pretty nice. Kind of a mix between Jack Lemmon (the later, Grumpy Old Men one) and Bob Newhart, since he kind of stumbles here and there. Oh well.
Psychology will be fun. Basically, I read two chapters a week, and take an online 30 minute quiz before 9:00 pm every Saturday. It's just like the old days, when the internet was used for learning and information sharing, and not for buying NES games on eBay and downloading goat movies.
Anyway, that's what I'm up to. For the whole month.
Thursday, May 11
monkeys, chickens, cheese
So I'm back here in V-Town.
Why do we call it V-Town? I mean, I know that it's just what we call it. But seriously. Conway is C-Way. I have it on good authority that Germantown would be G-Town. But V-Town? I don't know. There isn't a "-town" in the name of Vilonia. Unless you count "Township of Vilonia" as the name of it. But no, wait, it's technically a city. So screw that.
I'm back, people. Yeah. As the header says. But the url is the same. I would not change that on a whim. I'm not a rapid-URL-switcher. I'm not the shapeshifter of the blogging world. I'm not running from the blogging KGB (which exists. I'll get to that later). Dammit, I WILL REMAIN WITH MY TECHNICALLY INCORRECT INTERNET ADDRESS.
-New PSP. It was free. My dad won it, and he already had one so I got it. Now I have to buy games and crap. (Not a free lunch, in other words).
-Accompanying/jamming IN CONCERT with Mr. Jonathon "The Brewery" Phillips in about a week. Please be there. If you can.
Sorry, Conan is on. I'll be back with a real post. I have yet to unveil... THE UNIFIED THEORY OF MUSIC AND BEING A MUSICIAN (Part 1). There is only one part, by the way. It's UNIFIED
EDIT: The title is/are what I consider the three funniest comedic devices known to man. What's funnier that Monkeys, or Chickens, or Cheese? Seriously.
Saturday, April 15
I Love/Hate People
|Okay, strap yourselves in.|
I was driving home for Easter weekend on a friday night. It's 10 p.m., I'm halfway between Lonoke and Beebe, going about 60 or so, no cars in sight.
All of a sudden, this guy (let's call him Jimbo) comes up behind me - or, more specifically, I would say he 'zoomed' up behind me. "Zoomed." So anyway, he rides my bumper for about a quarter mile. Aggressive, annoying, whatever. Then Jimbo does the obligatory angry swerve around my apparently dangerously-slow-moving vehicle, and proceeds to swerve back in front of me as masculinely as possible.
Right before this point, I wondered, "what on earth could this person be doing 80 on a two-lane country highway at night for? Surely someone is dying or pregnant." But as soon as this truck pulls around me, I see the obviousness: this particular grey Chevy truck has blue racing stripes. "Oh," I think to myself. "This person is a professional truck-racer. He must think that everyone drives as fast and angry as he does."
However, the fact that he was an alleged truck-racer did not explain his rudeness in riding my bumper and swerving around, so I gave him an annoyed hi-beams flash.
Jimbo did not like this. He proceeded to come to a full stop on this particular highway. I of course do the same, and stop 20 yards behind him. This is where it gets crazy.
Jimbo decides to let me know exactly how he feels about this situation. So, he gets opens his door and steps outside the truck for a moment. I am immediately intimidated by his buzzcut, t-shirt, and grey shorts. (I assume the National Truck-Racing League has pretty lax uniform regulations). He then gives me the hands-up-in-the-air, "Whut? I do what I want. You got a problem, feller?" Something like that, I didn't hear him say anything, but his body language was giving off that special Jerry-Springer, "I-just-found-out-my-mom-is-sleeping-with-my-brother" kind of a vibe.
Now more sure of his manhood than ever, he kind of gets back in the truck and peels out as hard as he and his racing truck can. He zooms off in the night, and I cannot stop laughing.
I'm still laughing now, but, not as hard.
So, folks, there is a moral here: don't pass people unless you are a professional racer, and you have the shorts and the arm-motions to back it up.
Wednesday, April 5
It might as well be spring!
Anyway, it's lovely and Spring-ular outside, and that calls for...
I guess. I don't know.
But it is very nice outside, and the sun shinin' just makes me want to skip, or perhaps frolic, among the wildflowers of the U-of-M campus.
Or not. Because the practice room is lookin' good... oh yeah...
So I really don't have much to say here. I will, however, say that life is cool. I might even venture to say that I'm kicking ass at life. TO THE MAX