Last year I managed to score a 75% on my Simpsons’ Trivia Calendar. I vowed to improve upon my score by watching more TV. I’m glad to report that I failed to watch more TV, but disappointed that my score dropped to a 68.7%.
I feel that this year’s calendar was more difficult, and it seems to have more questions. I managed 207 right, 94 wrong. In order to save face, I’ll make no promises about next year.
I cordially invite you to read our christmas card, if you’re so inclined.
There’s always the option to opt out if you’re swamped with yule tidings.
Taking a cue from Alan, I took the Not all Americans are Stupid quiz. Though its really just a game for trivia junkies like me, its eerie how accurate a picture it paints:
“You have an impressive understanding of the world for an American. It is likely that you feel intellectually isolated in your home country, and often have to hide your opinions from others. Deep down, you realise that your country is the single biggest threat to world peace in modern times, but you have not yet summoned up the courage to emigrate.”
One underage driver asks another to go warm up her car. Young girl #2 goes to the friends car, starts it, decides its a good time to “try driving.” Young Girl #2 becomes underage driver #2, but only for a short time before becoming uninsured car wrecking hooligan. Uninsured car wrecking hooligan collides with employee eating lunch in her car, and tries to drive away. Uninsured car wrecking hooligan hits another car, then another. Employee eating lunch eventually stops uninsured car wrecking hooligan from driving away, but not until 5 cars have been damaged.
Pissed off younger sister finds that her car is sandwiched between two other cars, and her bumper is barely hanging on. You see, uninsured car wrecking hooligan hit one car with such force that it pushed into pissed off younger sister’s car, then into car on the other side of pissed off younger sister’s car. Uninsured car wrecking hooligan hopefully learns valuable lesson and is never allowed on anything with wheels again, and pissed off younger sister hopes that the state required her to insure against uninsured motorists along with her liability coverage. Pissed off younger sister may not get to come down to tall dark and handsome brother and law school riddled brained sister-in-law’s for thanksgiving.
Really though, who hits 4 more cars trying to flee the scene?
Thirty minutes after posting about the rain, quarter-sized flakes of snow started falling. Amazingly, the snow started accumulating on the ground. Less than four hours later, my place of employment announced it would be closing. Snow Day!
With the strong winds, days upon days of rainfall, and leaves clogging the storm drains, it’s safe to say that time of year is here again. There’s no visual signal that its time to get up, and walking the dog means getting soaked and cold.
This doesn’t seem to bother Barley though. In fact, I’m pretty sure he was enjoying the giant puddles, piles of leaves, and trenches full of water. I’ve just dried him off after walking him. The towel is soaked, and so is he. It wasn’t so much a walk as me being pulled by a maniacal water fiend. He pulls as hard as he can to run up and down any small collection of water, be it puddle, stream, or lake.
Its been a long time since I’ve had a peanut butter and Jelly sandwich. If it hadn’t been for the somewhat dry wheat bread, it could have been great. Oh, and Adam’s Peanut Butter? Are you supposed to stir that pool of goo on top back into the butter, or do you drain it off?
I don’t usually use the breakroom at work because I usually don’t need to heat up anything. Since the recent retirement of one employee, there’s never any new magazines or newspapers in the break room. All that was available today was a copy of the Portland Mercury. Great, a magazine full of fun things to do and places to go that are all on the “cool” side of the river.
One advertisment caught my eye though. It was for a shop that does hoodie sweatshirts with your neighborhood’s name emblazened on the front. Once again, Great, I live in a neighborhood that lacks a name. What are they going to put on the sweatshrit? Southwest? That’s like a gigantic combination of lots of neighborhoods with mostly lame names. Still, my interest was piqued so I checked it out, and yes, the neighborhood of choice is “Southwest.” Well, at least its not “Indian Subcontinent”… no, seriously, that’s an option for a neighborhood of Bombay (Mumbai).
Its Halloween time again, which means another trip back to Bellingham to grasp for that fleeting feeling of being in college again. Its also a chance to enjoy some of my favorite local offerings: Archer Ale house, Mt. Biking on Galbraith, Misc food (somewhat difficult to pick a place), and drinking beer and misbehaving.
This year I’m going to go as “Eased travel restrictions to Cuba”, which is a current event. I’m afraid it will be entirely lost, but I’ve got a thing for dressing up as Castro. I dressed up as him back in high school, and was pleased at the quality of my costume. This time I have my own beard, but worry that people may not realize who I am. What does my costume choice say about me? I’m not sure, but it probably says something about the absurdity of the embargo and the infantile viewpoint of the powers that be.
I work earlier on Fridays and usually set my alarm clock to wake me. I forgot to set it. This morning I awoke to the strangest electronic clicking. It was about 15 minutes after when I should have gotten up, but the darkness and comfort of the bed had tricked me into thinking it was earlier.
The clicking noise was coming from my old digital clock. I received this digital radio/alarm clock when I was 7, and have been using it since. I remember very little pop music from my childhood, but much of what I remember I heard on this clock (Cyndi Lauper, Huey Lewis). The radio/alarm function quit working years ago, but some phantom in the clock decided to wake me this morning. Thanks.