Finally I Find a Garage Sale That Isn’t Just Full of Old People Clothes and Other Old People Crap

It seems like my friends are always finding amazing things for a quarter at yard sales — like studio quality headphones, musical instruments, or helper monkeys. Whenever I go to yard sales it’s always just racks of baby clothes from 1972 and broken kitchen appliances. Enough of that!

Sometime this weekend I went to a garage sale that was chock full of comics and toys. I got the Iron Giant, some grab bags of comics, and Fry from Futurama. Hooray for me!

Also, Lisa put googly eyes on my beer stein. I think that it improves the experience.

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Fun with the personals

You may or may not be aware that I’ve got a lure dangling in the water on a personals site or two. Yes, I had some success this spring (well, success in injecting my life with glorious complications), but towards the end of the summer I reeled in my line and took a nap in the dating boat. I had travel and stuff. Really. Anyway, despite being crunched for time during the week, my weekends are reasonably open and I need to find people who are neither male computer nerds nor giggly freshman girls to hang out with and do things like:

  • see shows
  • go to the fucking museums
  • eat delicious food
  • see movies and films
  • ride around the city on a fucking bicycle built for two
  • drink the world’s beers and wake up in a cellar somewhere

How is that so hard? You’d think that a smart, funny, charming, bitter, sarcastic bastard like me would be swimming in a pool full of ladies. Literally full. No water, just the ladies. Imagine me as Scrooge McDuck, and you’re on board the awesome train.

That reminds me of what I told Zach that I was doing on Halloween:

I’ll tell you what I’m not doing. I’m not going to wake up in a field the day after missing a kidney again — not three years in a row! Fool me once, shame on… shame on you, fool me — can’t get fooled again.

Uh, you only have two kidneys to start with.

Shit. I’d better get me on some dialysis.

Here’s something that I’m not putting in my ad, but maybe I should, because it would weed out people who wouldn’t think that I’m funny.

The first thing(s) people usually notice about me:
People tend to notice the blood on my hands and clothes. Sure, I try to play it off as a ketchup making accident, but eventually they figure out that it is murder most foul, and then I have to start the cycle of killing again with a new witness. It’s really getting kind of tiresome.

Note to self: get some sleep, dude, you are all over the place today.

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Dear Linear Algebra and Differential Equations Class That I Hate

I think that you can tell where this letter is going, so I don’t need to write the rest of it.

(no partial credit on the multiple choice problems or that other one where I made a mistake in my differentiation means that I got a very bad score on the first mid-term)

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(612) 626-ROCK

Yesterday when I should have been working on homework I went to see Pretty Persuasion and have tapas sabrosas! Solera was fucking delicious!

When I got home I spent the entire night twiddling bits. No, I don’t mean the five knuckle shuffle, I mean applying bitmasks and cursing bitwise operations left and right. Somewhere around the time that Stan got up I went downstairs to pee.

“Hey, Jesse, why are you up so early?”
“I’m still up.”
“Oh, maybe going to the movie last night wasn’t such a good idea.”

Possibly, although the movie and food consumed like three and a half hours and the homework took… nine. Nine grueling hours of C. However, I did learn useful skills, like how to count the bits in an integer without using loops. What am I saying? That will never be useful.

I bought a couple of watts in the powersurge. So did Zach. Two of my four favorite DJs were on the air (and King Kwong is on the air now, which makes three out of four). David Hill from the Whole downstairs was on the air, so it was like a big party full of awesomeness and joy. We totally blew up their goals for their shift, so rock on, K. Rock on with your bad self.

If you want to play a game along with your Radio K listening experience, you could try out DJ Bingo. If you have ever been involved with college radio (or just listened to it) you might enjoy the experience. It was inspired by the Strong Bad radio bit. If I ever take a day off of work to… uh… drink, I will listen to Radio K and use the DJ Bingo game, although such activities are actually absolutely contraindicated on the page.

I may have purchased a new walking around lens for my good camera. Ahem.

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Come on, ride the train, hey, ride it, woo woo

Zach said:

Time for me to board that train

I asked:

The booze train?

Zach replied:

Woo woo!

And that about sums up the night. I kind of wanted to go to see John Vanderslice at the entry, but I’m just too fucking tired from a week full of homework, midterms, and apparently making a minor ass out of myself on

you must let up on the come ons, please you are killing me. Just act like a normal person

I wasn’t so much hitting on her as acting like I was hitting on her for our mutual amusement, but I can understand the confusion. My personal rule is that if someone doesn’t get a joke, it’s my fault, not theirs.

At least she understands that I am not a normal person, just an abnormal person occasionally acting like a normal person.

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How Was the Bike Ride?

Riding keeps you warm, except for certain parts: any pasty white flesh that gets exposed to the wind and your nuts, which, upon a two degree drop in temperature, will retract back into your body. I thought that I was having an asthma attack until I got inside and felt my nuts drop back out of my throat. As my claws melted I regretted not grabbing any of my ten pairs of gloves. I’m not sure how I’m going to solve the hat issue - maybe I will try a bandana or putting tape over the holes in my helmet. I just don’t want to be bandana guy. He’s not me. Really.

I did not fix my walkin’ around camera. I am sorely tempted to buy a brand new camera. I’ve got the shakes from camera withdrawl.

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You Have a Foosball Table?

Honestly, I would do a lot for unfettered access to a foosball table. I love foosball and I need to practice my snake shot. Mind you, I’m not like the semi-pro players at Mortimers with their rosin bags and special wrap for the foosball handles, but I used to be pretty good. I coulda been a contender.

Anyway, I went to Sally’s with Paul and Victoria from work tonight. Victoria is one of the designers and let slip that there is a foosball table at her house. I am smitten!

I’ve said too much! I blame the Summit Oktoberfest, which was delicious.

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Sliced Bread - web 2.0 javascript

Zach has been having a series of orgasms on the other side of our shared desk, so I guess that is the amazingest of amazing. I’m not having the same response that Zach is, but then I haven’t been playing with it all day for two days like he has.

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Maybe I should get more sleep

So you may have read my post about needing a wingman, in which I referred to needing a professional. If not, here’s a refresher:

So I’m going out tonight and I need a wingman. My boss (Zabe 1) suggested that I hire a professional, and that the professional should be female, since that is all the rage. Unfortunately, there is only one professional wingperson in the Twin Cities metro area (that I could find in thirty seconds of googling), and since she is cute I’d probably just spend the whole time checking her out.

All well and good, the post was longer than that, but you get the idea. Anyway, I linked to this lady: in that post, and she found her way to my site. She left this message:

I strongly support this.

Which, honestly, is confusing as hell. Seriously, what the fuck? I left a comment on my own blog and then eventually emailed it to her as well, because what was the likelihood that she would come back to check?

Wait, which do you support — me hiring you and spending the whole time checking you out, my friend Lisa embarrassing me, or me shaving on Gerg’s benefit?

That makes a lot more sense if you read the previous post in its entirety. It’s okay if you didn’t.

She said:


Thanks for writing.

Hey, if you want to pay $25.00/hour to check me out, I won’t stop you. You’d also have the option of paying me $25.00/hour to wingman for you.

Question: Do you think that women will eventually become both suspicious and aware of the wingman concept after they experience it in the bar a few times?

Okay, now this is where I ask you: funny or crazy?

I said:

A friend of mine (who theoretically volunteered to wing for free) told me that I should just spend $25 an hour buying women drinks.

As to whether or not women will become suspicious and aware, I say “yes” — once the concept is featured on a television show. If Sex and the City were still in production I would expect it to have a show or a minor story arc revolving around a guy who maybe seems to have his life a little bit too much together. Who is that female friend who always seems to be hanging around? Ultimately, things would fall apart not because this guy hired an assistant (since having that kind of money would have its own kind of appeal) but because he lied about her role in his life and he wasn’t the sort of person who couldn’t maintain a friendship with a woman on his own.

After that, the whole wingman/girl Friday thing would be played out until Kate Hudson dyes her hair black and plays you in a romantic comedy. In a plot loosely borrowed from Hatch (and I’m only guessing here because I didn’t see that movie) she helps a series of men become increasingly perfect for other women before helping the one man she always loved land some random woman. Hmm. This might be better ripping off Cyrano directly, but I don’t know how they would work in the sword fighting. I don’t think that Kate Hudson’s character could die at the end after being hit by a log pushed from a window, either — that would never make it past the focus groups.

I’m not seriously considering hiring a wingman — I was just posting about it to play up my singleness for the amusement of my friends. Hmm. Maybe I could put the professional wingman service in my five year plan to get a date.

Okay, never mind, I’ve got to get going on some painful homework.

I hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep. I sure hope it was funny, because I’m tired of being crazy. Seeming crazy. You know what I mean. Well, off to enjoy my meds. I mean, uh, Lost. I’m gonna watch Lost.

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I Hope You Like Dashboard Confessional


There is a rumor that Dashboard Confessional will be playing Northrup some time in the future, so I helped the designers come up with ideas. The Visine was Zach’s idea, the broken glasses and jailhouse tattoos were mine.

Hey, maybe I should get a tattoo like that for my first tattoo.

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