Okay, despite mostly apathetic but slightly opposing demand, I have decided to move to WordPress.
You can now find everything that's right, mostly wrong, and funny about the world at the following location:
http://moufflets.wordpress.com
Sorry for the inconvenience!
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Should some aspiring blogger happen to want this domain name, please leave an appropriate comment and we'll discuss things over.
School having started on Tuesday, they naturally sent back a bunch of paperwork. Among them were the usual release forms.
Of course no one likes to be sued, understandably, but after taking the time actually read one of these bueauracraticspeech documents, I found this passage:"I agree that under no circumstances will he/she or his/her heirs, executors, administrators and assigns prosecute, present any claim for personal injury, property damage, or wrongful death against said school or any of its officers, agents, or employees for any of said causes of action, whether the same shall arise by the negligence of any said persons, or otherwise."
"...shall arise by the negligence of any said persons or otherwise."
"Or otherwise" !?! What's that supposed to mean? Otherwise can mean a lot of things - among them deliberate and premeditated homicide.
So by signing this form, I am releasing my school to harm me at their leisure while I am doing said activity, and should they do so, I no longer have the right to seek reimbursement. Tell me if this is just wrong?
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Inspired by my parents, of all people, who refused to sign any more release forms because they wanted to school to be liable for at least something.
Humor-blogs.
A lot of things have happened during my six days of music camp, not all of it having to do with making a "box of wood vibrate".
Let's start with the bathrooms.
Very interesting conversations occur in the restroom. While on the toilets, some guys will play a game known as "Would you Rather...", usually comparing girls and discussing their pros and cons.
Furthermore, while in the shower, men are not so manly. I was sitting in my cabin one night, and all of a sudden, hysterical screaming erupts and two juniors run out of the shower room - one with a toothbrush in his mouth and one with only his boxers on (nothing to worry, since as one guy said, also in the shower, "most guy's boxers are longer than most girl's shorts").
"Oh my god!" "AHHHH!" "AHHH!" "AHHHHH!"
Naturally, we all ask what happens.
"There's a fricken huge lizard in there!" Turns out, the lizard isn't all that big, but they freak out anyways. The three guys are in the showers are standing half in and half out, trying to kill the thing. One attempts to give the thing poisoning by covering it with his shampoo. Every time the lizard moves, they jump and scream! Sometime later, they finally killed it, and left it in two pieces under a trash can.
Then there was more faux-homosexuality, with several peeking-toms in the showers and some in the cabins.
Also, we experienced some aromatic issues at camp. When you spend your entire day in your shoes in an unbelievably dusty environment, things tend to start smelling.
However, some people forgot to pack some air-freshener, so they resorted to what they thought was the next best thing: Axe.
Now Axe is a type of deodorant advertised as some kind of spray-on love charm that will attract women. However, the majority of women do not like the smell of Axe, nor do a large number of men. Axe used as an air-freshener results in a smell quite similar to Axe+__odor__, which will become quite unbearable. In the case of Axe+flatulence, not only will the smell be unbearable, it will in fact become quite lethal. You wouldn't want to do anything that might cause a spark anywhere near the scene of the smell.
Pranks. I would love to say that I have amazing and sadistic prank stories to tell, but I sadly I have none, partly because I'm not a senior yet and because I'm just so nice. The only thing I did was help duct tape some freshies' stuff to the ceiling. So sorry folks.
Foosball. We have become addicted to foosball over the course of several days. We wake up to foosball, we have foosball for lunch, and we have foosball for dinner. Can't get enough of it. And please, no spinning - for the sake of the table at the very least.
Feet. Don't forget to bring your own masseuse. Standing takes a lot out of you, and sitting crosslegged is one of the most awkward positions in the world. And band thinks that just because they have march they work harder.
That's it for now. Check back soon for more, maybe...
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Spray little Axe, add a little fart, light a match and BOOM! Humor-blogs.
I am afraid to say that I have been watching a drama show. Corner With Love on Channel 18 LA.
Oh the hypocrisy! Of course, I can try to redeem myself. Afterall, I did need a dose of drama in my life. I've just been doing mindless things like Counter-Strike and Warcraft III when I should be trying to plug in the rather large holes in my Algebra 2 knowledge.
And it's not like I'm addicted to the show anyways. I was just trying to analyze it's crappy transitions and advertisement butchering. They do have funny sound effects at the right moment though.
I've also realized that it takes a great deal of patience to watch one of these shows. There were so many flashbacks that you'd think the producers were nostalgic. Of course, it might be some profit-maximizing technique. Recycling scenes - very environmental friendly. I also had to resist the urge to strangle some of the characters for obvious stupidity, as well as this one character who had this uber-annoying naive and nagging voice.
To it's credit however, my parents noted that they were actually incorrect in predicting the outcome of the story. The main character's dad was missing for the whole part of the story, and my parents were placing bets that he was the character's lover or was some wealthy man who would suddenly make the character rich. Wrong.
See? I'm not really a hypocrite afterall.
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I will be gone for a week at some hidden music camp. Visit Humor-blogs while I'm gone.
I have been contemplating about moving my blog to WordPress. What do you guys think?
I've noticed a recent trend that's been occurring around my school: faux-homosexuality.
At least I think it's fake. It seems mainly afflict the male gender. Many of them will go around making homosexual remarks and do things to each other that no self-respecting heterosexual male would do.
All one needs to do is just take a few looks at some Facebook examples. It's like some of my friends are Borat come to life.
But for some ironic reason, people who do this usually will never admit that they truly are gay. And even the truly gay people don't go to this kind of extreme, I don't think.
Maybe it's just that longing to try the other side, I don't know. But whatever it is, it's pretty disrespectful to gay people as well as self-degrading.
So to my friends, unless you really are homosexual, you really shouldn't fake it.
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Humor-blogs, anyone?
I have finally watched some of NBC's sliced, diced, edited, and narrated monoply broadcast of the 2008 Olympics Opening Ceremony in Beijing.
I must say, it is an impressive display of coordination, fat wallets, gunpowder, subtle military might, and buried communism.
My mom, however, was beyond impressed. She was screaming, both in delight and at my dad to record the show. "Oh my goodness." She said it "was the best show in 5,000 years" and that "no other country can beat this".
Larry Niven wrote that "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." My mom must have thought Beijing was Walt Disney's wonderful world of magic.
Of course, it was my job to bring her back down to earth and tell her that is in fact very possible for another country to do just as well. It is merely a matter of whether or not the country's government is willing to undertake such a task. It is even possible for future Olympics to surpass this year's, since they would know just how far they would need to go. Afterall, competition is how the world gets better.
Following more reminders of how important it is to learn Chinese, my mom also said that Jackie Chan was writing a song and that he was very patriotic, unlike me. This is proves how very ignorant she is. Jackie Chan is very patriotic. However, he is a Chinese citizen*. I am an American citizen, despite being of Chinese heritage, and if I was patriotic towards China, then I would be committing treason, which is the highest offense and punishable by death.
But enough for now. I'll go enjoy the rest of the opening ceremonies and try to ignore the human rights crises of China.
This is terrible. Ever since my brother got that new-fangled laptop of his that ought to be mine, the balance of power in my house has shifted.
Before, for he need to go through me to go get access to games and movies. Why? Because his computer wasn't connected to the Internet for some reason that my parents never decided the amend.
But now he has more or less free reign, using his newfound mobility to go download such books such as Breaking Dawn from some unknown source because our parents wouldn't by the cheesy romance for him.
What do I do now? This is terrible.
I have been cheating death, I think.
First, there was that 5.4 earthquake here in southern California.
Following the earthquake, the school found a gas leak. Apparently, our class somehow missed the call to evacuate the buildings and move to the field. I think it was because some very heated discussion about Christian Bale or Bail what's his face and whether or not he was bad man for abusing his mom and sister. Whatever the case, it really brought out the rage from the girls.
Then when I was riding home, I somehow found myself in front of my bike. Thing was, I didn't get there in the orthodox way, such as by getting off the bike and walking around. Instead, I somehow gone over my handlebars, crashing into more or less everything along the way. In the end, my groin felt like the Balls of Fury. I walked for a block before daring to get back on the bike.
Later, during tennis, I almost tore my pink off with my watch in some clumsy maneuver and gave myself a dead leg while serving.
Today was definitely not a good day.
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Bad day like me? Cheer up at Humor-blogs.
So yesterday I went to the the theater to watch WALL-E with my cousins, neighbor, and brother.
According to a friend who quoted another person, "WALL-E is cute but has no plot."
I beg to differ, at least from the second part. WALL-E was "cute", and there were some pretty hilarious moments where you can't help but laugh.
However, there's something deeper to the movie than just it's spectacular graphics and animation.
Perhaps the movie will lend some thought to attempting to save the Earth's environment. It might just happen - our world will be filled with mountains of junk. In WALL-E, the entire Earth is surrounded by a perpetual layer of assorted space junk. So pick up your trash.
Then there's the question of obesity. In the future, everyone is fat. They can't get around anywhere without going in an automatic, motorized comfort chair. Even babies start their lives in hovercribs. All they have to do to get something to eat is snap their hands and some robot will deliver. They don't even know that their luxury space liner has a running track. In fact, their jaw muscles are probably not much stronger than their hearts. No chewing involved when your cupcakes come in cup.
Not only are they fat, but they are illiterate. If they want something defined, it has to be by pictures and video clips. All instructions are accompanied by graphics. And when it comes to the point where an Earthling doesn't even know what Earth is, then ... well, I don't really know what to say - I've already used up Bush's No Child Left Behind act once, so I'll just stick with the classic "all hope is lost".
Some people might consider me talented. I can cave paint and play the violin. I can also play tennis and achieve a decent mile time. I can sometimes pull of an A without studying. Give me a computer and I could find my way around it, virtually or otherwise, and I can write a blog.
This is most disturbing news. So we got a new computer, right? Only the computer went to my brother. My little brother. I believed that this was blasphemy, so I proceeded to initiate Plan A - convince my parents that I should get the laptop.
The reasons ranged from needing the processing speed to photoshop some of our less glamorous pictures from Canada, the post of which I must still complete to being able to compile tiny Java source codes two milliseconds faster for school. My current computer has a history of crashing - just because it isn't screwed up right now doesn't mean it won't crash again. And since I'm taking a computer programming class - I can't afford to let it crash.
I can use the computer to its fullest potential - believe me, I will.
My brother will more likely get a virus on his computer.
Also, I'm the older brother. I should get the best things first. Some people may argue against that, but hey, that age old tradition (why break it?) works out for me. You're not supposed to die faster for nothing, right?
Then I tried working on pity. I told my mom, "You kept emailing me about whether we should get this or get that ... you lead me to believe that I was going to get the computer, but you let me down. *tear." "And I'm also feeling discouraged right now." (She said she got it for him to 'encourage him'.)
Righteousness. Everything my brother uses is mine. MINE MINE MINE. All his games, all his limited computer skills - MINE! And he doesn't think he owes me a thing! I may be selfish, but that's natural. Ingrates should not be rewarded!
But despite a compilation that would have done a Speech and Debater proud, still no go. Time for Plan B - a little exercise in economy.
So I decided to withhold until further notice all my software. At first, that thankless wench wouldn't even let me uninstall MY software. But he changed his mind after a short lesson in one-sided wrestling, if you know what I mean. But dang, his teeth were getting a bit long. I think he needs to cut them.
That's not even the end of it, though. As soon as I uninstalled the things, the persona non grata takes the new laptop and downloads a game I just installed from the Internet. I knew I should I have neutralized that threat, first. What an ass. Knowledge apparently is power.
So feel free to judge me, but first ask yourself if you can resist new technology. I sure as heck can't, and my conscience ain't telling me a thing. Tips on how to get what ought to be mine back will be appreciated.
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Empathy or sympathy? Go over to Humor-blogs.
I've never imagined at a history class could possibly turn into a class on philosophy. I mean sure, we're studying the Development of Western Civilization, which includes the Greeks, but philosophy? That was a surprise.
So anyways, we started talking about time. What is time? At first we were like, what kind of a question is that? And as we thought about it, we realized that we couldn't quite describe time. Feel free to try it yourself.
Then we went on a tangent for a little bit, discussing Einstein and Faster Than Light travel and its implications on time. As one student put it, "So I'm like ten and I do that travel thingy and then I come back I'm twenty and everyone's dead?" I guess so.
Back onto the subject of time, we started asking other questions. What is the past? Does the past exist? Is it only a perception of the mind? If it is, does the past exist say, on Pluto, seeing as there are no humans there? What about the future? Does the future exist? Is it preplanned?
Question after question. "The unanswered life is not worth living." Maybe so, but sometimes I think people ask one too many questions.
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Philosophy can be bad for you health, but a little Humor-blogs is the best medicine.
Sorry about not writing a post for what, over two weeks?
First there was a vacation to our Canuck neighbors to the north, of which a post is currently being written.
However, that aforementioned post cannot be completed because I have been getting all traces of my video game abstinence from the last school quarter out of my system.
After that, there's summer school. Never in my life have I seen so much homework from summer school. I'm taking Development of Western Civilization Honors. This class is designed by administrators in order to trap Asian students looking for more "Honors" classes. First off, it's not really an honors class. It's only "an honors class for departmental purposes", whatever that's supposed to mean. Then it's the easiest honors class to get into. As long as your pass the measly requirements, you're in - no questions asked. But the work disproportional. 92 makes an A. 91 makes a B. There is a quiz or test every single day, and we have to do these five-hour long optional notes for 1% of extra credit at the end of the term. We also have these seminars everyday where we have pretend to be knowledgeable and discuss things while sitting in a circle.
But that's not the end of it. There's some violin recital thing coming up, and I'm screwed. I can't even play my solo correctly and when I combined it the piano accompaniment, well, I wouldn't exactly call it glass shattering but it's far from decent. And I hate rests, by the way. I'm always either too early or too late, and I never seemed able to count up to four properly, even when using my fingers.
Violin Concerto No. 3 in G Major by W.A. Mozart - my piece.
I wish I could play like that.
Finally, my computer crashed. It has been getting the Blue Screen of Death quite a lot lately. The failures occur more and more quickly than the last times it happened until finally, I cannot even finish reformatting my computer without getting BSoD. Of course, this could be blessing in disguise, because it may possibly get me a new computer. =]
So, please accept my apologies. And have a happy Fourth of July.
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Apology accepted? Let Humor-blogs know.
People say it's always greener on the other side. Not really. It's just as yellow over there as it is over here. My life is either moderately miserable or very miserable. In fact, it's miserable so much that I'm happy when it's only a little bit miserable. Which is why it's hard for me to feel down for any length of time. If I fail a test, I mope, I weep, I fume, I blog. In another day or so, I'm perfectly back to status quo: plain old miserable.
School is ending. Most people should feel some kind of elation. I don't, because I'll be as miserable as I am now, only for a different reason.
When I'm at school, I hate the work and I want school to end. School ends. I go on vacation, and I hate the picture taking and walking and what to come home. I come home, and summer becomes quite boring, and I want school to start so I can see what little "friends" I have. School starts, I tire of the "friends", and I want school to end. Rinse and repeat.
But don't let my chronic misrableness get to you. It's bad for the health. Go and do something fun that you want to have go on forever. School's out!!!
P.S.: I will be going on a miserable vacation to Canada. Hopefully, the dollar doesn't get any smaller when I get there. Don't expect any new blogs for the next week or so, but feel free to stop by and reread some stale ones.
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Laughter is the best medicine. Head over to Humor-blogs for a healthy dose.
It's the end of the Chinese school year, and what's more fitting than a giant, time-wasting ceremony to top it off?
We had to arrive thirty minutes earlier usual supposedly to get our seats. Well, I grumbled and mumbled and showed up at 8:30 in the rather early morning. We went into the auditorium and plopped down somewhere in the middle. And sat. And sat. Until 9:00, finally things started happening.
First on the agenda was the pathetic excuse for a symphony orchestra. Let's start with the conductor. He listens to some piece of music, which is probably copyrighted by the way, and then writes out the notes. Then he does a little arranging with the final result leaving the second violins with the melody. And finally, when he conducts, he sings along! The rest of the orchestra is composed of whoever is gullible enough to participate, although there was a half decent first chair violinist, but he still needed to work on his shifts. The last first violin was a bit too timid, the second violin's bowing out of sync, and the trumpet made some odd noises usually associated with flatulence. Their performance thankfully ended with the loud death of a bovine.
Following the orchestra was some video of the Chinese school's university somewhere out there. The idiot manning the spotlight decided to let the beam rest on the screen, making it nearly impossible to discern what was happening. Then another idiot controlling the sound system either muted the audio and created some very inharmonious feedback.
Then came the graduates, complete in their shiny metallic ponchos that passed for a graduation robe. Pieces of paper, probably diplomas for what they're worth, and pollen-leaking flowers were handed out to the leaving students.
When the graduates left, a special ed group of students dressed in bathrobes came on stage and began can be best described as when teacher's pets begin experiencing a lack of drama in their lives and must thus dramatize everything. A glazed look comes over their eyes and they move in awkward, lumbering movements. When they speak, they somehow butcher the words and must move their entire heads back and forth. They are also quite gullible. One of them will shout "Look!" and point into some point above our heads and the rest of them will follow. Haha, made you look!
Then we have more awards and a slide show of a bunch of adults with their mug shots. Every so often, some of them will have their picture of Buddha. I assume that this indicates that the individual has gone to a better place where they sit on lotuses and deform their earlobes. An award was passed out for Best Improvement, which can quite easily be won by failing all your tests first semester and then "suddenly improve" in the second semester.
There was also a time when we saw the karate students strut their stuff. They did some very simple kicks and made noises that made me wonder if they didn't practice while squatting on top of a toilet. After the constipation example, some other students showed some fighting moves which involve the enemy grunting and then standing still. I don't want to see choreographed combat! I want to see some blood gladiator style! Finally, there was some board kicking. When the ceremony had ended, I got a chance to examine the boards. They were broken with the grain, and there was evidence of the gluing of boards together. The fracture lines were rather clean, too. Suspicious.
Then the ceremony was ended by much barbaric voodoo dancing among other things, during which the aforementioned special ed people demonstrated their lack of situational awareness. Despite having in their hand the object known as a microphone, the proceeded to shout at the top of their lungs to make themselves heard, and when they were done screaming, laid the still active microphone on the stage. And when the stage happens to contain a bunch of shuffling munchkins about to perform some silly dance, well, lets just say that it wasn't very quiet nor pleasant.
And the end.
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One more thing! Uncle say go to Humor-blogs!
Well, today was the annual Orchestra - Colorguard - and Band Banquet. I must say that this wasn't the most fabulous party of all time.
The horror of it all begins earlier that day with my orchestra direction instructing us that the event was "dressy casual." Dressy casual, eh? I went to school believing that I had dressed "dressy casual." Apparently, I hadn't, so I had to drive home and put on a polo.
Upon arriving at school, I met a girl who exclaimed, "You're going in that!?!" Whoops, not so good. She explained that it was "semi-formal." There's a world of difference between "dressy casual" and "semi-formal"; to me, they mean "casual" but not crap and dress shirt and pants, respectively. So I escorted her to the band restroom (which despite being music students isn't as clean as normal restrooms) so that she could change into some sparkly pink dress while calling my dad to bring me my orchestra outfit seeing as I had no other "semi-formal" outfit. He wasn't too happy - looks like this banquet was going to cost three dollars in gas.
Having decked out in the proper attire, I made my grand entrance to the banquet. Sadly, there were no trumpeters from the band to announce my presence. Oh well. Following a wait in a fairly long line, I began to near the buffet. There seemed to be some kind of pasta, a couple rolls, a salad, and some semi-melted desserts. I began to worry, for I saw no evidence of meat.
Some lady piled some weird cheese pasta onto my dish. Suspicions confirmed: no meat. Ironically, a guy farther down the line was calling out, "Vegetarian here!" That's kind of pointless. Isn't the whole meal vegan?
I ate my meal, picking apart the vegan mess while complaining to any who cared to listen about the lack of meat. I paid eight United States greenbacks for this! Maybe if they spent less on the DJ and more on the food we could have some meat. I need my meat three times a day+, seven days a week, twelve months a year. And that's just the bare minimum or else m hands start shaking and my vision goes double. Then I saw some sort of wrinkly mass on my plate. Could it be? I speared it with my fork. It sure looked like chicken. I placed it in my mouth and immediately burst into tears. Meat! There was actually some sort of meat! Chicken ain't all that great, but it's better than nothing. After my little euphoria had subsided however, I continued to wander around and spread my sad tale of a meatless dinner.
Then it was the awards ceremony. Blah blah blah, some guy in front of us was quite the obnoxious. Kept screaming and hugging his buddies and conceitedly complimenting himself on how he made band fun, although to his credit he actually started more than one round of applauses. Simultaneously, there was some guy from percussion clapping rather loudly. It was like he was trying to make one hand go through the other or something. What was a percussionist doing here anyways? I remember quite clearly that this was an OCB Banquet; not OCBP.
On a final note, I must say that band enjoys overkilling their tradition. They have to pass down binders and unread books, give necklaces (who knows where it's been), and so on. On the other hand, orchestra sure enjoys making ties. We have co-presidents, co-seceretaries, co-treasurers, and co-historians. Heck, we even have co-teachers.
But above all, I've had a wonderful time with orchestra, band, and colorguard. Just try to get more meat in the banquet next time.
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Feel my pain? Cheer me up by cheering yourself up at Humor-blogs.
For all my blog writing, I cannot seem to write an analytical paragraph in English Honors for moufflets.
We had ten paragraphs to write about Romeo and Juliet. Each was out of fifty points.
Paragraph #1: 37/50 - C
Oh well. I'll do better next time.
Paragraph #2: 37/50 - C
Hmm. This stinks. Third time will be the charm.
Paragraph #3: 37/50 - C
Okay. This isn't funny.
Paragraph #4: N/A
This was a rather good one, but apparently I forgot to turn it in to Turnitin.com. O I am Fortune's fool. Oh well. At least I improved, right?
Paragraph #5: 37/50 - C
What the hey! I didn't improve at all! You're kidding me! What the bloody hey do you mean by analyzed? What's there to analyze! And it's not speculating. It's flipping obvious. Anyone with the tiniest shred of common sense would be able to tell! Are you so stupid that I have to explain!
Paragraph #6: 40/50 - B
Well that's a change. Maybe I'll get an A next time. B's aren't good enough for me.
Paragraph #7: 37/50 - C
This is getting really discouraging. I tried really, really hard not to speculate and analyzed and explained everything, or so I thought. Maybe the teacher has something against me. Everyone else is doing better. Maybe I really am a failure.
Paragraph #8: 39/50 - C
We wrote this one in class, and the teacher graded easier. Some people said a lot easier. Well, gee that makes me feel a lot better. On the other hand, I did write something that usually takes over a day in less than an hour. We have to self analyze this. It's probably officially hopeless now. No way of pulling off an A this semester. And to think I actually went against my motto of being efficient for these stupid things. More depression...woe is me...
Paragraph #9: 41/50 - B
I have come across a very important discovery. English paragraphs do not follow the laws of physics!. The Law of Conservation of Energy states that energy is neither created nor destroyed. When doing work, the energy you put into it is turned into a state of energy known as a grade. The more energy applied the greater the grade. However, where English is concerned, even if you put a very large amount of energy into a paragraph, you still end up with a rather low grade. I spent a quarter of an Earth rotation only to get a B minus!
Paragraph #10: 40/50 - B
Conclusive evidence that English defy physics. I stayed up until twelve o'clock in order to write 356 words, and I only get an eighty percent!?! This is ridiculous!
Bet even Shakespeare himself couldn't write a story of more woe than the one I'm facing right now. On the other hand, he did cause my piteous overthrows.
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If you are experiencing schadenfreude, feel free to go over to Humor-blogs and laugh some more.
Shortly after being diagnosed with Selective Memory Loss, I discovered I had fineritis.
What is Fineritis?
Fineritis (fin-ne-RY-tis) is a disease related to senioritis. It's nomenclature includes the Greek root fin, which means end. Accordingly, fineritis a condition that afflicts people towards the end of things, such as the end of a school year, causing them to be rather lazy and carefree. Although not as serious as senioritis, fineritis can still be quite hazardous to one's grade, especially before the finals.
What Causes Fineritis?
The causes of fineritis is psychological. There are neurologicists out there trying to delve deeper into the mystery of fineritis, but upon nearing the completion of their research, have acquired the disease itself and now feel a disinclination to publish their studies. Although fineritis can occur at anytime of the year and for any number of reasons, there seems to be some kind of change right around the first half of June that creates a sudden burst of fineritis cases. Fineritis is highly contagious, but for it's benigness the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has yet to issue orders for quarantine of fineritis victims.
Symptoms & Diagnosis
The first signs of fineritis are very hard to detect as it is just being a little more lazy than usual. Then it develops into a feeling of being jaded, and finally a very high unwillingness to do anything at all. Fineritis reaches its worst stage when the procrastination takes up more than 50% of work time.
Fineritis, like Selective Memory Loss, can be treated by consumption of meat and by staying away from foods containing soy. Comfort foods such as ice cream and chocolate will help as well. Self-discipline is also effective.
Prognosis
Fineritis is nonlethal, and when the factor inducing fineritis has passed, then the symptoms will fade.
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Before you selectively forget, head over to Humor-blogs for me.
Today, my friends were talking about politics and stuff.
Well, I must confess that I have more or less been living in a box.
I don't watch that box of flickering lights people call TV, nor do I listen to the radio. In fact, I do read the news. Reuter's Oddly Enough articles. It's my only link to the world outside of the not so accurate gossip network.
So I was more or less left confounded while my friends rambled on about politics and Clinton or something of which I had little knowledge of. So, like Finny of A Separate Peace, I put on an expression of thoughtfulness and threw in a couple understanding nods and "Yea's" and attempted to not seem out of the loop.
I don't really see a point in catching on until I'm eighteen, a good three years from now. In fact, I found it almost annoying how people would battle it out over whether Obama, McCain, or Clinton is winning. To me, it's just some far off place; as far as the battlefields of Iraq or the playing fields of Trojans vs. Bruins that has nothing to do with me. Come to think of it, I don't really care who becomes President in my own school's Associated Student Body. It seems that no matter who we elect, nothing changes. Absolutely nothing. The only big thing itself is the election; to see who's the most popular; who's the greatest liar.
But maybe it is time to come out of the little hole I've been sticking my head in. Perhaps who we elect does make a difference - differences that are unnoticeable by me for lack of information.
At the very least, I can try to accidentally stray on to the more practical pages of Reuter's and maybe, just maybe, become a little less ignorant about politics, if only to save my pride. But don't ever expect me to care if USC or UCLA's football teams are better. That's pushing it.
So our economy is in a recession. Which leads to budget cuts. Which lead to teachers getting asked not to return. Which leads to a totally new set of computers. Wait. What? New set of computers? That doesn't seem typical of what happens during budget cuts.
But believe it or not, they're here. Yup. Last Friday, I walked into the library expecting to find the old but decent black Dell desktops. While at the front entrance, I saw a flash of silver. I thought, oh, new screens, which in itself was a waste of money.
Then, as I walked closer, I realized that the computers were also silver. This was a surprise. What was even more surprising was that the new hardware was Hewlett Packard. Whatever happened to those contracts with Dell I thought you had?
But that's not the end of the surprises. These computers were better than mine! Not that my computer is top of the line, or anything, but a school computer outclassing a private one? That's unheard of! These things had 2.33 GHz Core Duo's and 2 GB's of RAM. Crazy. What does a school computer need that much power for, anyways? It's not like they're needed to play Crysis or anything.
Not that I have a problem with using really fast computers (once you've used one you never want to go back to your piece of junk), but I remember that there were budget cuts. Why the new computers? You could have kept the teachers you sacked for another year with the money*. Or you could have kept the Academic Decathlon as a class. The school has to get its priorities straight sometimes.
*My friend once noted that instead of cutting teachers, we should cut the deans. Who needs them, anyways? All they do is drive around wasting energy with their fancy little flame-decaled golf carts.
Many people claim they suffer from Short Term Memory Loss, which is rather hard to cure. One of the few known effective methods is to hang out with a small, orange and white fish known as Nemo and repeating, "P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney!". However, one cannot spend their entire life living in an anem-anem-anemenemone, nor are there enough Nemo's to help everyone suffering from Short Term Memory Loss.
Once upon a time, my teachers believed I suffered from Short Term Memory Loss. But thanks to a recent self-diagnostic, I discovered that I suffer from Selective Memory Loss.
What is Selective Memory Loss?
Selective Memory Loss (SML) is type of memory loss. However, the only memories the afflicted person loses are the one he or she chooses to forget.
Causes
No one is really sure what causes Selective Memory Loss, although we do know that SML afflicts both the right and left temporal lobes of the brain, creating a manner that bears resemblance to a smiley face, as depicted by the electroencephalogram below.
Studies have shown that SML is spontaneous and that every person is capable of developing SML, although lazy people are more prone to it than others. SML is not contagious. SML cannot be transmitted through bodily contact, contact with fluids from an SML afflicted person, or even sexual intercourse. However, conversations about the disorder can induce SML with those involved. In fact, by reading this article, it is quite possible that you will suddenly discover that you have the disorder yourself.
Symptoms
The symptoms of Selective Memory Loss cannot be easily seen from the outside, unlike Short Term Memory Loss. A person with Short Term Memory Loss will suddenly turn around and go, "Who are you? Why are you stalking me?". However, someone with SML is much more subtle.
To find out whether or not you have Selective Memory Loss, try to remember something you don't want to remember. If you can remember it, then you do not have SML. However, it is quite hard to do this self-test mentally, because in order to ask yourself, you must somehow remember the event and figure out if you remember it, but if you know the event you don't want to know, then you don't have it. It is quite paradoxical. It is therefore recommended to have a list of forgotten events handy.
Is Selective Memory Loss bad? How will it affect me?
Unlike Short Term Meomry Loss, SML is not necessarily a bad gift to have. It is quite useful as an excuse for students who make mistakes more than once. All one with SML needs to say is, "I'm sorry, but I have SML. Apparently, I seemed to have forgotten that I made a mistake before, so it's technically only my first time making the mistake. It won't happen again, I promise" - and then promptly forgot that they made that promised. But, who can blame them? It's not their fault they have SML.
SML can also keep a person happy, as all the down sides of life can be forgotten.
However, SML can be used for malevolent purposes. A liar can simply forget that he is lying, and therefore will only be able to express genuine disbelief if their construed lie catches up to them.
Diagnosis & Treatment
There is no known cure for Selective Memory Loss. However, a simple will to remember everything will be enough to negate the effects of it. Clinical studies have also shown that eating meat and avoiding soy products may help.
Prognosis
Selective Memory Loss is not a terminal disease. However, if one chooses to forget life saving information, such as looking both ways when crossing the street, or never to eat a Mentos and drink Coke at the same time, then Selective Memory Loss could quite possibly be indirectly lethal.
NOTE: The type of Selective Memory Loss is solely the product of the imagination of the author and is not related to other forms of SML in any way whatsoever. All information regarding SML may retain certain shreds of truth, but is entirely fictional. Moufflets is not responsible for any action taken as a result of this post.
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Before you selectively forget to, humor me by going to Humor-blogs.
I figured it's been a while since I've written a book review. So here's another literary work that I've digested and regurgitated for your pleasure.
A Separate Peace
Written by John Knowles
Genre: Tragedy
Published by Macmillan 1959.
ISBN: 978-0-743-25397-0
This story revolves around two boys, Gene and Finny and is told from the former's point of view. The setting takes place in a boarding school in New England (not located in England) during World War II. Gene and Finny are best friends. But Finny seems to be the type that can get away with anything and do everything, such as ditching school to go to the beach, breaking swimming records, and jumping out of trees. Finny would be what you call a stud, but he can't because the school he and Gene happen to be at is a men's club: no girl students.
So after having some fun, Gene has his own private Enlightenment. He begins to realize that Finny is his enemy! And there was a deeper reason why Finny is pretending to be such a good friend to him than being a good friend. Finny was trying to lower his grades so that he could be a better student!
So one day, at a tree jumping session of the Super Secret Summer Suicide Society, Gene's knee "accidentally" moves and the Finny falls out of the tree like a nut and cracks something. The only problem is Finny doesn't believe that Gene did it on purpose and Gene doesn't know if he did it on purpose, either.
...You know what? I'm tired of giving a summary. Go read it for yourself.
Rating: 8/10
The book has its boring moments, especially during the beginning of the book. But as you keep reading, you realize the theme is quite interesting. A boy secretly thinking that his best friend is trying to undermine him. I can't believe it. These people aren't even living in the 21st century where even perfect SAT scores aren't enough to get you into the college of your choice, and these boys are competing? Relax! There's plenty of jobs in the world. You could always go invent the computer and the Playstation.
What's funny is that this whole thing about secret peer competition is that my mom feels the same way. Whenever I want to do something with my friends, she'll go, "Who are your friends? Are they good students? They're just trying to get you outside so you can't study (not like I do when I'm inside) and they can get better grades than you." If the entire world were like what she believed, the world would be a rather cold place.
But the main reason I wrote this review was something deeper. This book is about homosexuals. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but Gene and Finny are gay. There, I've said it. They're gay, even though my English teacher doesn't admit it.
Evidence:
Summary on back: "What happens between two friends one summer, like war itself, banishes the innocence of these boys and their world."
Page 19: "I threw my hip against his, catching him by surprise, , and he was instantly down, definitely pleased. This was why he liked me so much. When I jumped on top of him, my knees on his chest, he couldn't ask for anything better."
Page 48: "...you can't come to the shore with just anybody and you can't come by yourself, and at this teen-age period in life the proper person is your best pal, which is what you are."
Page 69: "I was thinking about you..."
Page 102: "He looked up with a provocative grin."
Page 104: "After [my Army shirt] came off there was just my undershirt, stained with sweat. He smiled at it for a while and then said, as he eaved himself out of the chair, 'There. You should have worn that all day, just that. That has real taste. The rest of your outfit was just gilding that lily of a sweat shirt.'"
Page 107: "Finny hobbled over to the dresser and took up his soap dish. 'I'm first in the shower,' he said.
'You can't get that cast wet, can you?' asked Brinker.
'No, I'll keep it outside the curtain."
'I'll help,' said Brinker.
Page 108: "Phineas was shocked at the idea of my leaving. In some way he needed me. He needed me ... He wanted me around."
Page 113: "No locker could have more pungent air than Devon's; sweat predominated, but it was richly mingled with smells of paraffin and singed rubber, of soaked wool and liniment, and for those who could interpret it, of exhaustion, lost hope and triumph and bodies battling against each other. I thought it anything but a bad smell. It was preeminently the smell of the human body after it had been used to the limit, such a smell as has meaning and poignance for any athlete, just as it has for any lover.
Page 171: "'Let's make a double jump,' because I thought if we went together it would be something that had never been done before, holding hands in a jump..."
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QED. For more proof, well, you just have to read the book for yourself. Rather recommended, but not as much action as I would like. Really deep psychological side-effects though.
The expert gunslingers always say, "Bring earplugs to a gunfight." I say, "Bring earplugs to a pep rally."
Pep rallies are really loud. Apparently, whoever controls to volume on the huge speakers in our school gym must have bad hearing because they turn it up WAY too loud.
But that's not all. You might think normal voices are loud, but you haven't heard anything yet, possibly because your hearing is already damaged.
Our pep squad seems to enjoy dancing to very bizarre music. Unfortunately, the music also has very bizarre sound effects, such as screeches, squeals, and all the other acoustic concoctions only a computer would know how to make. The song may once upon a time have sounded pleasant, but after taking steroids raising them to a seat thumping loudness, they begin to sound like Charlie Brown's teacher.
Our varsity percussion also likes loud noises. One drum is bad enough. Two drums are worse. Two drums and a base drum are really, really bad. TEN drums and TWO BASE drums are a recipe for major hearing loss. Not to mention the fact that they also have aforementioned artificial computer sounds generated by a stupid Macbook and about ten of those suspended of cymbal things.*
Pep band is the worse. Not only do they play the same music over and over, but they enjoy playing right next to the door you exit out of and have no regard for your audio safety. You can't even hear yourself. This is why we should a pep orchestra, not a pep band. At least it's not the entire bloody band itself.
And they said listening to music on portable music players was bad for your ears. Hypocrites.
*And never, ever, underestimate the loudness of a xylophone. They might not look like much, but they pack a big punch, especially in large numbers.
I did say I was going to write something about "those silly monkeys jumping up and down shouting 'Allah akbar!'", didn't I? Well, thanks to a local screening of Invisible Children*, here it is. Only try really hard to resist causing more acts of death and destruction after reading this.
Just because I made fun of Islamic militants doesn't mean you other radical theists** get away, too. You're all part of the problem. The Crusades. The Holocaust. I'm pretty sure the Islamic people didn't start the problems. I can't remember exactly, but I'm also pretty sure the Ten Commandments included something along the lines of don't kill, which Common Sense also tells you to do.
Waging a war because some God(s) (which for purposes of this post represents all spiritual figures and does not exist) told you to is just ridiculous. I've heard of strict obedience, but attempting to overthrow a government, as corrupt and pathetic as it may be because a voice in your head (who is most likely not your conscience are most certainly not your higher being of choice) suggested it is plain stupid. What if God told you to jump off a cliff? Well, I suppose some of you might. There is a reason why they call you 'extremists'.
This is exactly what happened to a deranged lunatic named Alice Lakwena, and for the last two decades, an unseen war has been waging in Uganda between the government and the Lord's Resistance Army. Children have been kidnapped by this terrorist group and are forced to either learn how to shoot a gun or be shot with one.
Maybe it's the government's fault, but your crusade isn't helping any. All you're doing is adding to the instability of your region and helping your already weak government doing a worse job of fixing it's many problems. If you took the money that you were wasting on junk food such as guns and bombs and gave it to a more noble cause, the world would be a much better place.
Luckily, the story of the Invisible Children has a happy ending. The conflict has become less transparent to the world, and there has been peace for several years and hope for a bloodless solution. Maybe you could all take a lesson from them and put that Holy Sword you were planning to smite the Infidels with down or place that highly fashionable C4 down vest from Abercrombie and Fitch back in the closet.
Post may be expanded later.
Religion is inefficient. De-convert today!
*Moufflets is not associated with Invisible Children or its affiliates in any way, shape, or form.
**All theists negatively referred to in this blog have declared Holy War of some sort or another or have used violence in the name of their imagined higher being. Moufflets does not establish that all theists are ill-hearted people in general, and apologizes and asks to be notified if it has done so.
Once again, politicians or whoever runs the school board (they're all the same) has made a stupid error by implementing a late-start for Staff Development Day instead of early-release.
Now, although I prefer early-release, I have no problem with sleeping an extra hour and fight the eye-bags that seem to be appear spontaneously during high school. Or at least it seemed like I could have slept an extra hour. But as it was, I had a zero period.
As you all may know by now, my zero period is Academic Decathlon. In fact, as of last week, we have lost our class. That's right. Due to recent budget cuts by hypocrites of the No Child Left Behind Act, Academic Decathlon has been reduced to club status. And the some itchy string-puller couldn't wait until the end of the year to kick us out of our room, so now we have to go to the library. We don't even see our teacher anymore!
But that's a problem that's not part of the problem. The problem is, if you're in zero period, you still have to report to school at the same time on late-start days! That's just stupid. Maybe I'd understand if they said we still had to come one hour later, but no, we have to report to school at 7:00. As zero period lasts an hour, our class ends at eight. But thanks to late-start, school starts at nine. A little trigonometry would show that we have one hour between the time when AcaDeca ends and school starts. Guess what? During that time, we have to stay at school. And apparently they do notice if you're absent.
Yesterday, that was the fateful late-start day that I started late on. When I got back from home and checked the answering machine, I got a the monotonous slightly female voice that was the telltale sound of an ELD computer telling me that my son was not present during zero period that day and needs to bring a signed note blah blah blah to the attendance office the next day, which brings to me to another point:
Who will take attendance for the attendance staff? When I got to school this morning, at the usual 7:00 in the morning, the windows were closed. They said it would be open at 7:30. When I returned at 7:30, the windows were still closed. And so I had to wait for ten minutes in the rather chilly and moist weather waiting for them. How are we supposed to be good students and be on time if they aren't good role models?
How stupid is that! Very.
All those liberation groups that keeping making the headlines are getting on my nerves.
BLA, ULAF, ULAA.* Something with the word "liberation" in them. I swear that there are more acronyms here than the United States government has.
But what are these so called freedom-fighters doing exactly? It seems to me that they're all preoccupied with making large explosive noises, suiciding other people, and suiciding themsevles and other people. In fact, most of them should be stuck in anger management classes singing, "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty, and witty, gayyyy!!!"
You would think that they have learned long ago that virulence**, I mean violence, is not the answer. I suppose that their average lifespan is too short for anything to sink in thanks to their lemming-like attraction to suicide bombings. I think they're pretty immature. It's like they've gone from boys with toys to men with guns, only they're still stomping up and down trying to get attention.
So grow up, calm down, and try to keep the safeties on your guns. At the very least, get a change of names. It's really not nice to mislead people.
As for those silly monkey's jumping up and down shouting "Allah akbar!" while waving AK-47s and RPGs around, I have another post just for you for another time. So try not to crash a plane into anything before or after you get a chance to read it.
*Nothing personal. Just listing a few off the top of Google search.
** A little poke at those nerds over at Mark Keppel who always seem to come out with the most medals in Academic Decathlon. I respect that.
By now, you all should know I like food. More specifically, I like meat.
Today, I have another lunch episode to share with you. And it should be no surprise that it has something to do with meat.
For lunch, we went out to a Brazilian (maybe Portuguese, what's the difference?) steak house.
Now, the first thing you notice when you sit down at one of those churrascarias is that there is this interesting little object. Usually, one side of it is green and the other side red. This little thingamabob is key to your meal, and it is important that you flip it as little as possible. You'll see why in a moment.
These restaurants are part buffets. You can try their signature chicken Cordon Bleu, or any of the cultural Brazilian dishes such as Lingua, rabada, and other unpronounceable creations, but it's recommended you save your stomach space for as much meat as possible. Don't even think about putting any foliage on your plate. Be careful, though. There's no telling what's in half of the foods.
So what is a Brazilian steak house anyways? It's where all the best waiters are located, because these particular breed of food carriers are known as passadors; meat waiters in English. Can you believe it? Waiters entirely dedicated to bringing you meat! This is where the little red-green indicators come in. When the green side is up, they'll keep bringing you meat. They bring these huge sword things with pepper steak, garlic steak, chicken, and more skewered on it right to your table! When the red side is up, the meat flow is cut. The only reason why the red side is down is because you need some time to digest to make room for more meat.
But you can't have everything. The meat sometimes comes too slowly, leaving you to watch some Latin channel on their two flat screens or listen to some Brazilian chant/music set on repeat. The buffet food is probably not all that fresh, because who after all eats at the buffet when there's all this wonderful meat to be had.
The next time you spot one of these places, stop by. Just remember to clear your schedule for the next one hour or two. You'll want to get the most beef out of your buck.
I have discovered another hazard to society. The problem is really serious. It has infiltrated the deepest levels of our populations, and there are new converts everyday.
The perpetrator is slimy, can be yellow bellied, green-skinned, and/or but not limited to red-necked. It's always there, but you might never notice. The perpetrator is GUM.
The oral accessory that have become such a sensation isn't all that sensible.
First of all, chewing gum wears down your teeth. You may not notice it, but it's happening. Your sweet tooth won't be craving much of anything, sweet or otherwise, once it's full of tiny little cavities and all the other little wriggly things from the Listerine commercials. Chewing gum requires a constant, repetitive motion of the same few muscles; eight to be exact. As we all know, too much anything (except meat and typing), is bad for you and you may develop some chronic issues. Chewing Tunnel Syndrome, for one thing. There are even rumors of headaches developing from gum-chewing.
For those that must chew, why waste energy chewing away on what's little more than a sweetened piece of eraser when you could be tenderizing a thick, juicy slice of beef jerky? As long as you resist the urge to swallow, voila! You've got a new gum. Beef jerky cannot currently be stuck behind your ear for storage, but there is ongoing research.
But chewing gum is just plain old annoying. People make this irritating "Jchk jchk jchk" sound when they're chewing. But worst of all, it's the irresponsibility of gum chewers.
All you have to do to see the wide extend of this problem is take a look under a desk then next time you're in a high school. It's a colorful world down there, isn't it? Ever wonder what those black spots are on the cement? Yup, you guessed it. It's gum.
Today, I have become another casualty of the ever present threat of GUM, which I have found out is impossible to eradicate. There is now a wad of the stuff on the bottom of my sandals, and after changing out of my swim gear, discovered a patch that somehow found its way onto my backpack. After playing a rather long game of tug of war in biology, I have managed to remove much of the guck from my backpack, although some still remains, complete with that fresh chewed minty fresh smell.
Thanks to those of you who took part in my poll, although the final decision really came down to my mom, for what's that worth.
FINAL POLL RESULTS: 2008/05/07 to 2008/05/14:
Total Votes: 12
Yesterday, I went to the Career Center and did a little tweaking to my schedule. That was the point of no return; the final threshold...
It was very hard to choose between journalism and orchestra. Both had as many pros as they did con.
If I chose orchestra, it would show consistency, seeing as I had already taken one year of it. It would also be easier on my workload as orchestra isn't nearly as demanding as other classes. I've always wanted to see how I looked in a penguin suit.
On the other hand, if I had taken journalism, I might actually achieve some fame, because concertmaster is rather a distant prospect. By writing articles, I may be able to express all that's right, mostly wrong, and funny about the world to more than just my loyal but limited blog viewers. My biology teacher also recommended journalism, I believe, stating that I might be able to squeeze out a nice recommendation for college or other stuff from a long relationship with the class. It'd also be a nice extracurricular. However, by taking journalism, I would have more work and more deadlines and maybe more misplaced sleep.
Yet by taking orchestra I might well be wasting four years of classes that could have been used for something else, even though I intended to take it both junior and senior year, to lighten my workload and go on that large trip to somewhere that happens once every four years for orchestra. Seeing as my violin skills are rather limited, I would likely be stuck in second violin, not playing the melody (and therefore playing the harder music). Then there's also this little problem of loneliness: I wouldn't really know anybody, and all the sophomores entering advanced orchestra are really no more than just acquaintances.
As for personal preference, I really can't decide. I can't well choose between two parts of myself. I was lucky there wasn't a third option: graphic design and animation seemed very tempting.
But whatever, happens, orchestra is the winner. I can only hope that I, the voters, and/or my mom, have made the right choice and gone on the right path of life.
So my next year's schedule will be;
- Honors English 10 (hopefully)
- Honors Pre-Calculus/Calculus A (hopefully but rather unwanted)
- AP Biology
- Spanish 1
- Fit for Life (only to keep my feet dry during the winter) / Tennis Team (hopefully)
- AP Computer Science (Zero Period)
- Advanced Orchestra
It's second semester, which means swimming time for freshman. For a quarter and a half, my PE class has enjoyed being landlubbers. Now it's time for us to get our feet wet.
Yesterday was the first day in the water. However, we were caught in a rather early June gloom, when it was overcast for nearly a week with the thermostat dropping to as low 63 degrees Fahrenheit. But my teacher was still flipping to go swimming, dressed in a windbreaker, pants, and his usual wide brim straw-hat and sunglasses. Meanwhile, the rest of us shivered, barely protected from the freezing temperatures. And we weren't even in the water yet.
As soon as we were in the pool area, we scrambled up the bleachers, trying to get away from the feared water, only to jump up with surprise as our butts touched the cold metal of the benches. With nowhere run and nowhere to sit, we could only stand around, pathetically clutching our shoulders.
Following a painstakingly long roll call, it was time to hit the water.
Somebody had claimed that the water was heated. Well, maybe when hell freezes over it will be. We immediately crouched as low as we could go without submerging our heads, trying to keep away from the icy grip of the atmosphere and fighting for possession of the slighty warm water jets.
The first thing we did was walk around the edge of the pool. This was known as a Whirlpool Warm-up. At first, it felt like Bigfoot Rapids from Knott's. We were basically drifting around rather quickly, although it felt that at any moment, we might suddenly speed up and go plunging down a waterfall. I prepared my most amusing facial expression to wear when the camera would flash our picture, but it never came. I only noticed the current we were creating when we had to swim in the other direction.
It was quite the experience. It was like, no, it was, swimming upcurrent in a river. Now I know why they call it a Whirlpool Warm-up.
Afterwards, we did a few laps using various styles. I don't know why they teach us all these different styles. Breaststroke is the best and most efficient. You don't splash, you can keep your head above the water, and you can swim underwater using it. I also discovered that my swim trunks were looser than they seemed on land and that I couldn't swim too fast for fear of them sliding off. That wouldn't be nice.
The suffering didn't end at the pool, though. After shivering our way back to the lockers, we hit the showers. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the shower hit us. Standing in front of the innocent looking showerhead, we pushed the button. Instantly, freezing cold water slapped us across the face at Mach 2. There are few things that would make scrawny grown men like us scream, but this was one of them.
All things considered however, our class was pretty lucky. We were swimming during the hottest time of the year (provided California weather stuck with the laws of physics), and we only had to swim on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. On the other hand, there is that problem of sunburn...
Note: Never leave anything wet in the locker. I should have known better, but I found that out the hard way. Apparently, the infernal things known as sandals don't dry out all that fast.
I was out in my backyard just peacefully picking loquats from my neighbor's tree. I mean, I have the right to take the fruit if the branches come over to our side of the fence, right? I have long ago perfected the way of eating loquats. You tear off the top and spit it out. Then you suck out everything from inside the rest of the fruit, meat, seeds, and all, taking care to not waste any juice. Then you spit out the seeds, give the empty sack that used to be the loquat a last cleansing suck, and throw it away.
Then I helped my mom decided where we should plant an orange tree that she was planning to buy.
Anyways, the reason I wrote this post was because of an army of mushrooms that came out of nowhere. They sure weren't there yesterday. I must have made these belligerent 'shroom soldiers below mad somehow. Our little fungi friends tried to shoot me when I shot their picture. Maybe it was because I unsuccessfully tried to incinerate them using a magnifying glass. It worked in biology...
The day before yesterday, a Friend 1 mentioned to me this organization that she was trying out for. She said, "Friend 2 and Friend 3 were also joining, and so she was going to join. I thought, well, "Since Friend 2 and Friend 3 and Friend 1 were joining," it's only logical that I should join. And so I did.
The next day, I went to the ASB office to pick up a form; the last one there was. I had forty minutes to turn it in before lunch ended.
I went over to my usual lunch spot and immediately took out a pen. Lunch would have to wait. The first couple questions were fill in the blanks, which I promptly shaded in completely. Then it asked me what school activities/clubs/organizations I was going involved or was going to be involved in.
I should have seen this coming. Everything that requires a tryout asks you what extracurricular activities. It's a prejudice that runs back for eons as monkeys were fighting each other to pick lice or whatever tasty tidbit is found on the backs of our primate friends.
They always want you to see if you're active; if you're in Student Council; if you're in Speech and Debate and Math Team and Science Bowl and Destination Imagination and Future Business Leaders of America and Academic Decathlon or are MVP's of tennis or cross country or football or baseball or are Eagle Scouts.
But some of us aren't in all that. Some of us only have a blog to show for ourselves and an Academic Decathlon team where we do nothing at all and have broken our once proud tradition by placing seventeen times worst than the year before. Some of us have Asian fails and most of us only have orchestra and band, and that's not so special anymore, nor are we robots or naturally like Finny from Separate Peace by John Knowles, which are quite special. Most of us if we even tried to match those inhuman humans would suicide ourselves.
It's unfair. Those with a lot of extracurricular activities get in and are able to add another little something to their repertoire. This allows them to get into more things, which allows them to get into more things. This creates an exponential growth curve.
However, like population growth, the curve has a ceiling. A person can only handle so many things at once. This is why accepting people based on their activeness is not only discriminatory but backwards and inefficient.
An organization should select people who have the least amount of commitments. Notice I wrote "commitments" and not "commitment". This is because the fewer things a person need to do, the more time that particular person could devote to your group.
This is known as also specialization, and is very beneficial for the organization and the member. The organization gets more time and gets to feel important for being to only one in the member's life, while the member doesn't have to waste time running from one thing to another and feels needed.
Specialization is the hallmark of every major civilization, and creates trade and luxuries. We wouldn't get very far if we had to do everything ourselves. Imagine if you had to make your own clothes, build your own refrigerator, install your own plumbing.
Wait a minute. Why have I digressed into a lesson in economics? Bleh.
ANYWAYS, it's unfair to judge someone based on the number of extracurriculars. In fact, there should be a law against this; the Equal Extracurriculars Act. Besides, it's against human nature to be inefficient.
Today, I went to Carl's Junior for lunch. Like a good Asian family, we were never going to buy anything full priced if we could help it, so of course we brought along a couple coupons.
Anticipating some version of the McDonald's incident, we split up our orders, hoping that the cashier wouldn't notice that we were part of a group.
After my dad had purchased his order, I was next in line. I presented my "$1.00 OFF the Original Six Dollar Burger" and placed an order for a sandwich only, because only non-Asians would ever buy a combo meal and get rip offed for some syrup in carbonated water and puffed up potatoes.
The guy behind the counter rings up my order and then hands me back the coupon, "Use it again?"
Did he just say "Use it again?" I was shocked. I looked up and the guy was looking at me with a raised eyebrow, holding out the coupon, my receipt, and my change.
"No, that's all right; besides, it expires tomorrow."
"It's ok, take it."
I take it. Unbelievable. Now this is the customer service I'm talking about. If every restaurant was like this, the world would be a much better place to live in.
But that's not even what this post is about.
This post is about the Six Dollar Burger, what has to be one of the greatest burgers on Planet Earth.
My friend Turkeyface and I once went to a Carl's Jr. after school. We ordered the Original Six Dollar burger. When it came, we greedily opened the box. Inside was the tallest creation of edible joy I had ever seen. We reverently picked up the burger and brought it up to our mouths to take our First Bite.
We opened our jaws and brought them around the burger, but then we encountered a problem. The burger was so big that we simply couldn't fit sandwich in our mouths. What to do? We could try to dislocate our jaws like snakes do, or we could take a fork and knife and carve up the burger into more manageable pieces. Finally, we decided to take our most of the lettuce, because we figured that it would have the least impact on our experience.
Finally, we were able to take the First Bite. Our incisors cut their way through three inches of food; buns, patty, and greens alike.
The meat, the entire half inch of it, was great! Tyrannosaurus rexes all over the world were probably turning over in their graves as I savored the massive slab of charbroiled pleasure. This burger would actually have made the original Carl's Junior's commercial make sense, with the dripping ketchup and everything. The thing was messy; we needed like a quarter of the napkin dispenser.
I've yet to see the world, but this burger trumps all. My only regret was that we ordered the combo meal. What a waste.
P.S.: The Portabello 'shroom burger ain't half bad, either, and the only burgers I'm eating from McDonald's ever again are its Third Pounders. Big Macs aren't that big anymore.
NOTE: This is an independent article and is Moufflets is not associated in any way whatsoever to Carl Karcher Enterprises, Inc.
Another Six Dollar Burger experience.
Don't you ever get that craving for something sweet, salty, chewy, and brown?
I do quite often, and I fulfill the urge with Twix. But only if there isn't any beef jerky handy.
I'm always looking to eat meat, but there never seems to be enough of it lying around, or at least in the palatable form. Enter beef jerky, the best thing since the invention of meat itself.
What's not to like about beef jerky? It doesn't need refrigeration, it doesn't need cooking, and it doesn't even need to be uncanned. You can bring it anywhere for that quick burst of protein to keep you on you on your feet. You don't need one of those environmentally destructive plastic bags to like you need for trail mix. A little piece of paper to wrap around it is all you need. Plus, you'll have something to wipe your hands after you've eaten the jerky and licked your fingers.
You don't even need hands to eat jerky. Just pop a chunk in your mouth and start exercising your jaw muscles and do whatever needs doing. It may also help in rehabilitation of tobacco-chewers. Chewing beef jerky may produce salivation, which the patient may "spit" in the tobacco-chewing fashion. However, this is not recommended at is a waste of perfectly good beef jerky juice that should be savored instead.
Beef jerky also has its masculine appeals. Real men like meat. What's more manlier than taking a stick of jerky and ripping a chunk off like a barbarian. Arrghh.
Nutritionally, beef jerky has no fat. Yup, you heard me, no fat. Not that I would care, but it doesn't have fat because it is the nature of beef jerky to be mostly fat free.
Furthermore, beef jerky has non-gastronomic uses. If your shoes ever need a new sole, you can tack some jerky to the bottom of the shoe and it'll be find. Or a rather stringy piece, stick it to a large slab of jerky and call it a sandal. Beef jerky also makes a rather nice fly swatter, and to a lesser extent, an instrument of child arse-abuse*. If you happen upon a creature rather desperate for hominid flesh, beef jerky can usually prove to be a nice distraction.**
Need a moment? Chew it over with Jerky.
*Moufflets is not responsible for any action taken as a result of this post. Child abuse is frowned upon in most lax Western societies who pass "No Child Left Behind" acts and may be punishable by law.
**WARNING: This is not a proven survival technique. Moufflets is not responsible for any action taken as a result of this post. Also, do not attempt any heroic attempts to save the beef jerky that you used as a decoy, for that would negate its purpose, nor should you eat the jerky in the presence of a carnivore.
I would like to thank everyone who voted for participating in my poll.
The topic seems weird, but I was applying to my school's newspaper, and part of the application was to list fundraising ideas.
While filling out the rest of my application, I was mainly pro-carnivore. While saying, "meatmeatmeatmeat", which if you notice says "eat meat", it hit me that I could sell meat! In terms of meat, I was thinking something along the lines of tender filet mignon, USDA approved sirloin steaks, and juicy prime ribs. They protein could be denatured for eating right in front of you upon the external combustion heating device, just the way you like it, with your choice of all the classic seasonings (I recommend good 'ole salt and pepper). We could also let you cook the meat yourself, and maybe say give you twenty to thirty minutes on the grill, because how long does it take to cook beef? For more exotic palates, we could have special offers for the more exotic parts of bovines. Finally, we could imitate the cookie dough fundraisers and send home chunks of cryogenized meat for Grandma to prepare with her secret recipe.
Plant matter could constitute of either vegetables or floral objects.
Perhaps I wasn't being fair to soybeans when I labeled its category "Hazardous soy products." You never know, however. Remember that it is possible that the soybean is a malevolent, sentient hive mind capable of mind control. I'm pretty sure that it wouldn't have gotten many more votes had I given it another name. Products may include high monosodium glutamate fermented essence of soy. While many types of bean curd may be sold, the odorous cousin known as Stinky Tofu WILL NOT be sold for the sake of public health.
Stationery consists of general office supplies, such as distracting exploding pens, and mechanical graphite pencils, commonly mistaken as lead pencils. Primitive wood-encased graphite pencils will probably be available as well. Compressed sheets of wood pulp fibers, rubber deletion devices, and rock paperweights from your backyard may be included. All stationary will probably be monogrammed with the school theme.
FINAL POLL RESULTS 2008/04/23 to 2008/05/01:
Total Votes: 58
A friend, Turkeyface, shall we say, told me to give out this little piece of advice from the Bad Driver's Handbook by Zack and Larry Arnstein:Keep tofu in your car in case of bikers. When stuck in traffic with these carbon based bi-wheeled lifeforms, toss the tofu out the window. The biker will leap out of their way to retrieve the disgusting chunk of soy, preferably into the way of a speeding truck. In any case, take this opportunity to speed ahead
***APPENDED 2008/05/28
I didn't make it to the newspaper staff. At least I'm taking Advanced Orchestra.
