Noah has mad skills: his birthday party today featured pirates and a half dozen girls.

I dressed like a pirate for a while, before the costume got too hot.

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I think that you know what time it is

Zach made Mario, and I photographed Mario for Zach:

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Jamba Crack Cocaine

This morning I checked my “mailbox” at “work” and found that my boss’s boss’s boss had signed off on my “Regent’s Scholarship.” More importantly, there was a coupon for a free Jamba Juice. I already knew that their smoothies were some sort of blender candy, but their “Chocolate Moo’d” smoothie tastes exactly like Reese’s Pieces. I think that I am going to “die.”


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I finally met my next door neighbor, Hailey, who is stealing — I mean borrowing my wifi connection. There’s nothing like meeting new people while drenched in sweat. Speaking of new people, I stopped by the One on One Bicycle Studio to ask about fender painting for John and bike upgrades for me — not that I can afford them, but a boy can dream…

Also, I think that I might have met Roger Lootine. I was a little shaky from the heat (and trying to outrun a truck after finding myself in the wrong lane… result: not dead) so I didn’t introduce myself, even though he thought I was “Pete.” He may also have been picking up a lady, which is the best possible imagining I could have. I hope he did well.

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Do Androids Dream of Electric Balls?

One of my coworkers strolled into the web office this morning to make a loud proclamation.

“I had the weirdest dream about you last night!”

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At the end of the day today I felt a bit off: panicky for no reason I could figure out. Somehow the VIC-20 bleeps I had found on youtube were breaking my heart. My mom called and asked if I still needed an air conditioner. By the time I got home I was nauseated. My apartment was seven degrees cooler than the outdoors, but walking in the door felt like stepping into a canvas bag — perhaps the bag that I woke up in two days ago. It had taken over two hours to claw my way to wakefulness.

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How to Have a Successful Garage Sale

Step One: Put all of the stuff that you would consider selling into a dumpster
Bonus Step: Light the dumpster on fire

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How Much Ice Cream Is Too Much?

It was Donald’s birthday today, and somehow I managed to secure an invite to his small gathering despite being in general being quite juvenile. His notion was to hand crank some strawberry ice cream. You may be aware of my slight intolerance for lactose. I can eat cheese and yogurt, but I have to watch my consumption of raw milk and ice cream. That’s okay with me because I don’t have the same ice cream cravings as the usual joe (unless it’s the Haagen Dazs “Mayan Chocolate” which is made from the lightly roasted souls of children and makes baby Jesus cry when you put it in your mouth oh dear lord I want some right now). Upon completion of the cranking we sampled the ice cream and it was so good that I ate more than I intended.

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f start

This picture has nothing to do with the rest of the post, but “Battle Center” is an awesome name for a business. Unfortunately it is a church, which is not as fun as some sort of real life Pokemans challenge.

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Sonofa Grand Old Day

My coworker Trent strolled into the office today looking for me.

“Hey, where’d you go yesterday? I was looking for you so I could get you on stage to take pictures.”

So, uh, I missed out on getting on stage with Tapes N Tapes (at the edge, anyway) because I took two steps back to get out of the way of drunk people. Oh well.

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