A week or so ago Sarah was gone to North Dakota for a week, which meant a 600% increase in bachelordom for me. I fully intended to spend the week in my underpants wearing a bacon hat, drinking beers nonstop and watching hours and hours of uninterrupted Bruce Lee movies. I considered myself a B Sandwich — you know, like a BLT, only without the lettuce or tomato. Meat is just a long term food storage mechanism. Just like beer. Beer is food. I am “eating” right now.
rubixsqube: I am currently calculating the angular size distance of an object at redshift z = 1,089 that holds 2*10^15 solar masses
I’m so gonna marry that guy.
Sarah keeps calling it a “studio crawl,” but somehow that doesn’t conjure up the pomp and circumstance of live bands and other ridiculousness that happens in Northeast. There was much bicycle.
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You sum and go, you sum and — wait a minute. What the crap am I singing? The past two days I have been waking up with what I can only describe as a low grade hangover and desire to go back to sleep for additional hours. The thing is that I have been going to bed reasonably early and not drinking. Right now I want to curl up under my desk and just sort of dissolve into the carpet.
I have been working hard on my “game” for class all day. I’m up to like three pots of coffee so far.
Perhaps I shouldn’t drink and code, but, you know, shit happens when you’ve got a major assignment due in 24 hours, with 8 hours of work, 8 hours of sleep, and… wait. That leaves 8 hours to code, eat, and go to that Andrew Bird concert.
Lately I’ve been thinking that I need a relaxed boulevard cruiser with panniers big enough to transport a case of beer*. Lo and behold, someone left their brown cruiser unlocked in front of my building for an entire day.
This weekend I sent Zach a link to an NYC zombie pub crawl and a zombie last supper, but not this zombie game, because I didn’t find it until this morning on Justin’s blog. Yes, I got up early to work on my Hitchcock final. Yes, I took half an hour to kill zombies. At least I beat it the first time. The key is to shoot for the head — except for the zombie army guys: take out their legs with the Barrett and you’ll be fine.
The other day I was walking through the hallowed halls of Coffman Memorial Union, and I came across a poster stuck to the wall.
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