Lost
Friday, September 30, 2005
Sweet baby Jesus, I just finished the first season of
Lost. I can't believe allt he stuff that happened in the last few episodes! Who was this Arzt guy and where the hell did come from? At first I thought he was going to be Boone's replacement in the cast, which pissed me off because Arzt was lame. He whined like a little girl all the time. I'm guessing the writers hated him, too, after watching that last episode. Sweet shit.
It just dawned on me how big a role the numbers are playing in this show. It just clicked that all the survivors were in the rows of the numbers. And the numbers show up everywhere in the background and scenery. I'm almost tempted to go back and watch the whole season again to figure out where else the numbers show up. I almost used the numbers to be the title of this post, but I'm pretty freaked out by them. Stupid superstitions.
Locke is starting to freak me out, too. I thought he used to be the badass that was going to do everything and take the lead. Why didn't jack just let him go down the hole? Honestly. And all that effort wasted on the hatch...
And when are Jack and Kate going to hook up? Damnit, I wouldn't have waited this long if I were him. He must be gay.
Damnit! I'm dieing to see the next episodes. Why didn't I have the will power to finish the first season two weeks ago before the second one started? Why? WHY?
Author: Goat » Comments:
The Killers
Thursday, September 29, 2005
I bought The Killers' album, "Hot Fuss," at lunch today and it is already becoming one of my favorites. Granted, they've got nothing on bands like Cake (who is probably my favorite overall), but I get the same feeling from this album that I got when I first listened to Blues Traveler's "Four," The Wallflowers' "Bringing Down the Horse," and most recently, Maroon 5's "Songs About Jane." I get the lines
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier stuck in my head for hours at a time and it never seems to get old -- kinda like the 7 minute ending to the Beatles' "Hey Jude." Pure musical genius.
To be honest, I've never been able to keep on top of the music industry. I blame the fact that I couldn't afford to buy CDs until just recently. Cake's "Rock 'n Roll Lifestyle" struck home with the lyric
Is it you or you parents
in this income tax bracket?
I know, iTunes and other sites sell individual songs for cheap. Call me old-fashioned (I won't be offended), but I like buying the whole album. If a band can't produce an entire album worth buying, then I don't see a reason to support them. I've got a few other bands and albums on my list, but until I have enough saved up for my Mustang I'll just have to buy them one at a time.
Author: Goat » Comments:
Engineers Write Good
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Yes, I realize that there is a grammatical mistake in the title of this post. That's exactly the point. I had to read about 25 documents today that were written by fellow engineers and I think I am now dumber for having done so. The purpose of these documents is to make an estimate of how many hours it would take to complete a specific task and then justify the estimate. They were so poorly written that if these engineers had been simply making the statement "2+2=4," even Stephen Hawking would question its validity. This is why I'm glad I picked Notre Dame over Purdue. I could have been an socially awkard uber-nerd had I been a Boilermaker, but instead I am a socially awkward uber-nerd who has a finer appreciation for things that don't involve theorems, equations and computers.
After reading about 20 documents, I wrote an email to my parents thanking them for teaching me to write well and to take pride in everything I do, even small tasks. I'm no Shakespeare -- my freshman composition professor once asked me, "You aren't going to be an English major, are you?" -- but I can at least convey my thoughts in a rational and coherent manor. Well, at least when I'm not rambling like I am in this blog...
In other news, I just found out this week that the proposal I'm working on has been extended until Christmas. By the time I finally get to live in LA, I will have spent 6 months in DC. At least I finally got my Interim clearance. It's not a full-blown Secret clearance, but it's a start. Hopefully I'll get to start seeing some cool stuff instead of just reading crappy documents and surfing the net all day. There's only so much of NDNation that one can take.
Author: Goat » Comments:
War Against the Ants, Pt. I
Monday, September 26, 2005
I returned home this weekend to find our apartment kitchen overrun with ants. Nothing too special, just your garden variety, tiny black ants. But they were marching an serious offensive on battlefields which were our cabinets. "Yeah, we've been using Weapons of Mass Destruction to fight them," my roommate John tells me as he points out the ant traps on the walls.
Emboldened by my roommates' cunning and bravery, I grabbed a paper towel and became a WMD myself, wiping out hundreds of ants on our counter in one fell swoop. They didn't go down without a fight, though; several ants made their way onto my hands and were navigating through the jungle of arm hair towards my brain (which they were no doubtedly planning to eat).
While I was up in Seattle, Booter stumbled on the ants' newest front, the dishwater. Waging war on the leftovers falling off the plates inside, the relentless army was unaware of their impending doom. To quote Booter, "I went Moses on their asses." Little did the ants know that their gluttony would be their demise. Somehow I don't think they would have cared if they had known.
Despite these decisive blows, the war wages on. Until we can find their headquarters (or "nest", if you will) the ants will continue to fight with ceaseless élan until our kitchen is nothing but a huge anthill. Try as we might, peace is not an option. They must be destroyed!
DEATH TO THE ANTS!!
Author: Goat » Comments:
Staring at the Ceiling
Friday, September 16, 2005
The past few night I've had a lot of trouble falling asleep, which is odd because two of those days I had biked over 16 miles so I should have been tired. But no, I get into bed and just end up laying there. After about an hour of trying to sleep last night, I just stared at the ceiling. I don't think this job is challenging enough. It's weird going from graduate school, where you have more shit to deal with than you can handle, to a real job, where I spend the majority of my day surfing the internet because there's nothing to do. It's not like I should complain, though. (1) My boss had no idea they were going to cut our team's funding, which would force us onto this new project which has nothing to do with actual engineering. (2) I'm getting paid well. So enough of the whining.
I've gotten some good biking in this week. About 16 miles on Tuesday and 18 miles last night. I'm going nuts on this new hobby. This week alone I bought a speedometer/odometer for the bike, a wedge bag, a spare inner tube, tire levers and a spoke wrench. I've already ruined two hotel washclothes trying to get grease off my hands. It's about the only thing I have to look forward to in the week. There's a week in early October where I have to go to a different office about 10 miles from the hotel, and I think I'm going to bike there everyday. It'll sure as hell save money on gas.
Now that it's the weekend, I have other things to look forward to. Jism's holding a "Mexican Independence Day" party tonight where everyone is bringing their favorite fifth of alcohol. I, of course, am bringing some delicious Maker's Mark. Something tells me there are going to be some wasted people there tonight.
The Fightin' Irish take on the Spartans of Michigan State on Saturday. After a 17-10 victory over arch-nemesis Michigan last week, the boys in blue are looking to continue their domination of the Big 10 teams by winning their home opener under Charlie Weis. I don't know about you guys, but this doesn't look like the ND team of the Davie/Willingham eras. The offense has poise and attacks a game plan. I've never seen lead blocking this good on an Irish team! (I only started watching in 1999) The defense is aggressive, hits hard, and actually makes tackles! The special teams held Michigan's Breaston, a premier punt returner, to minimal yards last week!
I can't say I'm not nervous, though. Call me Lou Holtz, but I'm still in the mindset that ND could potentially lose any game on the schedule. Including those "vicious animals", the Washington Huskies. I'm less worried about that one than Michigan State, though. I figure with our talent and superior coaching staff, we'll pull off the win in South Bend. My prediction:
Notre Dame: 31
Michigan St: 17
If you want to celebrate a touchdown during the game, give me a call. I will most likely be sitting alone in my hotel room with a 6-pack of beers, yelling at the TV and scaring my neighbors. Next weekend will be better, as I'm going to the UW game to visit the one and only Alaska. I can only hope that we will top off the Irish victory over Ty with some NBA Jam and Lime-flavored Tostitos. Mmmmm..... NBA Jam.... *drools*
Author: Goat » Comments:
Step down, Sandra B.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
For the longest time, Sandra Bullock has been at the top of my list. Ever since I saw
Speed at the age of 13 I have been ga-ga over the hot brunette with the girl-next-door charm. Coincidentally,
Speed was the first time I ever experienced the atrocious acting of Keanu Reeves. How does that guy keep getting work?!? Not only that, but he got to make out with Sandra. Bastard.
But over the past year or so I've become more and more disenchanted with Miss Congeniality. Maybe it's the fact that she's getting older or that's she's now married. Maybe it's the ugly-ass outfits she's been wearing on late shows here lately. Let's face it, she's old and busted, and it's time for new hotness.
So I present to you my new favorite actress/crush/whatever you want to call it. She plays the mo-fine Kate Austen on the new hit series
Lost, and her name is
Evangeline Lilly. I'm betting that's not her real name but a pseudonym. Who names their daughter "Evangaline" these days? Although, she is from Canada, so who knows. I think Canada is still trying to apologize for Bryan Adams by giving us this beautiful and seemingly talented actress. I can't pass too much judgement on the acting skills because, other than
Lost, the most intriguing role she has played is "Dead body" in
The Long Weekend.
Interestingly enough, Evangaline bears a striking resemblance to
Karen Swanson, whom I had a crush on my first two years at ND. I even asked her to the Zahm Spring Formal my sophomore year, but she had to attend the women's basketball team SYR to celebrate their National Championship. Rooster can confirm this as he asked
Meaghan Leahy to the Fisher Formal that same night. He got the same response, only he got invited to said party. About six baritones decided to walk 3 miles to the house on Washington St. where the party was held only to find out we knew no one there. After about 20 minutes of sitting in the living room in a tight cluster, we left.
I still have no idea if Karen ever made the connection the next year when her brother joined the baritone section as a freshman. Oh, and she's married now. Oose.
Author: Goat » Comments:
Hail to the King, Baby.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I was going to title this entry, "Hail to the Losers," in honor of the Irish victory over Meeechigan, but for some reason the quote made me think of Bruce Campbell in Army of Darkness. I think that might be one of my favorite movies ever. How could anyone not like a movie with such awesome quotes as "I posess the Necronomenon!", "Give me some sugar, baby," and "Klaatu, Verata, Ni-...." Honestly, the movie is poorly made, has a terrible plot and evenn worse acting. But I love it nonetheless.
I got to go home this weekend for a whole two days and visit with my roommates and friends. A bunch of my EE friends from ND who I haven't seen since graduation came over to watch the game, so that made the Irish victory that much more sweet. Saturday night was Mel's birthday outting at the Tavern on Main. It started out well enough, but eventually turned into Bret and I "protecting" Mel and Jess from their would-be stalkers. It's a good thing I have a girlfriend, or else being the guy that girls keep around to avoid making out with other guys might be a blow to the old self-esteem.
Mel's brother bought her a Blow Job shot and she was incapable of taking it. I have yet to see a girl correctly take a Blow Job shot. Granted, I've only seen it attempted about three times, but still. In Mel's defense, her mouth is apparently too small to fit around the shot glass. That's a better reason than the girl Rooster was trying to date senior year, who was so grossed out by the whole process that she just took it like a normal shot. Lame.
The best part of the weekend (and by "best," I mean "worst") was when I opened my car door and was knocked over by a wall of odor that seemed to be a mix of cat urine, dead fish, vomit, mildew and dog feces. After a quick inspection of the interior, I could find no reason for the smell, but good lord, it stunk to high heavens. Poor Mel had to suffer through it as we drove to Mass. Of course I didn't find out about it until Sunday night, so the only thing I had time to do was dowse the whole interior with Renuzit odor elimnator and to place a half dozen boxes of baking soda in the car.
I later figured out that two gallon containers of water in my trunk had leaked and had soaked the trunk and back seat. That and two weeks of sitting in direct sunlight turned my Civic into a mildew spawning ground. The best part? I won't be in LA for more than an night again until October 6 -- a month away. I fully expect the interior of my car to be covered with a thick green fuzz when I return. I think I'll call it the "Penicillin-mobile."
Check out pictures from this weekend
here.
And remember, "Shop smart. Shop S-Mart."
Author: Goat » Comments:
Head-butt Your Dog!!
Friday, September 09, 2005
It's the beginning of a new era at ND, and tomorrow the victim is Meeechigan. The Irish will travel up to Ann Arbor to that ugly excuse for a stadium called "The Big House" and shock 100,000 plus as they put an over-ranked Wolverine team in its place. And in the process, they'll quiet that stupid band and its lame fight song that all you can hear is "Hail! clap clap clap clap clap clap Hail! clap clap clap clap clap clap Hail! Hail! clap clap clap clap clap clap clapppp clap-clap")
So watch out, Meeechigan; Charlie's Army is coming to town. Run for the hills! Hide in the trees! Head-butt your dog! Mayhem is knocking at your door, and he ain't selling chocolates.
Goat's prediction:
Notre Dame 31
Michigan 24
Author: Goat » Comments:
That Crazy Bear
Thursday, September 08, 2005
For some reason or another, something reminded me of Paddington Bear. If you were lucky enough as a child to watch an episode of Paddington Bear, you know that he was a fuzzy little stuffed bear that wore a blue corduoroy jacket, a big black hat with the front rim flipped up, and no pants. (I don't know what it is about characters on childrens shows and not wearing pants, but it seems to be a pattern that's running rampant.) You also know that Paddington was the only character in the show that wasn't a cut out piece of paper.
Paddington was best known for his love of peanut butter. Man, every episode he'd find a way to get into the peanut butter, and usually at one of the human's expense. He'd be holding the ladder for the father of the family (is it his family? better yet, why is there a walking, talking stuffed bear?) anyways, Paddington's holding the ladder for the father while he cleaned the gutters or something, and the father sends him in to get a tool. Well, Paddington, be the dumb bear that he is, goes to the kitchen to look for the tool. He doesn't even know what the tool is or looks like. As he's looking around he stumbles across the peanut butter in the pantry. He then spends the next 5 minutes of the show making and eating a peanut butter sandwich. Meanwhile, the father is still up on the ladder when a strong gust of wind knocks him off and he falls to his bloody death. Paddington hears the noise and investigates, and upon seeing the dead father shrugs and says, "Hmm, this is a delicious peanut butter sandwich," then walks off and the cartoon is over.
That was the basic plot-line of each episode. And yet, I would find myself watching it often as a child. What possessed me to keep watching this terrible show? We'll never know.
Ironically, the show was British, which explains why it was so terrible.
Author: Goat » Comments:
Where Cyclists Pee
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
To cure my boredom out here in Fairfax, VA, I bought myself a road bike. It's nothing special, just an old red Nishiki Olympic. After about two times out on it I decided I looked silly wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt while all the other bikers had on spandex shorts and jerseys with pockets on their backs. So I went to the local bike shop to get my own hardcore biking outfit. I'm looking at the shorts they have in stock and they all have this over-sized maxi pad looking thing in the crotch. The first thing that pops in my head is, "So
that's how Lance Armstrong can ride for 100km without stopping to pee." Upon using a few more brain cells to contemplate the matter, I figured out it's a cushion for your crotch. Instantly, a collective "Ahhhhh" from two tiny voices (apparently belonging to my nuts) echoes through my head.
The best thing about this investment so far is that all the gear -- shorts, jersey, helmet, gloves, cages and water bottles -- set me back about 160 clams, which is 35 more than what I paid for the bike. And I still need sunglasses, and will probably need to replace the back wheel and both tires before too long. It's all good, though. More motivation to get out there amongst the crazy motorists.
That's another thing; motorists around here
are crazy. They're in a hurry to get somewhere. Running stop signs and redlights, pulling out in front of fast moving traffic. I don't know where the deuce they're in a hurry to get to. This is the most boring town I've ever lived in. It's just a bunch of upper middle class suburban families. Plus, every time I roll up to a red light on my bike, I hear someone in the car next to me say, "Oh look, it's a guy on a bicycle," like they've never seen one before. Welcome to the 21st Century, folks.
Author: Goat » Comments:
Getting My Ears Lowererd
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
I went to get a haircut tonight, which is a frightening experience when you’re not in your hometown. I strolled into a local hair stylist here in Fairfax hoping to get an appointment. It was called “The Finishing Touch” and I could tell immediately upon entering that this was more of a place where ladies go, but they gladly put me down on their sheet.
Let me give an idea of where I’m coming from. For the first 18 years of my life I went to the same barber, Russ Carrithers. Russ was an old codger with overgrown facial features that men get as they get older. He wore plastic rimmed glasses and smoked a pipe, which was the cause of his gravelly voice. His barber shop had the traditional red-and-white striped pole outside and when you walked in you were greeted by a hearty “Hello!” and the aroma of pipe tobacco, and when you sat down in the barber chair – not one of those puny chairs you see in styling salons but an honest-to-God, 500-lb. chair made of sheet metal from Highland, IL that has a huge cushion, an ash-tray in the arm rest, a foot-rest that swiveled, and a big handle on the side for raising and lowering the hydraulic lift – well when you sat down in it, you knew you were going to get a real haircut. Now, there’s getting your hair cut – which involves someone taking scissors or clippers to your hair and eventually making you look less like a scrub than before – and then there’s a haircut. A haircut is an experience and Russ was a master at it.
He’d pull out his scissors, start snipping away and launch into one the many crazy anecdotes he had hidden up his sleeve. And boy did he have some doozeys. They ranged from stories about him chasing girls through the woods when he was a kid to how one of his customers lost his dog and spent two months looking for him, and when he finally found the mutt was chewing on a wad of $100 bills. Okay, so maybe I don’t remember the real stories anymore, but they were always seemingly exaggerated and when he got to the end he would step away from the chair slightly, point his scissors at one of guys sitting in the waiting chairs, deliver the punch-line and laugh a raspy, throaty laugh. Sometimes he would repeat the punch-line then bend over and slap his knee. He told actual knee-slappers! Then he’d segue into another story. And if he didn’t have another story ready, he’d comment on some current topic or comment on his beloved Kentucky Wildcats if it were sports season or just humming sound old-timey song. The whole time, he’s just going nuts on your hair, chopping away – and doing a good job of it, too!
Back at “The Finishing Touch,” I got put with a stylist named Rose. (Side note: the last time I encountered a woman named Rose in a public place, she was a waitress at Steak ‘n Shake and my friend AniMal asked her if she masturbated). Rose seemed a little put off by her job and looked like she could have been the Bride of Frankenstein had her hair stood 3 feet off her head. Luckily for her, her hair was pretty short and well-styled, as a stylist’s hair should be. She seemed hesitant, asking me if my previous stylists/barbers used scissors or trimmers for trimming the sides and back. She tried to initiate some small-talk but after the first five minutes she went silent. I guess that’s when I knew it wasn’t going to be a very good hair cut. She plowed away for a while longer, trimming and cutting very precisely. There was no finesse when she trimmed the back of my neck – in fact, she hit a mole with the trimmers which caused it to bleed. I didn’t notice until she said something about it and I could tell she seemed nervous about the whole affair. “I end up doing it to all the guys who come in; I don’t know why.” Guess it’s my own fault for going to a place where mostly women get their hair cut. Just when I thought she was done, she started trimming away again, trying to make it perfect. She must have gone on for another 10 minutes.
When it was all said and done, she did a pretty good job. I tipped her as I left (which I always do… always try to make friends with someone who uses scissors within inches of your head). My hair looked good but I felt kind of gypped. Thirty minutes of sitting in the chair and I had nothing to take away from it. I had to think a long time before I came up with that Bride of Frankenstein comment. One should come out of a haircut with a feeling of camaraderie and an over-all feeling of anticipation about getting to come back in a few weeks. Next time I’ll look for a place with the red-and-white striped pole spinning out front and an old codger of a barber inside.
p.s. - As far as I still know, Russ still lives in Crestwood, KY. He doesn’t have his barber shop anymore, but still give haircuts to his long-time clients out of the back of his house. He wrote a collection of his stories entitled “The Making of God’s Little Barber (and Life in the Barber Shop)” which you can purchase here:
http://www.oldhamcounty.com/book/
Author: Goat » Comments:
Sweet baby Jesus, I just finished the first season of Lost. I can't believe allt he stuff that happened in the last few episodes! Who was this Arzt guy and where the hell did come from? At first I thought he was going to be Boone's replacement in the cast, which pissed me off because Arzt was lame. He whined like a little girl all the time. I'm guessing the writers hated him, too, after watching that last episode. Sweet shit.
