Nov 10, 2007

lassoed the cowboys, but the indians got me.

two more madden games have passed in the midst of all my blogging about Real Life. in the first, whose score or stats i'm too lazy to look up, we fragmented the cowboys by, like, a billion points. here are some pictures of that.

bunting flying into the endzone again for another rushing touchdown:


and the spear-rattling that took place afterwards:


sparks getting in on the touchdowns after an interception:


then, the redskins infuriatingly good QB and two rookie wide receivers trounced us in the next game. it didn't help that we were in the red zone twice in the first six minutes and turned it over on fumbles both times. we ended up with a total of 3 turnovers, bowes only had 60 yards, and we had 300 yards through the air, but most of them came near the end and were only in desperation. we were trailing 24-7 at the beginning of the fourth, and managed to come back and tie it 24-24 with 2 minutes left. the redskins had the ball and couldn't do anything with it, then we had a three-and-out, and then with a timeout and 37 seconds left, they went 60 yards on two plays pretty-as-you-please, and kicked a field goal to win 27-24. kill. oh, and they also infected me with a disease that made me black, which might have accounted for some of our offensive confusion:

rest easy, galactic friends.

the zerg have been beaten back into the dark reaches of space for yet another night. now, with 43 hours of near-constant consciousness under my belt...

i'm going to bed. see you in forever.

Nov 9, 2007

guess what? i hate a few things.

thing number one: college/university websites. i should stress that the forthcoming rant isn't directly towards any website in particular; these are just general observations in my now majordomo-level of experience when it comes to applying for schools. i understand that often when applying for a program, the Graduate School at the university and the department you're applying in have separate expectations, criteria, etc. but why the FUCK can't the department take the five seconds it would take to collect the Graduate School's criteria and address, stamp it into a generic-looking .html document and patch it with their own criteria on a page, oh i don't know, maybe linked directly off the "Graduate" part of the department website? the sheer amount of time i always have to spend just figuring out what to send to what department and where that department's address, or email, or .pdf submission form, or online application for aid is located is staggering. and of course requirements are always completely different for each school. i routinely have to call/email personnel in the department just to find out simple things like if there is an included cover sheet necessary for letters of recommendation, or what the zip code of the building address is. i don't understand why they could have someone in the department, upon conception of the department website, sit down and simulate the application-information-searching process for 20 whole minutes so they could realize how totally fucking whack it is and maybe take another 20 minutes to do something about it. i know that for the most part the idea behind applying to grad school is making yourself attractive to the school you want to get into, but seriously, it makes a huge difference when i'm trying to narrow down school choices whether you can just hop on to the school's website and go straight to an intuitive application page, or whether you have to run through the labyrinth for 2 hours before getting devoured by the minotaur at the end. i got rid of at least two really promising looking programs from my list this year because i simply could not figure out how to get information about applications off the website, and when i contacted the graduate english department asking for help, i was treated like i was obviously just too unintelligent to figure out the information on my own. i very nearly completed a BS in computer science...i have a pretty good idea that if that information had been readily available i could have navigated a simple webpage and found it.

i'm so glad blogs exist so that i can spew my impotent rage across the internet.

RAAAAAAAWR!!

the second thing that i hate is dad's weekend at WSU. first of all, i appreciate the idea that parents should come visit their kids at college (esp. during the first year) to see where they live, where they eat, which floormate they buy pot from, etc... but why can't they be expected to take the initiative to be interested in their son's/daughter's life on their own? why do all 30,000 sets of parents have to be encouraged to come to campus on the same week? and on a football week, no less. my god. i drove in circles around campus for 45 minutes earlier trying to find a parking spot, and not only did i not find one, i almost killed so many pedestrians because they streets were clogged like it was mardi gras and all the bars were closed. then there's the whole wonderful part of dad's and mom's weekends where all these really great, kosher, community-building exercises go on every day that entire week, essentially simulating what the university apparently wants itself to be seen as, rather than what it is. this morning, there were dads playing the piano in the old german-style frat house on the hill that i always walk by on my way home from work. quaint, yes...but compared to what usually goes on in that frat house at 2am...it's just weird. i guess i'm being cynical and i should think it's cool that parents come out and visit their kids, but it just seems sort of like another huge, well-orchestrated sham. and on top of that, it makes pullman nigh unlivable for something like five or six days. and if you're lucky, a parent or two will swing by your office and try to kick your ass for failing their son/daughter.

well, i just tested my amp in the fourth location after being assured by the local music shop that the hum was just feedback from a ground loop set up by the shoddy electronics in my apartment complex...yeah...apparently every other building in pullman suffers from the same problem except the music store. go figure. i'll have to break up my schedule of working on statements of goals and being bored as elephant testicles tomorrow to haul the thing back there again and see if they can't at least prove to me that it works correctly SOMEWHERE. i don't know what i'm going to do if it turns out their definition of "pristine" sound turns out to be what i've been hearing all along. because that's not 650 dollars worth of sound. that's like 100 dollars worth of sound. i get clearer tone out of my roland microcube and that's just disgustingly sad. i'd like to believe this thing works, but so far i've seen no evidence. i'm just never going to buy anything for myself ever again. every time i do it's broken, and then it ends up costing twice the original price before it actually works. well, time to play starcraft until someone comes by and makes fun of me for still being at work and then i leave.

i have a fever and the only cure is more blogging

i can't stop. i'm sorry; i just can't.

i just had lunch, which consisted of a huge bag of dates, two slices of pizza, a lot of candy, and an ice cream sandwich. i hadn't eaten in a ridiculous amount of time and somehow once i got in line at the bookstore everything went black and a few minutes later i was sitting at my desk with a veritable mountain of food in front of me. living on my adjunct salary, trying to pay off my credit cards and loans before next year, i don't usually eat all that much and so this was the first time in a long time i actually ate until i was stuffed. it's a weird, but good feeling. unfortunately, it's multiplied my desire to sleep by like ten.

i'm getting to that point in sleep deprivation where the idea of sleep itself is almost becoming this ecstatic, semi-sexual idea. every once i awhile, i start thinking about sleeping tonight and my response is "OH MY GOD! I CAN'T WAIT TO DO THAT! IT'S GOING TO FEEL GREAT!" it's actually a little creepy-but you figured that out when i used the word "semi-sexual", didn't you? you're clever.

i just hope, when i finally do sleep, that it lasts longer than ten minutes, and there aren't any awkward moments when i wake up where i wonder if it was in fact as fun as it should have been or if i should have done it at all. and i'll get to take myself out to breakfast afterwards, which will be nice.

okay, now that i've completely creeped the fuck out of everyone including myself, i have to go teach.

i can't be rid of me that easily!

i just remembered i wanted to mention this crazy dream i had during one of my brief sleeping escapades yesterday.

so we were playing in a baseball game at the old Cleveland Staduim (and no, i'm not sure who "we" is referring to), and for some reason, even though we were playing against the indians, everyone in the crowd wanted us to win. anyway, i was on base and was waiting to come in to score the winning run, but the guy who was batting wasn't very good and so i didn't have much hope for a good outcome. luckily, the very next pitch after i had this thought was a passed ball, and as the catcher hurried after it, i decided to try to steal home. unfortunately, just as i decided to do this, i was transported to left-center field. so i started running from there. the entire time, the catcher kept fumbling with the ball, and i was running in that super slow-motion way that you do in nightmares when the evil care bears are about to rip off your clothes and kill you or something. i finally got to the infield after what seemed like an hour, and was tearing through the middle of the infield, past the pitcher's mound, when i realized the catcher was Sandy Alomar. in that same instant i thought to myself "oh fuck, it's Sandy Alomar, if he has the ball when i get to the plate he's going to kill me". and this was actually true. in the dream-world, it was completely acceptable for the catcher to just fuck me up if he had the ball when i was trying to steal home. knowing that i couldn't take Sandy in a one-on-one free-for-all, i had to get home before he got the ball back or he would literally beat me to death while 20,000 people watched. luckily, he fumbled with the ball at the last second and i scored, and then just as i was taking off my helmet and returning to the dugout, someone (who i thought in the dream was Sandy) kicked me in the kneecap and as i was laying on the ground i saw a baseball bat descending towards my head and then i woke up. hilarious.