Infidelity and I

1:00am

*My phone rings. The number is restricted. I don't answer. I go to bed.*

2:30am

*My phone rings. It's another restricted number. I figure someone really needs to get a hold of me so I pick up the phone.*

me: Hello?

x: Who is this?

me: Um.........Grant.

x: Iskeishathere?

me: What?

x: IsKEISHAthere?

me: I can't understand the name you're saying.

x: KEISHA. Is KEISHA there.

me: I think you have the wrong number.

x: NO I don't.

me: Um.....

x: Is Keisha with you?

me: Nobody named Keisha is here?

x: Do you wanna f****** start something?

me: No!

x: Good.

(long pause)

x: Are you sleeping with my wife?

me: (somewhat exasperated) No!

x: Is she there?

me: No. I don't even know who you are?

x: YES you do.

me: You have me confused with someone. My name is GRANT.

x: I know! Are you with her?

me: Look, guy, I don't even know who you are.

*click*


2:45am

*My phone rings. It's a restricted number. Getting the feeling that this guy is going to keep calling me I pick up to try and convince him he has a wrong number.*

me: Yeah?

x: Who is this?

me: I already told you. My name is GRANT.

*click*


So yeah. Some guy thinks I'm sleeping with his wife, Keisha. I'm just trying to figure out how he got my number, how he decided that I was the guy having an affair with his wife, and why he wouldn't rethink his strategy after being told he had a wrong number.

And just so you know, no, I'm not sleeping with some guy's wife. You know, in case you thought that was something I'd do. Sleep with some guy's wife. And then write about it on my blog.

He hasn't called back so I'm assuming he realized that the sleepy sounding guy on the other end of the phone was not the guy he was after.

Sometimes I wonder why my life is so strange.

I'm not naming any names, but...

...it's not like I have to.

Once upon a time I put a lot of my heart and soul into a band. The angels sang and the heavens opened up and shone a beam of light down, the peasants rejoiced, and it was good.

Then it wasn't good.

Whether it was philosophical intimidation, stealing of the spotlight, or something much more mundane (and even more unexplainable), I was kicked from the band. Dodging lies and insults hurled in my direction, I found myself on the hurting end of what felt like a breakup where the last line spoken was, "It's not us, it's you."

Curiosity, though it did kill the cat, got the better of me recently. I decided to do some snooping to see how life is treating the band. Part of me wanted them to be doing well since one of my very good friends joined just as I was booted (so anything bad I could say about them would not be aimed at him in the least), but let's be honest, that was a very small part of me.

After looking around I had to laugh. Hard.

Here's a recap of what has happened since I left (as far as I can tell):

-The new bassist (who the band "leader" was already courting before my dismissal) is gone, thereby leaving the band a three-piece despite the intricacy of the songs requiring at least four.

-No new songs have been uploaded, which is funny since when I was in the band there was a new song up at least once a month.

-No dates to play any venues have been posted, which is funny since the only shows they boast of now (House of Blues, Hard Rock Cafe, etc) are from when I was in the band. "Oh poor me" blogs about being taken advantage of by the venues (as in not getting paid, which, if you know anything about small bands, is a given) is the only excuse.

-Fake news articles tout the band's amazing EP (an EP which, oddly enough, doesn't show off the real band since the songs are all (aside from crappy live recordings) the band "leader", by himself, in his room, recording into his computer with no accompaniment by the other band members) and attempt to garner publicity through deception.

-The biggest supporters of the band are still the fake MySpace friends that were created in attempt to start some sort of buzz about the band. Somehow ecstatic praise coming from "the girlfriend" or "the mom" doesn't seem to be quite as exciting.

-Their logo is still stolen from a sticker found in downtown Fullerton.

-The only seemingly new development is pictures from a photo shoot, which is exceedingly amusing considering that the fake news article espouses fake ideals about "the craft" being more important than "all these fake bands" who are all about "image." I'm not sure what the point of those comments are when the pictures are iconic, moody black and whites with costume sunglasses.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not, by any means, saying that *I* made the band, or that *I* was the only good thing in the band, or anything about *me*. What I'm saying is that it's always nice to look back at a situation in which you were horribly mistreated only to find that nothing good has come of it since you were no longer a part of it.

Sure, call me insensitive; call me anything you like, but it pretty much made my day.

-Freefalling

A Media Review...So You Don't Have To Think For Yourself!

I was on my way to work the other day and, as per usual, was listening to music. All my cd’s were in my room, Indi 103.1 in Brea sounds like a blocked porn channel on TV, KROQ was either blasting Guitar Center commercials with the loudest and most annoying announcer ever or playing that horrible Crazy Bitch song for the 5th time that hour, and my only option was some mixed rock, we-play-everything station. A song came on that at first caught my attention due to its abnormal beginning and kept my attention because it was like watching a train wreck. That song was Gwen Stefani’s new club hit Wind It Up. I thought we could go through the song and analyze Gwen’s musical genius.

A few points of clarification:

1- “lay-od-lay” type words are yodeling.
2- Despite having heard the song myself, I read “goatherd” as “go-therd” and thought “what the heck is a go-therd?” It’s goat-herd. Apparently it’s not hyphenated.
3- “uh, uh, uh” should be read as orgasmic exhalations.
4- Italicized words are the song lyrics.


High on the hills with the lonely goatherd, lay-od-lay-od-lay-he-hoo
Yodell back with the girl and goatherd, lay-od-lay-od-low

So we start with either a politically correct version of the shepherd (since most shepherds were men, but, come on, this is 2006, women can be shepherds dammit!), or possibly with a throwback to The Sound of Music with an all-singing, all-dancing extravaganza on a green hill with goats watching on.

Wind it up
Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Yodellay, yodallay, yodal-low

Hmm…now things get interesting. We are whip-lashed from goat herding and green hills to the phrase “wind it up” being repeated. Let’s see where this goes, shall we?

(Yeah)

Yeah.

This is the key that makes us wind up
When the beat comes on, the girls all line up
And the boys all look, but no, they can't touch
But the girls want to know why the boys like us so much

“This” is the key is referring to something, but what? Yodeling? Why not switch the first two lines, talk about the beat and then say that it’s the key, then we know that the beat is the key. If that is, indeed, what Gwen is talking about. But I’m not sure. Also, “but” is used in most sentences to show why a previous statement is wrong or misguided or in need of review. So the boys want to look but they can’t touch (one assumes because the girls won’t let them), BUT the girls want to know why the boys like them. This is getting confusing.

They like the way we dance, they like the way we work
They like the way that L.A.M.B. is going across my shirt
They like the way my pants, it compliments my shape (She's crazy, right?)
They like the way we react everytime we dance

Ok, ok, so now we know why the boys like them: 1- They dance well, 2- They work, 3- They wear Gwen Stefani’s overpriced brand of clothing (yeah, I’m sure that’s why the boys are staring at the girl’s chests), 4- They like the way their pants fit (also, they must like proper grammar: “the way my pants, it compliments my shape”, ugh), 5- They like the way they react.

Everytime the bass bangs, realize it calls your name
Let the beat wind you up, and don't stop till your time is up
Get in line now

Alright, so now we know what is winding them up for sure…it’s the beat. Ooooh! A tie in to the second stanza!

Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Yodellay, yodallay, yodal-low

Now back to the yodeling? Ok.

You've got to let the beat get under your skin
You've got to open up, and let it all in
But see, once it gets in, the poppin' begins
And then you find out, why all the boys stare

I’m attempting to ignore the atrocious rhyme scheme here (a,a,a,b) that doesn’t connect with any other stanza in order to understand the words. Alright, so now we know why the boys stare (which I guess is different then why they like the girls?), it’s the poppin’.

They're trying to bite our style
Trying to study our approach
They like the way we do it, so original
I guess that they are slow, so they should leave the room
This beat is for the clubs, and cars that go

Who’s trying to bite their style? Either the boys (they’re cross-dressing?) or the suddenly, “huh?”-inspiring introduction of the “other girls.” Who’s studying their approach? The boys? I thought the girls weren’t letting the boys anywhere near them, and if so, then why are the girls approaching the boys? Who likes the way they do what? What’s original? Who is slow and why should they leave? Is she making fun of retarded people? Ohhhh, I guess it all makes sense now; this beat is for clubs and non-broken cars.

Everytime the bass bangs, realize it calls your name
Let the beat wind you up, and don't stop till your time is up
Get in line now

Yeah, yeah…repetition.

Uh, uh, uh, wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
(Ya'll ready)

I’m ready!

Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Yodellay, yodallay, yodal-low

Oh, that’s what I was getting ready for?

Uh huh, it's your moment
Uh huh, come on girl, you know you own it
Uh huh, you know your key is still tick-tockin'
Hell yeah, and you know they're watchin'

How does a key keep “tick-tockin’” exactly?

Get it girl, get it, get it girl
Get it girl, get it, get it girl
To the font, to the side,
To the back, but don't let him ride

So now she’s taking a line from a thousand other rap songs and teaching girls how to tease guys all the while making sure they simply enter the club, dance close to the guys, never let them touch them, and then leave all alone.

Keep goin' girl, it's your night
Don't let him steal your light
I know he thinks you're fine and stuff
But does he know how to wind you up?
(Come on)

How would the guy steal her light? Is he getting on stage and dancing in front of her? Is he wearing something skankier than her (ooh, this could go back to where the guys were trying to bite the girl’s style), what? Also, I’m so glad she says “I know he thinks you’re fine and stuff” because with all the blinding clarity in this song we needed an ambiguous word like “stuff” thrown in to clear things up.

Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Wind it up, uh, uh, uh, uh
Yodellay, yodallay, yodal-low, hey!

Wow. What a beacon of enlightenment. What a gleaming example of rhyme scheme, assonance and alliteration, and proper grasp of the English language. What a glorious piece of artwork.

If you’d like to see the video for this wonderful song (maybe it will shine some light upon this piece of garbage) I’ve posted it below for your enjoyment or to your chagrin.




EDIT: I just watched the video for the first time and the only thing it clarifies is that The Sound of Music is indeed the inspiration for some of this (somehow). Other than that, your guess is as good as mine.

October: The Month that Stole My Money

It has been a month and a half since any sort of substantive post so here I go with the catch-up game again. If you would like a reference guide to where we are headed on this strange and unconnected trip, please refer to the previous post. A word of warning, some items which will be discussed might not be referred to in said reference post. My apologies.


Grant's 24th Birthday Extravaganza

So I turned, as the title says, 24. The night before the big day I worked, late. Megan stopped by and we hit the Yardhouse where I got pizza and a free dessert because by that time it was actually past midnight. My boss was the first person to call and wish me a happy birthday even though he just kept me over 6 hours for completely unecessary reasons.

The next day was a dual-party at Griffin Park in LA for Chrissy and her friend (though it was neither of their actual birthdays), so I got to bask in the glory of birthday-ness while watching pinatas get bashed, crafts get made, eggs get broken in the egg toss, and some creepy game called "long donkey" get played.

After the party Megan and I had dinner, got another free dessert, changed in my truck, and hit the amazing club Giant. The people were fun, the music was awesome, and a bartender named Merk gave us free water and shots. Go Merk!

Eight days later in post-birthday celebration (also post-graduation celebration) a group of us hit Disneyland to go to the infamous Club 33. We hit some rides (many of which have changed since I have been there), ate amazing food at the only place in Disneyland that serves alcohol, and 12 hours later we were done. Sadly there was no free dessert.


Three days later in even more post-birthday celebration a group of us went to Knott's Scary Farm. I haven't been to Knotts in about 10 years (or more) and I have never been to their Halloween festivities, so this was great. Megan bought some light-up rabbit ears so every maze we went into someone would follow her around rasping, "bunny bunny BUNNY BUNNY!" So one rollar-coaster, a couple mazes, a few bottles of water, and contemplating the hour long line for funnel cake later, we were done.


All in all, an amazing (and amazingly long) birthday.


50Fifty Turns 5

That's mean 5 years, 493 posts (not counting this one), which equals 1 post every 3.7 days, or 1 post every 88.8 hours, or every 5,328 minutes, or every 319,680 seconds. If you have read them all, I applaud you.


Fifty50 Gets Rejected

I think my other site of freeflowing artistic expression is completely dead. With a sense of deja vu I will say: "In accordance with Fifty50 -- Ok, I give up. My page sucks and I know it. I am just going to have to live vicariously through Aaron, Ed, and Christina's sites. That will have to do. But I WILL get MY stuff on THEIR pages. That is my promise. So, you want my stuff (yeah right), go there. Goodbye cruel website world. (I sometimes feel that I give in too easily). This page will stay up as a rememberance of Grant's failure."


Video Games: Great Diversions or Destroyer of Souls

Actually, I don't really feel like talking about this right now, I'll get to it later.


Bottle Openers and Why They Should Work

Why did I tell you guys I would talk about this? The whole story was that I got this cool bottle opener which looked like a moose's head and I had it on my keychain and after like 5 bottles were opened with it the bottom jaw of the moose broke off. Now it looks like a retarded moose. Why would you sell a bottle opener that is purely for ornamental use?!? Why!?!


News Flash: Waiters (and maybe Walters) Sell Their Souls

How much does a waiter have to sell to make $1?

Let's take an average tip rate of 15% (which is supposed to be typical of average service, unless you work at Gaucho, then 8% from, um, certain nationalities, seems like a generous offer). Ok, so:

To make 1 dollar with a 15% tip rate: .15 x X = .999

Answer: $6.66

Now I could go into all sorts of tirades about "all the hell a waiter has to go through to make a buck," or "how waiters have to sell their souls just to make a dollar," or anything along those lines, but it wouldn't have the same effect as you getting a waiting job yourself. So if you haven't done so, do it, you'll feel differently about your waiters from then on.


Poll Results

For the Super Powers Poll, here are the results:
(There is some confusion because someone tried to rescind a vote and make it count for another, so these results might be skewed)

Ability to talk at super speed: 1
Super-fast fingernail growing: 0
Ability to bleed on command: 0
A removable head: 2
Flight for 2 second increments: 5

Wow, looks like people would choose the ability to fly over just about anything, even if only for 2 measly seconds. Also, I guess depending on how fast you could fly, that would leave you x number of feet in the air and then suddenly plummeting towards the pavement. I still say a removable head has better perks.


Conclusion

Alright, you are sorta caught up now. Seriously, I have no money and no time now. October stole all my time due to said events and all my money and now I have to scramble to not fail all my classes at Talbot. Oh Talbot, how I sometimes loathe thee.


p.s.

For Aro, I changed the text size by 1.5 to make things easier to read. Any better? Now it really does look like “waiters.”

For everyone else, I removed the poll. I think I was seriously phoning it in by the end there so you’ll have to do with no more pointless polls from me.


Farewell friends, till...um...probably another month and a half.

::salutes::

Lonely as a Garden in the Cloud State

Topics of impending update:

-Grant's 24th birthday extravaganza
-50Fifty turns 5
-Fifty50 gets rejected
-Video Games: Great Diversion or Destroyer of Souls
-Bottle Openers and Why They Should Work
-News Flash: Waiters Sell Their Souls
-Poll Results

Don't go see The Black Dahlia!

I have nothing more to say about this abomination.

There...I said it.

Little Miss Inspirational?

Megan and I just went and saw Little Miss Sunshine and despite Megan's extreme hatred of films that make you feel uncomfortable (and therefore dislike of the film in general), I loved it. Seriously, go see it. I doubt it will go down as one of my all-time favorites, but it is better than most any film that has come out recently.

The best part of the adventure was when Megan and I walked up to the ticket window to get our tickets. Here's a transcript of the event:

me: Hi, two for Little Miss Sunshine please.
girl: That will be eighteen dollars.
::Grant gets out money to pay::
girl: Can I see an ID please?
::Grant furrows his brow::
girl: You have to be 18 to see the film, it is rated R.
::Megan laughs out loud and Grant smiles at how funny she is until they both notice that she's not laughing and is dead serious::
Grant: Here you go.

That's right ladies and gentlemen; I was accused of being 17 today. This world gets stranger every time I turn around.

Catching up With

First order of business, the last poll. You remember, the one you didn't like? The one about symbolic logic. Yeah. That one. I only got three votes. The questions was basically "not not a and b therefore:", and the answer would then be "not a and not b." Two people were way off, Megan guessed right (high-five!), and since the only person I know who went to Cal Poly is Kevin, and he is even better at symbolic logic than I, and I accidentally erased his answer, I'll assume he got it right too. Good work team!

Second order of business, I am now back in school and will be essentially ignoring you (the collective you) till about the 12th-ish of December. If you catch me during a break, or when I'm having a nervous breakdown from all the studying you very well might get me to go out and have a crazy night of shenanigans.

Third order of business, Fifty50 has some new stuff up but is slowly dying without your help! Go there! Post random crap! Do it now!

Fourth order of business, I'll be posting tons of pictures from the last days of summer very soon. You may look at them and be jealous of all the fun that was had.

Fifth order of business, go see Kindred Fall at the Roxy tomorrow (Wednesday) night at like 6:30. Or call me to ask about the time. I'll totally buy you a shot of Patron. Or maybe Cazadores. Or maybe just Sauza because that other stuff is expensive.

Sixth order of business, I have class in an hour or so, I'm going now. But first I will leave you with this:



I sincerely hope this needs no explanation.


EDIT: Here are the pictures!

Reunions, BM, Farewells, Bowling, and Goths

But not necessarily in that order.

No, wait...I lied...it will be in that order.

So my 5 year reunion came up a couple weeks ago. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it but a quick flight, a short drive, and I was there. I met up with my all-time best friends Jordan and Kevin and we headed over. A quick registration and we found ourselves on our old campus, in our old gym, and listening to music with lyrics such as "Let's get hyphy, stupid drunk and hyphy." Ah Bay Area rap slang. I looked around the gym and realized something:



...it was really, really empty.

A class of 250 kids and 17 showed up. Three of which were implemental in creating the event, and three of which were my friends and I. We made the best of it, ate some sandwiches, drank some punch, watched a video montage, and took off early.

The next stop? The famed Blue Monkey. Oh, you haven't heard of it? That's because you're not cool. Kevin, Jordan and I hit the BM. One Red Headed Slut, one Liquid Cocaine, one Grey Goose and redbull, and one lemon-drop shooter later and we were dancing amidst the crowds of drunken dancers. Many slightly ill-aimed photos were taken:



The next night I headed over to a farewell party for my friend Aaron. He was my goth mentor in high school, accompanied me on an awesome trip to Oregon, skipped class to eat pie from Marie Calanders, and many other memorable activities including dying our hair for a play at 2am in the supposedly locked high school theatre. The party was amazing and there were at least 5 times the number of people than at the reunion. There were farewell speeches, lots of alcohol, hookah, and some good friends:


That's me, Aaron, and John from high school. Later I ended up playing one of those cool wooden box instruments while being accompanied by a girl on guitar:



The next week was a bowling party to say goodbye to the summer. Chad, Tara, Megan, Deirdre, Kyle, and I headed over to Lynbrook Lanes. During the wait for the lane we played some video games:



There was also a Dance Dance Revolution off between Megan and I, but I won't be posting those pictures. We played three games, didn't score as high as the time I got the 198, and headed home. The rest of the night consisted of stealing chairs from the local Jr. High, taking walks and finding a fox, listening to music, and a goodnight hug to end the night:


Last night I was trying to find something to do and found a goth club that has a Sunday night gathering. I slathered on some eyeliner and headed to the club. I was surrounded by guys in more makeup than any girl I know, more trench coats than the Matrix trilogy wrapped into one, a girl in a air-filter mask, boots heavy enough to withstand the blast from a land-mine, and some of the craziest dancing I've ever been involved in. I only have one picture from preparing for the night:



All in all it's been quite the eventful summer to say the least. I start class in two days and then my free time as I know it is officially dead. Sad. I look forward to another semester, but I really look forward to another summer full of fun.

And now the quote of the week from Futurama:

::Fry eats an unknown substance::

"This is GOOD! It's like sex! Only I'M having it!"

What Can Happen in 5 years?

I'm about to find out.

5 year high school reunion...here I come.



`

Thursday of the Fifteenth Week of Ordinary Time

I completely forgot to post results from the last Poll of the Week (or PW as the cool kids call it...the cool kids who aren't from the midwest or the south who know those initials as the infamous Piggily Wiggily), so here they are:

Which of These is Not True (results)

1- First alcoholic drink was at age 19 (0 votes)
--I guess everyone either thinks I was a lush at an early age, or was a relatively late bloomer. Either way, this is true.

2- I was almost named miles (2 votes)
--Though you might like to think that my parents would not bestow such a name upon me, it's true...I was almost Miles Paige.

3- I couldn't whistle or snap until about age 18 (3 votes)
--Thanks to the three of you who thought that I would have been more talented by that age to have acquired such skills, but this is true. Luckily I can now whistle, and have even been given the nickname "snappy" due to excessive snapping at times.

4- I used to have a comb-over (2 votes)
--Thanks for the vote of confidence folks, but it's true, I used to sport that atrocious hairstyle with a part on one side and a slight pompadour thing on the other but not so much in the greaser style. Oh man was I stylin.

5- I got straight A's until college (3 votes)
--The three of you either voted for this due to 1) Having heard me tell you before, 2) Thinking that I surely got straight A's even IN college, or 3) Thinking that I'm not too bright and surely got a few B's or maybe D-'s before college. The third grouping would be correct. Math, one of the banes of my existence, thwarted my straight A's in 7th grade. Oh the atrocity!

::
::

And now for something (not) completely different...

Would You Rather Have ________ (results):

1- Three arms (1 vote)
--Upside: Just think of how much you could juggle!
--Downside: Two arms is already hard enough when sleeping, where the heck would the third one go?

2- Three eyes (1 vote)
--Upside: You could probably pass yourself off as some kind of Oracle
--Downside: If you have bad eyes think of the corrective lens cost!

3- Three legs (0 votes)
--Looks like nobody considered the possibility of winning a three legged race every frickin time.

4- Three brains (3 votes)
--Upside: You could pay attention in class AND play Tetris at the same time!
--Downside: Enormous cranium...and probably not too many dates.

5- Three nipples (3 votes)
--Upside: Come on! It's three nipples! Need I say more?
--Downside: Sans a third pectoral muscle, where the heck would it go?

::
::

So what have we learned here? That Grant isn't a super genius and that nipples and brains are better than arms, legs, and eyes.

Now you know, and knowing's half the battle.

Le avventure di Megan e di Grant

Oh honorable reader, oh dearest friend, oh seeker of knowledge and truth...sit down and be smitten with a tale so glorious, so horrible, so uproarious as to instantly go down in the history of histories, the annals of 50Fifty.

Grant, after a hard day at work (which lasted only 1.5 hours) called Megan who had an even harder day...at a spa having a massage and lounging in a jacuzzi. The plans for tonight? To hit the not-so-infamous Shark Club to dance the night away. After getting decked out in fashionable club-wear they drove to the blue neon signs and the large bouncer guarded doors.

Walking up to the door two guys in wife-beaters are staring at us. I dismiss this as I say "Ladies first" and let Megan go ahead of me. The bouncer says, "That was nice of you," which, at the time, meant nothing more than that which it would usually mean.

Inside I notice a sign...this is not the same club I was at the last time I was here. Tonight it's called Friction. There is different music, a different crowd, and even different decor in some places. We hit the bar, get some drinks, and head to the outside area to mingle and sip from our plastic cups.

Once outside Megan says to me, "At first I totally thought you were taking me to a gay club because of those guys standing outside in their wife-beaters." I laughed and took a sip of my drink. Then I looked around and noticed a few things: 1) There were only about 5 girls in the group of 50 or so people, and they were all, shall we say, overweight. 2) The guys were all dressed either very fashionably (more so than usual club attire) or very revealing. 3) I was getting checked out...a lot...and not by the 5 fat girls.

Megan suddenly looks shocked and says, "This is a GAY club!"

Hmm...things now make sense. The name Friction, the lack of girls, the getting checked out...yup, definitely accidentally showed up on a night when the club was having it's gay night.

As if we needed any more confirmation, as we were dancing on the main floor three guys in white boxer-briefs get up on stage and start dancing while people put dollar bills in their underwear. Then, as if straight from Cirque, a guy is swinging on a big metal hoop in the air above everyone dancing.

Megan couldn't keep it together and was laughing hard enough to need to cover her mouth while I attempted to dance in a direction where I wouldn't see any gyrating men (thereby forcing Megan to have them directly in her line of sight). I had a few stalkers who I guess thought that my dancing with Megan was me playing hard to get. I guess they thought me kissing her was more of the same.

Ok ok...I have to concede...I can sympathize with girls who say they don't like going to clubs because of how persistent and annoying guys can be.

All in all though a very interesting evening. I'm sure Megan won't simply take my club suggestions at face value anymore though. I guess a little bit of internet research would have cleared things up.

Worth $36?



I'm not sure.

New stuff over at Fifty50!!!

An updated life for updated times

This has already been a full summer, and it's only the beginning of July. Here's a short recap of 'things that have happened' for all those I neglect to talk to often enough:


1- Thanks to everyone who partook in the ground-breaking 50Fifty Poll of the Week (which was more like poll of the month). Here are the results for the "Should Grant Get This Tattoo" Poll:

4- Yes.
8- No.
2- He couldn't even take the pain.
4- You're kidding, right?

Now since people can vote more than once, it's possible that somebody just really abhorred the idea of a tattoo on me and voted that. Sadly, I don't base my life on internet polls (wait, maybe not sadly), so you'll all have to wait and see if I actually do it or not. Oh the anticipation!

Now vote on the next poll!


2- After I aced my summer school theology course I went to see Flight of the Conchords with Megan. We hit LA, went to Canters, stood in line for around 4 hours, and got to see the funniest comedy act anywhere in the world. Here is the only photographic proof I have of the event:



No cameras were allowed inside so we took one outside. There are a few more of our feet and the Canters sign, but I'll save you the trouble of scrolling past them.


3- I went to La Quinta with my family. Yes, it was over 110 most days. Yes, I almost died. Here is some photographic evidence of my family's trip (there are hundreds more):



Yeah, were soon all drinking margaritas. The trip also included heat, more heat, golfing, spa stuff, heat, Chad's birthday, a belated father's day, more heat, Chad's dog dying, more heat, an aerial tram, and too much food.


4- After I got back I spent some much needed time away from the heat and with Megan. Part of which was at Christina's second half of her birthday party (since I missed the first half)! Here is some photographic evidence of that crazy little shindig:



Yeah, we're playing Shots N' Ladders. I totally had to take a shot of Peppermint Schnaps (thanks Aro) and we christened Christina's soon to be abandoned apartment with lots of spilled champagne.


5- The 4th was spent at a backyard pool party in Redlands con Megan y la familia de Megan. There was lots of margaritas, lots of swimming (and getting attacked by small children), good food, some distant fireworks, and a very strange venturing into a Sav-On Drugs. Sadly there is no photographic evidence that any of this occured.


6- Now it's the 5th and we're having a belated bowl-o-thon at Lynbrook Lanes for Chad's now belated birthday. There will surely be karaoke, alcohol, bad bowling, good bowling, and pictures. You'll be sure to see them.


And now? Now I will take a short nap. I'm exhausted. Don't worry, you're all caught up on my life now. You can take a deep breath. I'll keep you informed if any other life-altering activities take place.

Oh the wonders of the internet...

Today I got a "request" from Facebook which looked like this:

You have a request from Megan Ball to add her as your girlfriend. [confirm] [reject]

Apparently the internet allows us push-button relationship status now?

::
::

Oh, by the way, I pushed accept.

I'm off to 112 degree weather for 5 days...

I'll be back soon and I'll be the same ol' Grant...only much redder.

Amuse yourselves with this while I'm away:

Because I apparently can't quench my thirst for procrastination

Everyone, I'd like you to meet a new friend:

Fifty50

In Honour of My Final Tomorrow...

...we will now have Out of Context Quotes with Professor Lewis:

"What else is in the news? Aside from Brittany Spears probably having dropped her baby again."
-Lewis on actually news-worthy items of discussion

"I got your tests back and...everyone who took the test...got a grade."
-Lews...being a smartass

"Seriously, Joseph Smith must have been eating magic mushrooms at the time. He went, wait, what's the technical term...he went whackjob on everyone."
-Lewis on Mormonism

"That's the problem when 15 year-old boys start cults with a magic rock and a hat."
-Lewis, once more on Mormonism

"Dude, I got a charley-horse between the ears on that one."
-Lewis on his own insanely difficult definitions


In other news, my summer school midterm is tomorrow. A few days after...I am free. FREE! Oh the joy that will come with my freedom. You have no idea. Or do you?

It is a good thing that life is not as serious as it seems to a waiter.
-Don Herold

Here is a small guide to all restaurant goers who have never been a waiter, or who have, but have forgotten how miserable a line of work it can be:

Grant's Guide to Being a Restaurant Patron

Chapter 1: On Entering the Restaurant

1.1 Upon requesting a menu for further inspection there is no need, if you decide to not stay at the restaurant, to make excuses or apologize.

e.g. Saying “We’ll, uh, be right back,” and then bolting out the door as if we are going to chase you down and force our food down your throats is not necessary.

1.2 Unless a prominent sign states “Please Seat Yourself,” do not seat yourself.
1.2.1 If you are a self-seater, you wave all right to complain that initial service was slow.
1.3 If you are told there is a wait, and you see empty tables, do not ask repeatedly if you can sit at one of said empty tables. If you do, we reserve the right to smack you.



Chapter 2: On Ordering

2.1 Do not hold the menu in reading position and scan it with your eyes if you are ready to order and in a hurry.
2.1.1 You wave all right to complain about your waiter not taking your order if you are still reading the menu.
2.1.2 Closing the menu, or placing it on the edge of the table is a wonderful gesture, though not absolutely necessary.
2.2 Read the menu. No…wait…read it all. Even the fine print. Chances are it will answer your questions about substitutions, extra expenses, sides, and prices.
2.2.1 If the menu lists food items and has numbers below said food items (sans decimal places or dollar signs) and those numbers are not in sequential order and you simply cannot find item prices anywhere near said food items, please use logical inference to realize that those numbers are the prices. Sentences such as these will not be tolerated:

“I’ll have the number 18.”
-No, you won’t, you’re not at McDonalds and the slightest glance will inform you that there are about six 18’s on that page alone.

“Your menu has no prices!”
-Oh no! We should remedy that! But in the meantime, how about you use those numbers right under the item you are looking at!

2.3 Do not say you are ready and then proceed to look through the entire menu while your waiter stands by, pen in hand, thereby wasting your waiter’s time and infernally frustrating all his/her other tables that know what the sentence “Yes, we are ready to order,” means.
2.4 There are stupid questions, so do not ask them. Conversations along these lines will not be tolerated:

“Do you have raspberry lemonade?”
“No, we only have regular lemonade.”
“Do you have strawberry lemonade?”
-sigh…

“What is the Pollo a la Mostaza?”
-Well, if you were to read the text right under it you might not have to ask.

“I’m stuck between (names two items of completely contrasting qualities), which one do you like?”
-There’s a reason they call it personal taste. I’m just going to pick the more expensive one.

2.5 Please actually read the item description and make sure it is what you want.
2.5.1 This will come into play in Chapter 3



Chapter 3: On Receiving Your Order

3.1 The plates your waiter is holding are most likely very hot and very heavy and you must accommodate him/her due to these conditions. Reactions that are not allowed:

-Blank stares when he/she asks who ordered the filet (while his/her fingers are slowly blistering due to your inability to remember what you ordered).

-Simply watching your waiter attempt to juggle four plates and move your silverware/bread plate/napkin/glass out of the way so he/she can set your food down.

3.2 Your memory issues are not your waiter’s memory issues. If you ordered the garlic steak, but you actually wanted to order the Portobello mushroom steak, you wave all rights to complain about what you received.
3.2.1 See 2.5
3.2.2 Conversations such as these will not be accepted:

“Where is the dijon sauce?”
“You ordered the chicken with garlic sauce.”
“Yeah, but where is the dijon sauce?”
“On the dijon chicken, which you did not order, you ordered garlic chicken.”
“Yeah, but I want dijon sauce.”

“This isn’t souffle.”
“You’re right, it’s souffle cake, like the menu says.”
“But I wanted souffle.”
“We don’t have souffle, we have souffle cake, which is what you ordered.”



Chapter 4: On Finishing Your Meal

4.1 If you are finished with your meal and your waiter asks, “How is everything? Can I get you anything else?” and you do not want anything else, you have three options:

-One: Respond with, “No, we’re all done. Thank you.”
-Two: Respond with, “Could we have (fill in number) to-go boxes?”
-Three: Respond with, “No, you can bring the check.”

4.1.1 Responding with, “No, we’re fine,” is not an adequate response if you want your waiter to take any action other than walking away and asking again in 10 minutes.
4.1.2 Taking the extra step and stacking plates, or putting your napkin in your plate, or sliding your plate to the edge of the table to signify your status is a wonderful gesture, though not absolutely required.
4.2 Stating discrepancies with your order, or complaints about previous service/taste of food/etc at this point is not allowed. All discrepancies/complaints must be brought to your waiter’s attention at the time of realization or you wave all right to complain.



Chapter 5: On Check Etiquette

5.1 Do not complain about extra expenses due to substitution of more expensive item, extra sides, or gratuity that is expressly stated in the menu.
5.1.1 See 2.2
5.2 If you are one of the last tables in the restaurant and it is obvious that your waiter is waiting on you so he/she can leave, do not withhold payment of the bill.
5.3 When appropriate method of payment has been inserted into the book, either place the book at the edge of the table, or stand the book up with payment slightly protruding.
5.3.1 You wave all right to complain about your waiter not picking up the book to run the credit card/get you change if the book is out of his/her reach, or not obviously filled with appropriate forms of payment.
5.4 If you want change, do not assume your waiter knows this information. Placing a $100 bill inside the book for a $15 meal and not explicitly asking for change means you just tipped your waiter $85.



Chapter 6: On Proper Tipping Etiquette

6.1 A simple rule of thumb on tipping should be memorized:

-Worst service ever = 5-10%
-Bad service = 12%
-Ok service = 15%
-Good service = 18%
-Very good service = 20% or higher

6.1.1 Servers have to tip out bartenders, host/hostesses, the kitchen, and busboys, as well as declare 15% of their tips. Your 15% tip is not a generous offer.
6.2 Doubling the tax does not work, especially if you ordered alcohol which is not taxable.
6.3 Just because you gave a tithe at church does not mean you can tip less on Sundays.
6.4 Problems such as under/overcooked food, lackluster presentation, less than adequate taste of food/beverage, and speed of food’s arrival have nothing to do with your waiter. Lowering tip due to these is simply a slap in the face for something that is out of his/her hands. Tip based on your waiter’s performance.
6.5 Over-complimenting your waiter does not count as tip and does not make a small tip more acceptable.
6.6 Your waiter gets paid minimum wage and lives off of his/her tips. Tipping less than average means he/she will be eating ramen.
6.7 If you are using a diner club card you are expected to tip off of the actual (not discounted) bill, and if you are using a gift certificate you are expected to leave a generous tip since you nearly just ate for free.



Chapter 7: Miscellany

7.1 Novel Concept: You want good service? Make your waiter happy. You want bad service (and bad things to happen to your food)? Nag, complain, and make your waiter’s life a living hell.
7.2 Do not come into a restaurant 10 minutes before it closes and sit down for a long meal.
7.3 If you need three things (e.g. ketchup, a new knife, and a refill of your drink), ask for it all at the same time. Asking for one item and upon receiving said item asking for another ad infinitum is unacceptable.
7.4 If there is one dirty table surrounded by five clean tables, do not ask to sit at the one dirty table thereby forcing a busboy to clean while you impatiently wait.

::
::

Addendum: Any and every rule dealing with situations that are within your waiter’s control may be overruled if your waiter happens to be the worst waiter in the universe. You must, however, be absolutely sure your waiter is actually at fault before penalizing him/her for his/her actions.

::
::

Coming soon: Book Two on Some Other Topic that Makes Grant Angry!

You are my sweetest downfall...
...I loved you first

Doctor, there's something wrong with me
My health is not all that it used to be

Thursday, 8:45am

Dreams of strange IM conversations, scientifically enhanced killers, and needing to go to the bathroom waft away like smoke as an actual need to go to the bathroom and a tiny spark of dread are suppressed.

I can’t go to the bathroom…not till 9:45.

I drive through traffic ridden freeways and pull up to the chipped and peeling brown wooden walls of a building I wish I had never seen. I walk into room 101 and up to the receptionist’s desk.

Are you…Mister Paige?

Yes.

You don’t need to sign in, just have a seat.

I am the only one in the room under 70 and they all eye me as if I am invading their inner sanctum. Old people can’t go to dance clubs and young people can’t go to urogynecological offices. An old Jewish couple stand in the middle of the room…well, the woman stands, the man is in a wheelchair. She talks to the receptionist…

If you don’t mind I’ll leave him here instead of lugging him around. He’s not needed right now.

I glance at the magazine titles that surround me: Women’s Health, Golf Living, Better Homes and Gardens, and the occasional Guide to Understanding Medicare. I can’t bear to feign interest in any of them as I redirect my focus to random conversations. The nurse hangs up the phone and turns to another nurse…

Swollen testicles. Very painful. He wants to know if we can fit him in today.

The nurse calls my name…she’s new. Not the same 70-year-old woman who has been the nurse for my last 12 or so visits. She is confused when I don’t listen to her instructions and already know what to do. After the urine sample I sit in a room on the edge of a paper-covered bed with an oversized paper towel as my only covering from the waist down. The entire wall in front of me is covered in one of those huge pictures of a beautiful outdoor scene. So if I use my imagination I am simply sitting naked from the waist down out by a nice pond in Tennessee…surrounded by medical equipment, since what’s a pond without IVs, boxes of rubber gloves, and sterile swabs?

Dr. K walks in and pats me on the back.

How’s it goin’ buddy? Everything working all right?

I go through the motions as Dr. K and the new nurse set up. Soon I’m lying on the bed sans my oversized paper towel that I really, at this moment, want back. The new nurse, who is about my age, looks embarrassed, blushes, and busies herself with straightening already straightened equipment and won’t even look in my direction.

Pain.

I’m sitting up again as Dr. K explains my current condition…

You’re ok, but I definitely don’t want you being catheterized. All it would take is a nurse having a bad day with a big, mean catheter and lack of care over her actions and it would catch the false passage and there would be pain and bleeding everywhere and…yeah. I don’t know why anyone would want to catheterize you, but ya never know!

He hands me an alcohol swab and leaves me to clean up and get dressed. I walk out to the desk and the receptionist looks at my charts.

OH! You don’t have to come back for a year! I bet you’re excited!

She’s used to telling me she’ll see me in a few months. I nod to show my excitement, take an antibiotic, down a shot of water, and walk out the door with a slight hobble to my step.

Love [Them]...as I Have Loved [Them]

Now who can figure out what that slightly amended quote is from? I'll give you a hint...it's from a movie.

I have a favor to ask of you all...send up a little prayer for me tomorrow morning around 9:45am. Yet again I venture into the offices of Dr. K in order to be subjected to a waking nightmare of physical violation. I'll let you all know how it goes since you guys know just about as much about that part of my anatomy as I do.

And now, to make me smile and not think about it, and to make you smile as well, watch these clips...give yourself some time, they're both about 15 minutes long, but totally worth it...also, I'd recommend hitting play, then pause, and giving them time to load a ways before playing them:

I think I'm goin back to school
Cause I'm tired of bein a fool
And I'm tired of playin it cool
I think I'm goin back to school

To begin...slightly out of context quotes from my summer school teacher:

There is one part I agree with, it is exceedingly inhospitable to gang-rape your guests.
-Lewis on misinterpretation of hospitality in the Bible

Oh man...the whole western world is convulsing over a diphthong!
-Lewis on diphthongs

They don't all hold hands and sing Kumbaya in Latin backwards
-Lewis on the occult

So yes, there's a big difference between the masons and the boyscouts
-Lewis on a differentiation we all hopefully already knew

Scientology is really Buddhism meets Star Trek
-Lewis on Tom Cruise

We have fun night too...we have egregious heresy night!
-Lewis on how he keeps his kids entertained

::
::

In other news, I finally got my grades in for my last semester and I will now post them because obviously you've all been holding you breath in unparalleled desire to know such information:

Theological Research Methodologies: A-
Philosophy of Religion: B+
History and Normative Systems of Ethics: A-

Now considering that Talbot's Grading Scale of Death has a B+ equaling a 92-93%, and an A- equaling a 94-95%, I'm ok with these grades.

::
::

And now for something completely different:

A friendly reminder from your friends at the I Didn't Get Plastered On My 21st Birthday Club

Everything Changed, Then it Changed Again...
(or)
Niceno-Constantinopolitan-Chalcedonian Orthodoxy

At this point in time, here and now, at this very moment, I, myself (not referring to anyone but me), have a considerable (and quite substantial) grasp, death-grip even, of my use, as was previously stated at least for the time being, of pleonasm.

Oh, and please forgive my nerdiness.

And my fragmented thoughts.

But here are some of them:

1. I have the coolest friends in the entire universe. No, sorry, your friends aren't as cool as mine. Don't believe me? Did your frineds do this:



Yeah...didn't think so.

2. I'm considering getting my motorcycle license this summer.

3. I'm considerably happier than I have been in a long time.

4. I'm considering re-painting my room this summer...you can help.

5. I think I need to do less considering and more doing.

6. Possibly less thinking and more doing as well.

7. Summer plans as of now:

-summer school
-family vacation
-exploration of the Brea hills
-best-friend trip to NY (or other awesome location)
-hanging out with you

---more fragmented thought to come soon.

My gosh...marketing GENIUS.

Waking up hazy with clarity boiling
Below the subconscious,
“Don’t think, are you thinking?”
A memory faultily feigning fallaciousness
Masking the past is the past is the past.
A glance or a blink or a twitch of the eye
And the air thickens, filled with intensity’s soul.
A life is a sliver of time slowed to nothing
In moments of brevity, terseness, expedience.
Slowness is toned down to flash frames of substance
Unknown, but importance is hardly just so.
Not saying no is not nothing unnecessary,
Words, though important, are crushed under night.
A reverse chronological changing of light,
“Are you thinking?”
“No, I’m just looking outside.”
A smirk softens, now just a curve on the right
As more clarity dawns upon detailed sight.
Hardly holding a breath, hardly able to breathe,
Turning hindrances into much less to believe.
Delusions are squandered and torn piece from piece,
Reconstructed as something of newness complete.
As complete as is possible, plausible, pondering:
What is now needed to fill in all needs?
“Shhhh, no more thinking…”
A pause, sounds deplete.
“I will think…
Think of how this all makes my heart beat.”

My First Black Eye



In the same vein as a Choose Your Own Adventure story, you guys will get to guess how I got my black eye and cuts!

a) I was heroically saving drowning puppies from a flooded pet store when a puppy-hater came in and tried to further the puppies immanent demise by lighting them all on fire. One would think that this was counterintuitive since they were already in water and the two elements don't really mix, but hey, who am I to tell him how to kill puppies? So we had an epic battle while swimming through the flooding pet store and there was fire and water and puppies, though I already mentioned those three items already. While rescuing the last poor little puppy the evil puppy-hater punched me in the face giving me a black eye, but then I escaped and locked him inside to drown with the bunnies and hamsters and other less-loved pets.

b) I was walking down the street when I saw a girl crossing when the No Walk sign was flashing. A speeding corvette was careening towards her and I knew she would run over if nobody saved her. I tossed my groceries in the air (because I was grocery shopping before hand and in a situation like this you don't simply set your groceries down nicely on the ground) and ran into the middle of the road. It was almost too late, but I grabbed her and jumped into the air just as the car was inches from turning us both into road kill. I planted one foot on the car and pushed off, doing a back flip while still holding the girl and landing gracefully on the ground as the car sped past. I set the girl down, bowed, and walked back to pick up my bruised avocados and other assorted damaged goods.

c) I got elbowed in the face playing basketball.

Don't Need the Sunshine



That was right after I found myself sitting in a tub filled with cold water in my boxers and right before the 17th Century Galliard Renaissance dancing.

Anyone here know how to decode Enigma coding? No? Good.

TQEWLZMMLABNBENQMLLGFEKOSKOHFMEXH
UYNGCZRDOMMRBIVSMXKLBUPCIHXXUIJFY
JRCEPIQPUOUXIBGCRGUJXLNVIRBYBACAI
UTNMTFTBLOGDLYDNOIKBTMBORITHCFMTU
AMWJ

I was just thinking...

If Cook or Die were a show, I would be an avid watcher.

I cannot know what I would be if I were not me,
I can only guess me

Thoughts strike me at odd times. Like now. Like another life I may have lived. Like this...

The first......told me she loved me. She told me she cared. She told me she cheated. She told me I didn’t love her. She told me I didn’t care. She told me she loved me. She told me it just wouldn’t work out.

The second was, well...... The one with the shark costume from the Halloween party. She told me I was funny. She told me I was interesting. She told me I was cute. She told me she couldn’t talk to me again because this wasn’t like her.

The third......told me she loved me. She told me she saw us growing old together. She told me this was new and unique and unlike her. She told me she hated me. She told me I hurt her. She told me she loved me but was not in love with me. She told me she had nothing to offer me.

The fourth......told me she had fun with me. She told me she was with someone else. She told me I was hot. She told me she felt something more. She told me I talked in circles and never made sense. She implied none of it mattered.

The fifth......told me she missed me. She told me I was a prick and an ass and was and still am full of myself. She told me she loved me. Loves me? She told me I am right for her, but I don’t think she is right for me. She told me she wanted to be with me. She told me I was not ready to be with anybody.

......is, I just found out, married. Another has never had, and still does not want, a boyfriend. Another is unattractive. Another is dating and would simply be too weird to take to the next level.

Life is just happening. Today is just a day leading into the next. The more I live in the present, the more I want to go be someone new and do something new and try something new. I want to travel to other countries by myself. I want to live in another state or country by myself. I want to start over. I want to rid myself of the desire for love and companionship as I currently view it. I want to push all my boundaries and crush all my comfort zones and destroy my present conceptions of the world and life and love and sex and girls and happiness and everything everything everything.

I’m in a city I don’t want to live in. I’m at a job that I don’t want to be at. I’m at a school that will not further my career. I’m a constant resident of change. I eat flux and drink lack of consistency for all my meals. I have no home.

The first was me being delusional and believing in true love at first sight rather than true lust. I was nice to the point of death and forgiving to the point of absurdity. I knew it was not right.

The second was me being “adventurous” and “outgoing” and stupid. It was me trying to fill a growing gap I was not even aware existed. I knew it was not right.

The third was me underestimating how weak my will was. It was me giving into emotion. It was me using another as a painkiller. I knew it was not right.

The fourth was me underestimating my ability to gain control of another’s thoughts and emotions. It was me being careless and reckless. It was me trying out not caring and not caring that I didn’t care. I knew it was not right.

The fifth was me seeing myself in another and being drawn in despite my knowledge of what it really was. It was me letting another fulfill emotion despite knowing it would not be requited. I knew it was not right.

The one I never had was seemingly perfect but obviously immature. Who I am to talk? Who I am to call another immature? She was. It was me seeing my future bright and clear before my eyes. It was me smiling to myself knowing I lucked out. It was me being content for the first time in the longest time. It was me.

I didn’t know it was not right.

Creepy or Funny?

I really can't decide:




p.s. Why have I never thought of switching my hair with each of my friends through photoshop before? Seriously!

Falling Without a 'Chute

The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side.
--Hunter S. Thompson

Mind if I ramble?

Of course not, otherwise you wouldn't ever visit this site.

You might remember when I said something like this (though this is abridged):


It amazes me how many bands show up night after night at little coffee shops, clubs, bars, backyards, school events, and anywhere there is a power outlet and pour their hearts into their music and into letting others hear what they love to do despite the fact that nobody shows up.

Everyone I talk to in an unknown band has this same problem: just getting people to hear your music.

If it's so hard, then why do they/we keep doing it?

For the love of doing it.

What's odd, though, is that even with being upset that so few people got to see [any of the bands I have been part of] I would do it all again even if I knew even less people would get to see. It's just worth it.

So I'll keep playing music nobody hears and I'll keep making movies nobody sees and I'll keep writing posts that nobody reads and I'll love every second of it because it's not about recognition or compliments or acceptance or anything other than pure love for doing it.


Well I have been kicked out of the Parachutes. No, I'm not going to go off about the myriad of complaints I have, I'm not going to badmouth anyone in the band, and I'm not going to argue about the correctness of their decision.

Let's just say it's not the happiest of subjects and rather than explain it to each and every one of my friends, I'll allude to the countless angles one could take as to why these events have taken place.

I take certain things very seriously, and being in the band was one of those things. Whether it was telling everyone I could about the band and trying to coerce everyone I knew to come to the shows with promises of hugs and dollar bills, putting countless hours into making posters and doing photo editing, listening and re-listening to songs in order to come up with better bass-lines, skipping work or school or valuable study time in order to give the few fans we had the most memorable show possible, or dreaming of the amazing future the band possibly had, I put my heart and my soul into making music with the Parachutes.

The only thing I can really compare it to is being dumped by a significant other.

I won't go into details...you want those, ask me personally.

It would be safe to say I'm a little lost in all of this.

::
::

In other news, I got some pictures back from the photo shoots with my friend Christina. Here are some of them for your viewing pleasure.









Oh yeah, I almost forgot, anyone want some Parachute paraphernalia? I have a sweaty home-made t-shirt (I couldn't wash it or the spray-paint would come off), a whole bunch of wrist-bands, stickers, posters, and hundreds of pictures and flyers. I guess I won't be needing them anymore.

Seriously, I have the best friends ever



I woke up and my first thought was "Where are my clothes?" I was wearing a girl's shirt and a bathing suit and I couldn't find my pants. All I have to say is thank God it was all caught on film.

I know, I know, 240 is a big number, but click HERE and go through them all or you will miss some unforgettable moments. To all who took part in this glorious event, thanks. Here's to friends!

p.s. Be cool and sign in and leave comments. And feel free to steal the pictures and post them everywhere.

You guys want to know what I've been doing for my Spring Break? Yeah? Do ya?

This:

(Disclaimer: I don't actually expect ANY of you to read this. Just imagine it going on for, oh, 15 pages...and this is most likely B- work)

(P.S. Disclaimer: If you actually DO read it, the "?"s that are surely showing up are actually little infinity signs)

The Problem of Probability Assignments

It is stated that there is an inverse correlation between probability and cost, and that the possibility of minute probability assigned to theism is problematic as well. Neither of these seems problematic. First one must understand correlation and inverse correlation. Correlation is the connection between two variables. Range can vary, but a range of -1 to +1 is often used. The closer the number is to -1 or +1, the stronger the variables are correlated. A positive correlation means that as one variable increases, so does the other. A reverse correlation means that as one variable increases, the other decreases. There are two ways Morris could be attempting to show reverse correlation.

The first, and less likely, is reverse correlation in each expectation formula separately. In other words, (E) (.999 X 1,000) – 0 = 999, and (E) (.001 X ?) – 1,000 = ? will both fall victim to inverse correlation. For the first (E) to be an example of inverse correlation between probability and cost, .999 rising or falling would mean -0 would need to do the exact opposite. In a game of roulette, a high probability would work well with a high cost because the house would not want to lose money. If the probability fell, the cost could fall too in order to make a more difficult win worth betting for. An inverse correlation would not make too much sense because a rising probability with a lowering cost would mean an easier big win for the one betting. With the Wager, however, a rising probability of there being a God would not mean the cost would drop; in fact that would be counter-intuitive to the original argument against the Wager.

The second, and more probable meaning for Morris, is to show an inverse correlation between betting for God and betting against God. This could obtain, depending on how one looks at it. A rising probability of God existing would not mean a lowering of the cost of atheism. The only way to make this inverse correlation work is by applying it strictly to probability. If the probability of God existing goes up, the probability of God not existing goes down. How is this problematic? Consider the game of roulette, if the probability of betting on black increases, the probability of betting on red decreases. This is not an inverse correlation between probability and cost, as Morris said, but simply an inverse between the probabilities of two opposing bets, which happens in most every situation.

The other problem Morris tries to solve is the concern about the “disparity between the probabilities of theism and atheism.” In other words, according to Morris, betting on theism if it has only a one in a trillion chance of being probable does not seem rational. Following Pascal’s own Wager, however, if the infinite payoff variable is not a problem, as has been shown, the expectation will still be infinity even if the probability is one in a trillion; and the rational gambler will bet on the higher expectation. If one could make a bet in roulette with a one in a trillion probability, but the payoff was infinite happiness (versus a higher probability, but only a finite amount of happiness), rationality points one towards betting on the higher expectation.


somebody kill me

The other day, a chance away, I chose to give up such a search.

There was this boy. He was no ordinary boy. No, not at all. If anything, no boy had ever been like him in ALL of existence. "Why," you might ask, "why was this boy so special?" To tell you that, dear reader, you will have to embark on a strange tale with me. To learn the secret of the boy, you will have to give up everything you believe, and wait till the very end. The day before the day before a thousand years ago a boy was born with half a heart, but lived despite his failing life. A day upon a day upon some 23 years of life, a boy with only half a heart would die...that's quite for sure. He grew and soon was greeted with his birthday number 23. A spark, a thought went off and something strange came to his sleeping mind. A thought, a realization still, a memory of past. He had the other half a heart, but lost the part he had. At first a fit, a perfect fit, but things just change...that's what they say. A piece of his, a piece of hers, were torn, a battlewound of sorts. He kept her part, and she kept his, vindic.tion or love unrequi.ed. So now a missing piec. was filled, but part of hi. was gone. Anothe. match, though slightly lesse., but only in one way. A piece of his was taken now and couldn't fill h.r empty space. That tin. little.lacking piece is.all o.e nee.s to find . crack. A break and crumble and m.re parts m.ssing. A pie.e .f his and piece of .ers wer..kept for .isbelief or.t.ue love los.. .h.t's one gr.at my.tery, an. no one knows. .o thro.gh a myri.d o. doubt rid.en guise a pi.ce he.e a piece the.e they.we.e sm.ll...didn't ma.ter. O.e day he g.ew .p an.d .ou.d hims.lf.on . day whe. h.s 23r. year wa. u.on him s..e w.y.. .e o.ked i. t.e mirr.r and he..aw h.lf a.hea.t. A h.ar..no..ew.a. ....ame an. .ra..s ru.n.. .h.o..h. The ....c.s a.l p.ec...h. c.l.ec.ed ..o. .he.,...iec.s al. t...., t... .o.. .... a... .. ..d ..............s.........................

Choose Your Own Adventure!

Who can guess what's really going on here?

Hey Everyone...

Go read the Parachutes FIRST INTERNET REVIEW!

In other news...I'll write more later.

I re-did my guestbook.

Go sign it.

...

Today I got three papers back.

All three pretty much said I suck at writing.

Nobody would be dissapointed if I just up and quit grad school, would they?

In other news:



EDIT: This beautiful photography comes courtasy of Christina!

Thar Be Some Changes Here

Caution: Construction



EDIT

ok ok, so after hours of fooling around (not THAT kind) I figured out most of this stuff. I still don't know why there are no numbers attached to how many comments I have. Ugh. But the rest of the site is well under way. Suggestions welcome.

Why Christina Loves Her Friends:

Another Thing the Internet Sucks At...

I found this site called My Heritage at which you can upload a picture and it's supposed to give you the celebrities that you closest resemble. I tried a variety of pictures because, like most scientific method you need more than one test case. If this was to work, I would need more than one common thread through the pictures. Here are the results. The first picture is the one I uploaded, the next ones are the celebrities the site told me I looked most like from highest percentage to lowest:

me, Natalie Portman, Jan Ulrich, Jacques Villeneuve




me, Jaco Pastorius, Guy Pearce, Rob Lowe




me, Ethan Hawke, Mark Ruffalo




me, Nick Nolte, Keira Knightly




me, Avi Nimni, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Neil Armstrong




me, Meg Ryan, Kim Basinger, George Harrison




me, Hugo Weaving, Rose McGowan, Wayne Rooney




me, Heidi Klum, Shahid Kapoor, Ethan Hawke




me, Mark Ruffalo




me, Isabella Rossellini, Julianne Moore, Leonardo DiCaprio




me, Ethan Hawke, Ian Anderson



End results: We've got Ethan Hawke 3 times, and Mark Ruffalo 2 times. I think we can conclude that this site is a piece of junk. If I looked like Ethan Hawke I would have a relentless torrent of girls after me. And I'm really not sure I WANT to look like Mark Ruffalo. If fact, the only person I have ever been mistaken for is Chad Murray:


One other disturbing trend the site tried to tell me is that my dad looks like Alfred Kinsey. Wouldn't that be crazy if he really was and just didn't tell anybody?

Alright, it's time for you guys to decide if I actually look ANYthing like ANY of these people or if I should write the site and tell them that their facial recognition system really sucks.

someone make me not lonely

Dear God......

But...nobody makes out in it!

I finally got this thing online. I went through many a trial and a few tribulations as well trying to figure out a format and compression that didn't throw the sound off from the video making it look like a badly synced Japanese godzilla film.

So for all you out there who have yet to see this, or who need a re-fresher, enjoy:

(technical disclaimer: sorry, it's still pretty bad quality)





...also...remember the story of me proposing over a picture message? I finally got ahold of the picture:

These Lines Work...trust me

--You mean SO much to me. If I had a thousand years to try to describe how much I love you, I still wouldn't even come close. So thank you. I love you so much. I owe you everything.

--I love you more than words could ever say and actions could ever express. I am constantly looking for ways to tell you.

--I never knew it was possible for somebody to be so perfect, without actually being perfect.

--I'm not perfect and you're not perfect, WE are perfect. I've never felt so much love for another person and I don't think I could feel more if I tried.

Normative System of Ethics

Alright, enough waiting, I'll give you a quick rundown of...well...my view. Like I said, there are many out there. And no, I don't mean this is my view and my view alone...it's a pretty common one.

The key word here is intention. What did you intend to do? Aro, I was REALLY impressed with your logical train of thought. That's almost exactly how most people go through it but they don't take it as far as you did. The point is that someone has to die either way. If you switch the track, 1 dies. If you don't switch the track, 5 die. But not switched the track does not remove you from the situation. Not acting is itself acting. If a baseball if flying at my head and I choose not to duck...I am choosing to get hit in the head. So lack of action gets you nowhere.

If you switch the track to kill the 1, you are saving the 5, but you are not intending to kill the 1. It is an unfortunate course of events that you have no control over. In a case like this, though it sounds cold, it actually becomes just numbers. Don't confuse this with utilitarianism...it is anything but.

As another example (everyone is surely groaning) that you don't have to respond to if you don't want, but it makes the whole thing a lot clearer, here is Room 306:

You are a doctor and you have 5 patients who are all dying due to massive failure of major organs. Each one has a different organ failing. They will all die by the end of the week unless they get a transplant, and they are all so far down the transplant list that there is no hope. Nothing else can save them...not life support, not black market organs, nothing. Jim walks in to get a routine checkup and he is completely healthy. You realize, though, that if you were to drug Jim and take his organs, you could save all 5 of your patients lives. Jim would die, obviously, since he would be lacking such necessities as a heart and lungs. You know that you can do this and get away with it and nobody would know.

What do you do? Take Jim's organs and save the 5, or not take his organs and let the 5 die?

For our advanced readers, let's throw in this twist...Jim is a homeless drug addict. His addiction hasn't ruined any of his organs, but he is hopelessly destined to walk the streets with no family, no friends, no money, no chance of a job, and in perpetual anguish.

GO!