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21:34 0603.26
Blog structure update I'm working on modernizing the template structure of the blog, especially with regards to the HTML -- the main blog page template has all the baggage requisite a nearly 4-year-old piece of hypertext. Individual Post | Comments (1) 00:37 0603.19 SPRING BREAK SUMMATION Yeah, so, Spring Break is basically over. I'd like to revive the format I devised in a post from April 2005 to review it. Standard reviewing numbers (-7 to +7) apply. + 3 P. Blizzle is the center of the universe* and the family Hanes are the best ever. - 1 9 hours driving is still teh suck no matter how it is broken down. + 5 Oh goodness, Neuhaus. + 3 Oh goodness, my bed is bigger than I am. - 6 Oh goodness, my back is so totally screwedwar. + 3 Wen to a chiropractor and it feels a good deal better. - 3 Didn't get hardly antything done on fixing my website. + 1 The front page isn't absolutely awful in IE now, though. - 2 Didn't write a humor column like I wanted to. + 2 Data is a positronic pimp. + 1 The passat got the 15k service on time. GERMAN ENGINEERING IN ZE HAUS. + 4 Saw Matt and Seamus. - 2 Nazz was already back in West Laf-fing out loud. Raw score: +8 Average: +.61, a score roughly in the middle of "okay" and "decent". * The universe appears, like an elipse, to have (at least) two foci: one being Poplar Bluff and the other, of course, being Nazzy's nose. Individual Post | Comments (3) 11:37 0603.6 Economic Catharsis, WEEKEND UPDATE So, as you may or may not know, I have a subscription to the The Economist the finest English-language news magazine on the planet. The Economist, being a weekly periodical on world political and economic events, is, by its very nature, a time-critical publication, and, as such, has a sell date on the cover, spanning a week. Normally, the Harding University mail office, in cooperation with the United States Postal Service, sees fit to deliver my subscription somewher on or after the end of said sell date. Now, in the past, I've talked to the clerks about this, and they assure me that they make every effort to put mail into the box the day it is delivered, and I have no reason to believe that this was said in anything but good faith. This, of course, means that my mail is being handed with less than due expedience somewhere upstream. Now, honestly, I couldn't really complain to them about this that much. I'm sure the postal service around here is accustomed to primarily dealing with periodicals of less urgent, monthly conent, like Southern Living, or Teen People -- magazines, which, if they arrive a week after they are published aren't horribly dated. Today, at about 9:50 AM Central Standard Time, I opened campus mail box 13482, and found lying therein a copy of The Economist. It was dated February 25th to March 3rd. Also, it was patently obvious that it had been soaked by rainwater, and futhermore half the cover and pages immediately following were torn up. As it was immediately after chapel, the lines to talk to the clerks (normally to acquire packages in exchange for yellow slips and an ever-escalating scheme of indentity verification) were rather long, and so I waited there, in the line staffed by two full-time employees, not wanting to talk to a fellow student. When I reached the counter, it took most of my morning's energy not to yell at them. Of course, the fact that Dean Collins, who plays the role of Vice Principal at Harding University Middle School, was standing in the other line helped to calm me. I explained to them in a vaguely calm voice that while I was accustomed to receiving my mail three, five, and even seven days late, but nine days late and in such condition was wholly unacceptable, as I slapped the brutalized magazine onto the counter. The lady who was working the counter -- I don't know her name, but I do enjoy recieving my packages from her, and she does a good job -- didn't say anything, but rather the other employee, a guy, whose name escapes me, examined it, and talked with me about it, ensuring that they do their best to get the mail into our boxes as soon as possible. He further went on to state that he sympathized with me about the sorry state of my copy of the Economist, and asked to have it, in order to show the postmaster. Ah yes, the postmaster. I could have hoped for nothing better. In a way, I was almost jubiliant that such a heinous thing had happened, since I sincerely doubt that mere continued late reception of my subscription would have warranted such escalation. I thanked them both, gave them the thumbs up, and went about my business. The guys says he'll get that edition back to me -- it has the mailing label on it -- but I'm not sure if I'll even be able to use it for a future posterboard collage, much less read it, as it seemed that about half the pages were stuck together. And now, for the fake news. First, me, P. Diddy Burrows, Josh Hollis, and the rest of that crew has been hitting up the new coffehouse here in down late at night. It's called the Underground, and while not undeground or even in a walk-out basement, it is in an abandoned storefront -- probably furniture -- in Searcy's disused central core. I must say, it's rather quality in its environs, has a rather large capacity at around three times the sqare footage of Midnight Oil, oh and also the house band is comprised of Dusty Hanes, Ben Davis (no, not the high school), and James Brown. Friday night, I saw the Johnny Cash moive in the old (barely-)restored pre-desegregation movie house on the courthouse square. It was quite a quality movie, and the ambience of the theater dating from a similar era only enhanced the thing. I then proceeded immediately to said Underground (neither passing go nor collecting 200 dollars) where Grimey, High School and J Bizzle hit it up with their extended blues band (includding J. Witt on the drums, Kyle "Cash Money" Symanowitz on sax, and someone whose name I forget on the keys) before several other acts, most unsuited to the atmosphere -- as it was open mic night and all. I actually ended up sitting with a bunch of Molly Morris' friends, since they said hello first and I think they're all most excellent. Left at 1, since you know, the party don't start 'til I walk in, and I usually don't leave until the thing ends. Lazy Saturday, woke up in the late afternoon, called the Vantine just to see how he's doing. (Hello?) What up Scott? (Yo B-Lamb what's crackin'?) You thinking what I'm thinking? (HP4?) Then it's happ'nin' (But it's not coming on 'til eight plus half-past.) Let’s hit up the Stupid and talk to Luke Snodgrass. No doubt this conversation will be filled with some goodness. (Were the Sea Peoples aliens or just really ruthless?) Crete, Egypt, Turkey, THE LEVANT (Okay, let's instead talk about our European jaunts.) You got some gummy bears? (Got this bag in the Stup'.) Well give me some before I take them foo. (Here, have these yellow ones.) Yellow is the gummy Jews. (Gummy ethnic cleansing is the best.) True that. DOUBLE TRUE. (Some girls stole our seats.) Luke S., what up sucka? What you wanna do, Scott? (TAKE 'EM BACK, MOTHER******) Yo, let's bounce from this hizzy. (The Stupid's over-priced.) Going back to Armstreezy? (Let's hit it up nice.) Don’t want Mrs. Lemmons to get suspicious. (Carrots and soy milk equal CRAZY DELICIOUS!) .... Okay, enough of that. The Parentheticals are supposed to be Scott Vantine, of course. Anyhow, ended up paying two pucks to see Harry Potter Four later that night, it wasn't nearly as awful as I expected. I really have no interest in those books, but, hey, not much else going on. Sunday, went to church, had lunch in Little Rock, got assigned to do some more humor columns. That's about it. Individual Post | Comments (6) |