All this week I've been gearing up for the much anticipated Leap Weekend.
Tomorrow, I'll be heading up to Seattle for dinner and a concert. This is my extended christmas present from Lin: she's taking me to see the original chamber orchestration of Copeland's Appalachian Spring. I can't describe to you how awesome that is.
In continuation, Saturday features the local appearance of Brian Michael Bendis. He's the featured writer for Marvel Comics right now (as well as doing some work for Image), and he's done some incredible (incredible!) work with Daredevil, Spiderman, and even the Fantastic Four. He'll be doing a signing at my local shop, and this whole week I've been furiously getting my four-foot replica of Ultimate Spiderman, Issue 50 ready. My two and a half foot long Sharpie is finished now, and the only piece left for Saturday is the cover of the book. The whole ordeal makes me want to wet myself both of fear and excitment.
Also, it has come to my attention that the name Michael is among the cannon of names that everyone should know how to spell. I didn't even realize there was a more common spelling of it (between Michael and Micheal). This rose, of course, during the discussion that ensued when Alec misspelled his own name on a few college applications. Oh Alec . . .
On Sunday, my brother announced that he'd finally gotten sick of the growing shag on top of his head, so he had his friend, Buddy, trim it into a mullet. When he told me over the phone, he urgently stressed that I needed to see it before Tuesday, since he'd be calling Mer to have it chopped all-together. Jokingly, I told him that Mer wouldn't be in for another few weeks, at which point he panicked a bit, but then calmed when he realized I was only kidding.
Yesterday, my dad left a message on the machine at my house which was abruptly followed by a maniacle laugh and disconnection: "Hey Andy, just wanted to let you know that Mer is on vacation all this week!"
The internet in my house is out of commission again. I have no idea why it does this randomly, but we'll get these spells where it's intermitent service for a couple of days. This time it's especially bad and I think I'll be giving them a call sometime today.
Yesterday, Lindsey cut a good 15 inches off her hair. It was pretty much down to the small of her back, and now it's about chin length. It looks incredibly awesome. She's really got great hair all around, and a great face for the new look. Jared's special lady, Kristen, made it out to support Lin and took some digital before-and-after shots that I'll post here as soon as I get them. The changeover was pretty wild.
Also new in my life is the Parkway Tavern. While it's a bit of a ways off campus, it certainly has better food and cheaper beer than Engine House 9, and the service isn't quite as frustrating (so far). In fact, the only beer they have on tap that's not locally brewed is Labatt's Blue. And even though I've only been twice, it's already found a place in my heart.
My 3-D art class with Jack has a few characters of note. For example, there is the freshman girl who talks to herself while she works on her art. Then there's the self-proclaimed 'sort-of physics' major who occasionally chews. But strangest of all is this Alumni who's auditing the class. This is his story.
On the first day, he shows up an hour-and-a-half late and interrupts only long enough to ask about auditing and get a signature before running off again for another hour (the whole class being three hours long).
On the second day, he shows up an hour-and-a-half late with his sketches for our first project. Now, this project entailed sculpting plaster blocks into rough 'forms', but nothing actually real or detailed. His favorite sketch? The smiling falice.
Now, seriously. Not as in 'like' or 'sort-of', this was a true blue penis, complete with scrotum, hair, and a smiley face etched at the tip.
Here's something how the conversation with our prof, Mike, went:
Falice Guy: "Now, here's my favorite idea [pointing to sketch of penis]. I just really think it's got some great irony to it. It's so rough, yet . . . so cute at the same time."
Mike: "Ok [Awkward Pause]. Let's see what else you got."
It's not like this was the only time he's refferrenced the word falice in class either. I'd say it's a daily occurence, if not more often.
The kicker today came when he was commenting on the gigantic athletic cup that the 'physics type stuff' guy is making. He says to the guy, "I didn't realize you were making a functional piece." Then turns to his neighbor and is like, "Get it? Functional piece!"
The scariest part is that he works at some sort of elementary school in town. Jack and I were contemplating calling the school district about him.
Yesterday, I managed to celebrate Presidents Day the way Abe Lincoln would have: snowboarding. It was damn good, but now I'm damn sore.
Recently, while discussing career options with Lindsey, she told me a story of this guy she heard of. Supposedly he's a friend of Laura Hannah's or something. Anyway, he's a hardcore rock-climber, and some time after graduating he found himself faced with the challenge of earning enough money to sustain his hobby while still having time to climb. His solution? Become a stripper.
Now he only works a few hours a day a few times a week and gets paid up the wazzoo with plenty of time left over to find good rocks. Pun most definately intended.
Why did Lindsey tell me this? Goodness knows.
This was when Johnny piped in with his success story of an impressively intelligent, thin-chested girl who works at Hooters and earns over 20 grand a year in tips alone. He said she pretends like it's an acting job.
Oh, the options that await us . . .
On Friday morning Sam related to me this story of his sailing trip to Cuba last month:
The plan upon reaching Key West by car was to board his friend's boat with a total of six others and head for Mexico. There, they were to pick up Cuban Visas with the intent of bringing medical aid (Tylenol) to Cuba instead of paying for the Visas with American money - thereby making their trip semi-legal (you can go to Cuba, I guess, so long as it's a humanitarian thing and you don't spend any American money the whole time).
Now, as is often true with Sam, I find that his intent and his follow-through can be two totally different things. See, unfortunately after only a few hours out the Keys, Sam starts getting really sick. Sick to the point where the others are getting a little worried.
Quickly, they decide that the best option is to head strait to Cuba, which they can reach in merely 14 hours, rather than sail across the Gulf. With the added medical excuse of having a stricken boatmate, they're confident that customs will let them through to Havanna where they can hopefully get Sam treated by a Cuban doctor.
See, here's where things take a real twist.
About two hours out from Cuba, Sam miraculously feels better. At this point, with no other recourse Sam is faced with the task of faking his illness in the hopes that Cuban customs buys the story.
This is where Sam tells me 'And Andy man, let me tell you, I made a good show of it.'
So good, I gather, that customs sent him strait to the local hospital, where without any further discussion, he was subjected to a shot of Dramamine in the rear and sent on his way.
Oh Sam. 'I mean, I literally took one in the ass for the team,' he says.
After two exhausting hours, my site has been transformed into what you now see it.
Now to find my bed . . .
In my art class today we started our second project: taking something hand-sized and replicating it to at least three times the size. Soon, I'll have a four-foot tall copy of Ultimate Spiderman #50 along with an equally scaled Sharpie for Brian Michael Bendis to sign it with. I don't think words can describe the level of excitment I'm feeling right now.
Also exciting: 1) There was peach cobbler at the sub tonight and it was very surprisingly excellent. 2) Plans are in the works to bring DDR to the big party here this Friday. I smell a revolution . . .
Here they are:
I'm going to post these on the side-bar permanently too.
Upon further review, I've determined that Jack's website is definately worth a read. He's got some good poetry, as well as a few stories up that you should all take some time to look at.
Also, I've stumbled across the Snoop Dogg Shizzolator. Especially funny is using this on Shane and Eric's sites. If I can figure out how to post a link directly for that, I will.
Yesterday morning I went with my dad to the local caucus to cast my vote. I've always known that my neighborhood was primarily senior citizens, but it was funny to see that my dad and I were almost the youngest voters present. As far as the breakdown, there were only a few of us (youngins) who voted for Dean, but we were greatly outnumbered by the Kerry side.
Truly though, Kerry seems to be drawing the conservative, dare I say, old-republican voters who don't want to see Bush in office again (I do dare!). The way all the seniors were talking during our debate, it sounded like they were afraid of Dean's strong voice against Bush, and what that will do to turn away potential voters come November. Meanwhile, us youth for Dean were worried that Kerry isn't going to be a strong enough force for change.
I wiser man once told me "If you're young and you're not liberal, then you don't have a heart, but if you're old and you're not conservative, then you haven't learned anything."
I don't know if I necessarily believe that, but he threw it out there and it seems to fit in this situation. I wonder how it went for other communities.
Sung: It's Friday. Yeah, it's Friday.
Plans for the weekend: . . .
. . .
Homework.
Drink.
Music.
. . .
Sleep.
Today in 3-D Art, we got the chance to see some slides from this Japanese artist, Munuro, that's here at school working on a piece. It was wild having him explain his personal history as an artist while he showed us his art in more-or-less chronological order. He arrived to L.A. from Mexico, where he'd been sculpting for a few years, with not enough money to get home to Japan. His first work of art state-side was a single canvas with some brushes of black paint and sticks he'd found on the street. That was twenty-eight years ago.
Now, he builds these massive wooden forms from old scrap wood he gets from furniture shops and construction sites. Meanwhile, he's managed to build up a studio for himself in L.A., as well as one in Japan.
Wild.
I think my body has one of the strangest stomachs I've ever known. For the past few weeks, I've been eating at least three meals a day (that's a lot for me, and I notice it when I cinch my belt up). But just today, I survived with a single meal in the mid-afternoon. And it's not like I felt I was starving myself; my stomach wasn't turning in knots or anything, and it's not now either. Do most people eat meals at irregular times, or is it just me?
Anyway, I've started paying more attention to The Onion's info-graphics. Here's this week's.
Out of nowhere today the 'presumed drowned or eaten' Bernard responded to my reference to him and fatcakes. For those of you who want a good fatcake recepie, definately give it a look. It's also an excellent look at the inner workings of an African mind: scattered and confused.
Speaking of fatcakes, The Onion has this humorously appropriate graphic to offer on the Atkins Diet.
Last night, Lindsey and I went to the Paris Soiree at the Art Museum. It was pretty sweet - like we were part of the pedigree of Tacoma. We both bartended for the first few hours, and then were free to mingle for the rest of the night.
In a surprise turn of events, Peter showed up to volunteer also. Turns out he knows a friend of a girl who works with me there. What was funny was that the night before, when Lin and I got dessert with him, no-one mentioned that they'd be at the Soiree the following night. Even funnier? Peter had no idea I even worked at the museum in the first place.
I would also like to point out that Jack's link down the side has changed as it appears Bjork left his site long ago (the old link read 'Beatnik Jack and Bjork'). In addition, I have it on good authority that Jack updates his site regularly, contrary to popular belief.