Get The Hell Out of My Row

Ah, a good morning to all of you. Top of the morning if you will! I've had my morning cup of chai and even threw in a shot of espresso to really get things going. It's really working. I'm typing 103 words per minute right now. So, I'm writing you from biostatistics this morning. I always get to this awful 8 am class between 4 and 12 minutes late. It's at the very, very top of campus, as far away from my house as you can get. I like to sit in the very top row so that I can play on my computer instead of paying attention. You might be thinking..."Trex, you need to grow up and start focusing in your class." To that I say: "Ef you!" Seriously though, our teacher wrote our textbook and literally just reads the textbook to us to teach the class. However, I digress. What prompted me to blog this early is my recent realization that I HATE people sitting near me. When I first sat down today this is what MY top row looked like:

Now, that is a beautiful sight to me! A veritable sight for sore eyes. When something like this happens to me, I find myself thinking, "God dammit, if the next person that sits down sits in this row I swear to god I'm gonna f-ing, jesus, holy crap." Clearly, I'm channeling Grandpa.

Since I first started writing, 3 people have already sat in my row.

If someone takes the seat next to me I'm probably gonna lose my shit.

Have a lovely rest of your day
and try not to sit next to anyone in case they are as misanthropic as your author

Trex

Dead Baby Possum Update

The other day I happened across a very frightening scene. Stella was lying in my backyard next to a mutilated dead baby possum which, it seems, she herself perpetrated untold crimes against. In a moment of panic, I picked up the dead baby possum (with an empty flower pot) and chucked it into my next door neighbors yard. It has just recently been brought to my attention that, in some circles, this might be considered a somewhat malicious act. I'd like to publicly apologize to my neighbors and make it clear that I am not waging a secret war against them. I promise you, this was no act of sedition on my part. Twas only an irrational decision made in the face of my hysterical angst. It was clearly a direct result of the deep seeded fear of dead baby possums I seem to posses.

Sunday Evening Questions of the Day

1. If nominated to be one of Irish Magazines “Top 100 Irish-Americans in 2008” will I garner the #7 or the #36 spot?

2. Have large festivals and gatherings in San Francisco (I won’t name any names here) caused me to become even more of a misanthrope than previously stated?

3. If I could become the physical embodiment of any television show on the air what would it be?

4. What three phrases did I utilize most this weekend?



Answers

1. it’s moot
2. absolutely they have
3. The Office
4. a) “This is career-making work”
b) “I’m multiethnic and not afraid to say it”
c) “If I’m not studying, I’m probably just drunk…or blogging…or blogging drunk”

Addendum 2: I love lasers (possibly tied for magic)

I recently was needing to "pair" my apple remote with my macbook...they became upaired after i installed the new leopard operating system on my computer (or is it jaguar??). I need my apple remote when I watch dvds on my computer. What's significant about this is the fact that, while laying in bed watching a movie, my computer is usually on my lap and at arm's length and yet I still feel the need to use a remote. When trying to determine how to "pair" them up again, I found a note on apple's website saying that you can check to see if your remote is is working by taking a picture of your remote while holding down one of the buttons. This way, you can see if the infrared sensor is functioning, which you can't see with the naked (slut!) eye.
I don't know why this is so exciting to me. Maybe because my dad is a physics geek? Once I found out this was possible, I couldn't stop doing it! If I know my sister, she's going to do the exact same thing with her remote as soon as she reads this, and she will probably be equally overjoyed.

Why you should vote for Sarah Palin (Addendum to most recent post)

1. she looks a lot like tina fey and my mom really likes 30 rock, so, essentially, you are supporting my mom if you support sarah palin

2. she's white, and thus, more trustworthy

3. she knows how to abuse power, get caught, but then not get punished in anyway - a quality that every president should posses

4. if she can shoot an f-ing wolf from a moving helicopter she's probably got excellent aim and is more likely to stay on target (next target = iran)

5. she doesn't reprimand any of her supporters when they yell out, in reference to barak obama; "terrorist" or "bomb obama" or "kill him" at her rallies. in other words, she has a deep appreciation for freedom of speech

6. she's absolutely unqualified for her job and thus VERY qualified to be in washington

7. she's not only nearsighted (wears glasses), but also, extremely farsighted (can see russia from her house)

8. her love for women's rights is only outweighed by her ability to answer Katie Couric's interview questions

9. she reads EVERY newspaper in the country

10. she is a pitbull, my dog is a pitbull, i love my dog, therefore, by association...i love sarah palin (note: this also works in the case of sarah palin as joe six-pack, e.g i drink six packs, dot dot dot)

Arguments For and Against Doing Crack

My plight of trying to be cool in the face of adversity continues to be a lifelong struggle for me. I've decided to take up (electric shock) therapy which will hopefully prove helpful. Perhaps it's something in the water? I recently learning about the E. Coli 0157 outbreak that happened in Canada about 10 years ago...turns out, in that case, it really was in the water. That wasn't too helpful for all the people that were being told to drink lots of water to keep hydrated. Bloody diarrhea, apparently, is quite dehydrating. Anyway, I digress. What I mean to say is, not that I'm having a bout of bloody diarrhea right now, but that I don't understand why I can't be more slick? Case in point: I've recently enrolled in a MCAT prep course (as a side note: don't ever take one of these things for fun, they are, quite simply, awful), and my first night was this past Tuesday (or, Tuesday past, depending on your era of origin). So about halfway through our 3 hour class, our teacher let us out for a 10 minute break. Naturally, I took this opportunity to go purchase a garden salad for myself so as to quell my voracious appetite (nothing like a few pieces of lettuce and a cherry tomato to satiate oneself). Because of the short length of our break, I felt compelled to take my salad back to our classroom and eat there. So, there I was, learning about verbal reasoning passage strategies and calmly enjoying my delicious salad. Unfortunately, things quickly went downhill from here. As I placed my salad in my lap to pour some ranch dressing on top, I somehow manage to flip the entire thing over, effectively pouring an entire side of ranch onto my black yoga pants (I wear yoga pants just in case we do a break-out yoga sesh in the middle of class as a stress-managing technique). Naturally, I panicked. I didn't want any of my new classmates to see what had become of me so I took the paper bag that my salad had come in and covered up the mess I had made. At the same time, I was trying to stealthily clean the ranch off of my pants with a smallish napkin. Unfortunately, this was just making it all worse. Then, as if I wasn't embarrassed enough, the rest of my salad fell out of my lap onto the floor. My one cherry tomato (why do they always only give you one??) rolled to the other side of the room and there were red onions and carrots everywhere. The girl sitting next to me had to help me clean it all up. Needless to say, this is the last time I'll be eating in my MCAT class.

Moving on to something more exciting... I have finally found a boyfriend! It turns out, my dating website is an absolute winner. The amount of stellar inquisitions from quality boys I have gotten as a result of that website is staggering. It was hard for me to decide who I would end up with, but I think that I've made the right decision and I hope all of you will agree. His given name is Hellotoyoutoday (I think it's French) and he is a 22 year old business/entrepreneur. In his profile under the category I SPEND A LOT OF TIME THINKING ABOUT...he wrote: "Would I become a jackass if I suddenly inherited a billion dollars?" To that I say, honey, I think you're already there, estate tax-free. Please see the attached picture to get a better idea of his true beauty.




What a great photo to have on your okCupid profile, right. I've always wanted to date someone that has face that looks like a camera.









In further news, I have resigned from my post as cookie deliveree. I know this may come as quite a shock to many of you, considering that this was the whole reason I moved to Berkeley, but I've decided to pursue my other passion of online gaming. More on that later though.

I think that Stella has possibly swallowed one of her squeakie toys. I cannot be sure as of yet but I will definitely keep you posted (via intermittent radio broadcasts that will be announced by sirens and flashing lights). I tried to induce the noise by pressing on her this morning (Stella, is the pain reproducible?) but, unfortunately, this just caused her to fart on me.


Which one of these toys has Stella ingested??













After much deliberation, I have decided not do crack. Thank you for all of your support on this matter.

With all the knowledge in the world,

Trex

A dedication to my favorite dickweed OR How to survive 5 days with my Uncle Judy

After much deliberation and forethought, I decided that the best and most productive manner by which to detail my experience this past weekend at Fallen Leaf Lake with my Uncle Geoff was by way of audio and visual displays. I feel that this is the most effective way to get my point across. My point being that, not only is my Uncle one of the most insane people on record, but he is also one most entertaining, insightful, and lovable persons I know. In other words, my adoration for my uncle is only outweighed by my fear of him...







Before we could even get to the lake we had to make a much deserved stop in the city at the Elbo Room. Geoff taught all of us that you REALLY can text someone's landline. Your cell company will text you back and say "this is a landline, would you like to send a message to this number for 25 cents?" I think Geoff texted his sister to remind her that she's a dickweed.


















Our latest album cover...The Talking D-weeds.









#1 in a long (or is it short?) list of Geoff's favorite things to do when it's too cold to go swimming....

















Note that Geoff left for Stella when Grace and him headed to the lake the morning before Stella and I left...it says "Bye Stella: We need to talk, I'll call you from the lake."





I never knew I was a dickweed until this past week. Dickweed is clearly Geoff's all-time favorite word. According to Geoff; Grace is a dickweed, Pete is a dickweed, my mom is a dickweed, I am a dickweed, and Stella is a dickweed. Stella is most certainly the biggest dickweed of them all. But that is only because she broke Geoff's heart (more on that later).
















The second of Geoff's 3 favorite activities...I'm not sure how many birds he'll see with his binocs points in such a direction. They'll probably see him first.
















Here is a photo that I thought very representative of Geoff and Stella's relationship. Geoff, sitting in the shadows, staring longingly at Stella who refuses to even look at him. Things got off to a rocky start between the two of them from day one.









An entire family of dickweeds...














Last but not least on the favorite activities list.








"In light of the quality of your oeuvre, I am temporarily suspending your moniker - dickweed, pending future dubious, problematic activity on your part which of course is inevitable, you dickweed!!!! I'm pissed, I'm Judy, I shoot cats from helicopters!!!!!"
-Recent email message from the undersigned (I have no comment, I don't even understand half of these words)



Uncle Geoff, although you have not authorized any of the materials I have made publicly available (and you are a lawyer, so that could be a mistake on my part). I hope you've enjoyed this tribute to your person as much as I enjoy your endless antics.


Tank of gas to get to fallen leaf lake....$55

Stocking up with fruit, veggies and frosted flakes at Raley's...$97

Trying to fall asleep in the same room as your cousin Grace and your dickweed Uncle who is in his sleeping bag on the floor sending both of you texts that say "goodnite d-weeds".....Priceless

With much chagrin,

Trex

Ahem,

T-weed

A sidenote from UJ's sister who is currently missing, and at-large:

When Uncle Judy was about 7, his sister, J, now living in the Columbia Gorge, and at the time, about 3 and a half years younger than UJ and sadly, sharing a room, resented the fact that UJ got up earlier in the morning to got to school (he was later expelled). In an attempt to prevent him from rising the next morning, she piled all (ALL) of her toys on top of him one night, in the middle of the night. It was the beginning of UJ's lifelong struggle with mental confusion, for which he is so benignly and lovingly known. For J, it was an early realization that strange behavior could reap untold rewards, whilst going largely unnoticed in the SFS.*

*Stearns Family System