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update: 3.02.03

Last night I was watching 2001 and quite enjoying the experience when my mother hollered for me to come upstairs.

Well whaddya know, we had another nocturnal visitor. This time a raccoon was wandering around the porch, having already devoured the cat food we keep out for the strays. I grabbed the camera and quietly tiptoed out the front door, while it stared at me. Unfortunately, the little guy wasn't as brazen as last week's visitor and hurried off before I could get a picture. Drat.

In the meantime, if you haven't seen 2001 (and who hasn't except for me?) I highly recommend it. I began watching the film once with Katie many years ago and was bored silly. We stopped the tape about forty-five minutes into the film. However, I was slack-jawed and mesmerized this time around. Thanks to both Joe and the Genius for suggesting I watch it again. At last, a picture I would actually like to see on the big screen.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.03.03

I'm feeling like a politically-outraged college student at the moment, so I thought I'd post an excerpt from a Polly LaBarre article in Fast Company magazine:

"One of the more shocking measures of our 'prosperity' is the fact that the United States spends more on trash bags than 90 other countries spend on everything. In other words, the receptacles of our waste cost more than all of the goods consumed by nearly half of the world's nations."

And while I'm all righteous I ought to get around to addressing a problem I've seen quite often around the Big L since moving there. Some people in the community seem to have no respect for handicapped parking spaces at all. The three spaces available for disabled people in the shopping center lot are routinely used by people just "popping into Wal*Mart" or the Chinese restaurant. And by routinely, I mean one person pulls out and another pulls in. Worse, the police regularly patrol the lot but cruise by illegally-parked vehicles without pause.

I think I might write a letter to the editor of that local rag and point out the problem. But first I would research the law itself, reviewing the policies on handicapped parking and the fines for violating them. Afterwards, it might be a good idea to hang out in Subway for a little while one busy night. That would give me a rough idea of how many people abuse the spaces and also how many times officers pass by without writing tickets or at least ordering them to move.

Or is all this too much? I realize that this is a small town and there aren't herds of wheelchair-bound or otherwise-impaired citizens fighting for parking spaces but, regardless, it's still wrong. I rage whenever I see slovenly hillbillies sitting in duct-taped jalopies right up front while elderly women on walkers brave roaring dualies as they slowly make their way across the parking lot. So whaddya think? Should I do something altruistic?

.::Rob::.

update: 3.04.03

There is a Lebanese boy in my P&C classes who is not only cute, but also in possession of a endearing, flirtatious personality. He jokes and laughs and smiles and is reserving a place within my glacial heart. Of course I rise to the occasion and carry on with him, but I have more of an edge...

A Mating Dance Between Physics Students

(Robert is frantically typing an email to Taj, complaining about Big Red and his crew and their Star Trek fixation when the gangly Lebanese boy sits down beside him and interrupts.)

The Lebanese Boy:
Can I ask you a question about the lab?
Rob:
Huff. Puff. (Eyes rolling) What the hell do you want?
The Lebanese Boy:
Are my calculations supposed to be in centimeters or meters?
Rob:
Dumbass! The meter is the standard unit!
The Lebanese Boy:
Is it?
Rob:
You're so God-damned stupid! If you would come to class more often and pay attention maybe you wouldn't be having these troubles.
The Lebanese Boy:
Can I see your work?

(Rob flings the lab across the table, clipping the Lebanese Boy in the retina.)

Rob:
Just copy from my lab and don't bother me again!
The Lebanese Boy:
You're kinda bitchy, you know?
Rob:
Ya think?

But the email to Taj tells a different story: "Oooh, he is hot! And he's obviously madly in love with me. I don't know how I continue to inspire such passions in these fellows but it seems to be a gift." (Meanwhile, I was in front of the mirror this morning complaining "God I look like hell!")

The Lebanese Boy:
Let me ask you another question.
Rob:
Oh my God, what have I done to deserve this?!
The Lebanese Boy:
If I wanted to know how long it would take the projectile to go four meters at a constant acceleration...
Rob:
...you would have come to class last Monday for the constant acceleration lecture.
The Lebanese Boy:
We can't all be overachieving pains in the ass.
Rob:
Why not?

(Dramatic pause)

The Lebanese Boy:
I'm going to get something to eat, you wanna come?
Rob:
Of course I do, fool. Let me gather my things...

(As they are leaving, Rob notices a handbag sitting on the desk.)

Rob:
You left your purse on the table.
The Lebanese Boy
Uh, no, that must be yours.
Rob:
Punk.

And off we go for an Italian sub and a bag of chips.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.05.03

From Conrad Phillip Kottak's Anthropology: The Exploration of Human Diversity:

"One of the most extreme examples of male-female sexual antagonism in Papua New Guinea comes from the Etoro (Kelly 1976), a group of 400 people who subsist by hunting and horticulture in the Trans-Fly region.

"Although coitus is discouraged, homosexual acts are viewed as essential. Etoro believe that boys cannot produce semen on their own. To grow into men and eventually give life force to their children, boys must acquire semen orally from older men. From the age of 10 until adulthood, boys are inseminated by older men. No taboos are attached to this. Homosexual activity can go on in the sleeping area or garden. Every three years, a group of boys around the age of 20 are formally initiated into manhood. They go to a secluded mountain lodge, where they are visited and inseminated by several older men."

Sounds like a bathhouse to me, but I digress...

"Etoro homosexuality is governed by a code of propriety. Although homosexual relations between older and younger males are culturally essential, those between boys of the same age are discouraged. A boy who gets semen from other youths is believed to be sapping their life force and stunting their growth. When a boy develops very rapidly, this suggests that he is ingesting semen from other boys. Like a sex-hungry wife, he is shunned as a witch."

Desperate old queens, can't even share...

.::Rob::.

update: 3.06.03

A few weeks ago I had a really good day. Yesterday was just the opposite.

After being missing in action for four days, the Genius finally showed up in class, looking torn up and ragged. What's the problem, I ask. Nothing. Fine, let's get started on the lab. As we worked on it, he mentioned that he had dropped Physics.

"You're kidding! Why did you do that?" He offered a long, involved and unsatisfactory answer. "I might drop Calculus too if things don't work out..."

Well, I was bummed about that but it's not the end of the world. After everyone left, I helped the Lebanese Boy with a program he was writing, then went to lunch.

I'm pretty friendly with some of the cafeteria staff and with two girls in particular. As I was waiting for my wrap to be prepared by this hoochie behind the sandwich counter who always gives me attitude, one of the girls I'm friendly with was standing behind the cash register on the other side of the room, beside some hillbilly gal. The girl I am friendly with is evidently Catholic and, it being Ash Wednesday, had a mark on her forehad. As I waited, the following exchange happened...

Little Miss Hoochie looks at the Good Catholic Girl, snarls and then shouts...

Little Miss Hoochie:
What happened to you?!

The Good Catholic Girl is across the room and can't hear her, so Rob tries to explain.

Rob:
It's Ash Wednesday.
Little Miss Hoochie:
So?!
Rob:
She's Catholic.

Little Miss Hoochie clicks her teeth, ignores Rob and, as the Good Catholic Girl makes her way across the room, demands...

Little Miss Hoochie
What happened to you?!
The Good Catholic Girl:
It's Ash Wednesday.
Little Miss Hoochie:
So?
The Good Catholic Girl:
Pauses for a moment, considering, and then...
It's a Catholic thing.

The Good Catholic Girl leaves the cafeteria as Rob gets his food together and heads for the cash register.

Hillbilly Gal Cashier:
To Little Miss Hoochie and with attitude...
What did she say when you asked her why she had that mess on her forehead?
Little Miss Hoochie:
She said it was a Catholic thing.
Snorts and rolls her eyes.
Cashier:
Yeah, well, I don't see any other Catholics walking around with dirt on their face. That's just dumb if you ask me...
Little Miss Hoochie:
Yeah, she's stupid.

Now, I wouldn't call myself overly sensitive but am I the only one who thinks denigrating someone's religion at the top of your lungs in a place of business on a college campus is completely inappropriate? My mouth dropped open and I didn't know what to say. While I ate my lunch, I thought it over. "Am I overreacting? Am I just being silly?" I began kicking myself for not having said "I'm Catholic!" to the two, making them feel like fools. Usually I'm more on my toes. But there was still something to be done. On the way to my next class, I stopped by the multicultural affairs office and spoke to a counselor.

"Am I overreacting? Was that inappropriate?" I asked and, fortunately, the counselor agreed.

"I'll speak to the manager this afternoon," she declared.

Finally, as I was leaving a young guy came into the office to speak to a counselor. I overheard his conversation while I gathered my bags.

"I need to see about dropping my classes," he said and when the counselor asked why, he answered "Because I'm being deployed."

It's one thing to discuss the war when it's conceptual; it's quite a different thing to contemplate when you're looking at an eighteen year old kid, who probably just graduated high school and who has everything in the world laid out in front of him; instead, he's talking about going off to war.

That really shook me up.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.07.03

After a few months of respite, it seems that I will now suffer another round of dinner parties. Of course you remember the mania my mother experienced a few months ago, when we were having guests for dinner more often than Nobu. During the past two months, however, she has been busy working on both her personal and professional income taxes and hasn't had time to plan the next attack. That all changed this morning.

Around seven, I was snoring peacefully when I heard the unmistakable sound of antique furniture gliding across the floor above my head. "Poltergeist!" I declared, and rolled over. Unfortunately, nothing haunts this house but my mother.

"John! Come and help me turn this secretary around!" she shouted. Once that piece was in its latest position, she opened the front door and shouted "Waterbug, come in here!" Next, the infamous vacuum roared and rattled the floorboards. (Remember Sue's To-Do List?)

Yawning, I went upstairs and asked what was going on. We're having guests for dinner this Saturday, she said. Not many, though: just Billy, Glenda and Christina; Lucinda and Jim; Ellie and her fiance; John's brother and his wife; and Nancy G and David might stop by too.

No, not many at all.

On the down side, I will have to endure all kinds of commotion as she renovates the entire place, buys new tables and flatware and also rearranges all the furniture; there will be arguments and spats between the three of us when I refuse to help; my mother will sweat over every detail and repeatedly exclaim "I just have so much to get done!"; and it will all finally culminate with the religious ecstasy she experiences during the party itself...

On the bright side, she's making Indian food.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.09.03

During my observation of that troop of baboons led by Big Red (apparently the alpha male), I've paid special attention to one specimen in particular, arguably the beta male of the group. Every member of the troop snaps "Shut up, you don't know a damned thing!" whenever he opens his mouth; if he's out of earshot they bitterly complain "He's holding the group back!" (And just where are they going anyway?) Recently, one of the burlier baboons was chattering with the Thug when Beta Male interrupted and demanded "What are we talking about?" Inflating his fur, the burly baboon growled "If you interrupt my conversation again I'm gonna knock you in the face!" The tension was palpable. As I watched with eyebrows raised to my hairline, Beta Male backed slowly off.

On Friday afternoon my ogre Anthropology professor finally let us leave on time and I made it to the math lab after a leisurely stroll across campus. As I was checking my email, a dude across the room, a hot dude mind you, pushed his chair back, stood up and then pimped towards me. (I must be entering estrus--all these hot dudes surround me constantly these days. Of course it has little to do with my ability to explain things clearly and everything to do with my striking good looks. But I digress...)

"Can you help me with my lab? I don't understand what I'm doing wrong on this problem."

Taking the paper, I asked "Which one is it?"

"Number seven. When I integrate with a substitution I end up with this..."

As I looked it over, Beta Male swang over and interrupted by very grandly announcing "They only differ by a constant!"

The hot dude said "What?"

"They only differ by a constant!" he repeated.

I had discovered the problem and was about to tell the dude how to fix it when that little baboon snatched the paper from my hand and begin an extensive lecture on the properties of indefinite integrals.

This is the second time in a week that my mouth fell open, but this time I was more composed. I let that little prosimian rattle on for a minute or so, making little sense, then, when he really began to confuse the issue, I interrupted.

"Forget all that, your problem is a simple algebra mistake. The indefinite integral of (u-7)/u is equivalent to the integral of 1 - 7/u, not u - 7/u."

"Oh yeah!" the hot dude exclaimed happily. "Thanks, man!"

I looked at Beta Male with a blank face, then went back to my email while the rest of his troop filed in around him.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.10.03

Look, I know everyone is probably sick of hearing about the Physics and Calculus (P&C) classes, but I just love writing about them--they are a hoot and full of characters. Besides, what else is going on in my life?

To begin with, Big Red threw a hissy fit last week. There really is no other word for his performance; he stood in front of the class, argued with the professor, whined, complained and stamped his little feet, all to no avail.

You see, we are forced into producing weekly lab assignments in which we perform an experiment, write down all kinds of "data" and then analyze the numbers. Big Red and his crew act like they are rebuilding the Death Star and produce thirty and forty page analytical documents. I mean, good Lord--we are rolling a car down a track and recording its velocity...I'm sure Newton and Leibniz used less paper inventing Calculus.

Being a keen observor, I notice that Big Red always gets 100's on his assignments. Sitting in the back of the room, surrounded by my posse, I seethe; I'm usually the favorite, dammit! But Big Red got a shock to his system when Dr. Carr handed his lab back with an apology.

"I hated to mark you down, but you forgot to include your calculations for the percentage error."

Big Red had received a 95 on the assignment! You might as well have slapped him in the face.

"But I did!" he protested, tears welling in his eyes (OK, so I exaggerate for effect). "Look here!" he shouted, pointing to the alleged calculations.

"See me during the break!" the professor commanded, before returning to his yawn-inducing lecture on the coefficients of friction. When the time rolled around, Big Red bolted out of his seat, rushed to the front of the room and flapped the offending red ink in the professor's face.

"See! See! I did the calculations!"

The professor looked over the paper for a moment and then said "No, the calculations are missing here."

"But you didn't specify that you wanted the calculations there!"

"It was obvious."

Meanwhile, I'm all "Ooooh!" in the back of the classroom...

The next day I rolled into Calc II fifteen minutes early and began devouring a bagel with cream cheese. Suddenly, this character I call Shorty, who knows all of my posse but who ignores me, pimped into the room, threw himself into a chair, stretched out his stubby little legs and began regaling everyone with tales of his incredible sexual prowess. This tiny little frat boy is tan, muscular and pierced everywhere; he looks like he's on his way to a circuit party. He claims to be a sexual dynamo but I am old enough to know better.

"Last night," he bragged to a friend "I fucked some chick and she wore me out, dude! I am so tired!" This speech was delivered while he suppressed a yawn and high-fived his buddy. Meanwhile, some playa...exhausted after fucking one girl? Come on! I'm a fag and even I've taken two in one night. I was reminded of that classic film Black Gangbangaz in which a chick gets fucked by fourteen brothers and still isn't satisfied--after they all collapse in exhausted heaps at her feet, she complains "Is that all you got?!" and pulls out a vibrator.

After discussing his sexual athletics, he moved on to a discussion of his ride. Predictably, it is a Honda Civic which has been raised, lowered and accessorized more than Michael Jackson's face. If these characters want a sports car, why don't they just buy one? I mean, I could take him at a stoplight in Bubba for goodness sake!

So I was chewing on my bagel when he loudly announced "I'm about to install a Playstation 2 in the glove compartment. I've already taken out the passenger-side airbag and replaced it with a TV."

Before I could stop myself, I laughed out loud and nearly choked on my breakfast. Shorty turned around and scowled at me; I scowled right back. After all, someone who looks like a a circuit party queen ought to be accustomed to circuit party attitude.

The dude behind me whispered "Remind me never to ride down the road with him," and I said "Really! If he gets into an accident there will be be TV's, Playstation's and a tiny little frat boy flying in all directions."

.::Rob::.

update: 3.12.03

A few random things:

The government of Kentucky has more money-making schemes in place than the Mafia. My Pops renewed our car tags the other day and discovered that he would have to buy all new license plates for the third time in four years. The design on the plates seems to get changed annually and one is forced into spending good money on the latest model. "It's that friendly!" my ass... I feel like I've been rolled.

I saw Tubby online recently, so I stopped by to say hello. When he asked if I missed him, I said something smart-assed. The finale of the conversation came when he said "You don't know how much willpower it took for me not to rip your clothes off your body when we went out that night. I just wanted you so badly." I'll assume he was joking.

A vision test Mike made me take the other day. Warning: it's startling. Literally.

KT informs me that the little baboon whom I referred to as Beta Male should actually be Omega Male. Did I ever say I accept corrections or print retractions?

The Lebanese Boy asked me to go get a beer with him on Monday night. The last time he asked I said no, so I think he was a little suprised when I agreed. Suddenly, he had things to do. However, he did enter my digits in his mobile and we are going to go out on Wednesday night if he doesn't leave for Spring Break. I hope he also feels the urge to rip my clothes off my body.

As is my custom, I gave up something for Lent--snacking between meals. That may not sound like much but it keeps the season in my mind. After all, I seem to have become a bulk grazer and eat from the time I get up until the time I go to bed. Catholic or not, I think everyone should participate in the Lenten fast.

Finally, I just hate and despise my Anthropology professor. It's not the pop quizzes he gives almost every day that annoy me so much as the way he scolds us afterwards. "Folks, if you don't know this stuff you're going to fail the exam!" he warns, as though we should remember the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus and species of Homo Erectus after one reading of the text. He also talks down to us and acts like we are idiots for not being able to infer subtle differences between the skull of Ardipithicus and Australopithecus after one cursory examination--perhaps having a PhD in Anthropology, as he does, would help. Dumb fuckin' son of a bitch...

Now I sound like a proper college student.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.13.03

At last! I flipped through the Lawrenceburg local yesterday and found a few interesting items in the Community News section. By the way, I'm not making fun of injured people, I just can't believe they print these things in the newspaper:

"Stewart G----- suffered a severe cut about two weeks ago when a soft drink bottle exploded in his left hand."

"Hollie C. M----- received a severe foot injury Saturday morning while operating a power saw at the rear of the home of Rev. John W. K-------- at Stringtown. It is believed the foot can be saved."

"Price C------ is a patient at Frankfort Hospital."

"A representative of a Winchester picture studio was picked up by police here Wednesday afternoon and run out of town following a report that he was using obscene language when calling at various homes in the southwestern section of town.
The man was reported to policeman Roscoe D----- who investigated and questioned the man. D----- said the man, about 23, admitted having cursed several women at their home in the Broadway, Ripy, Saffell, Marrs and Village Drive areas, but failed to take the officer to the correct homes when asked to do so."

.::Rob::.

update: 3.14.03

Every night it's the same drama. After falling asleep during Fox News and snoring happily on the sofa for an hour or two, my mother wakes up and staggers to the bedroom. But then comes the $64,000 question...

"Has anyone seen Waterbug?"

I know then that we're about to endure another ten or fifteen minutes of pure hell. If I had any sense, I would lie and shout "Yes!" But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Ignoring the fact that she's been asleep for two hours and has no reason to believe any one of the cats is suddenly outside, she falls into a blind panic and begins rushing from room to room, madly searching for the allegedly lost creature. Anyone with four cats should realize that they don't come running just because you call them, but not my mother. No, if they don't appear, they are obviously missing.

Things always take a turn for the worse when she wonders aloud "Is she outside?"

"No, Ma, I saw her earlier."

"Yes, but have you seen her recently?"

"No. But I doubt she opened the door and went for a stroll. I mean, lacking opposable thumbs and all..."

After a final cursory inspection of the house, she rushes outside screaming "Waterbug!" while all the other cats follow her outside. And then Waterbug walks calmly down the hall and begins cleaning herself. So what we have then is all the cats which were inside now outside, running the roads and refusing to come in. My Pops puts on his shoes and storms out to capture them.

While clicking on the computer I holler "Just leave them out there! They were all strays, it's not going to hurt them to be outside overnight!"

"They'll get eaten by a coyote!" my mother insists.

With all this excitement going on, that ancient dog of ours usually soils the floor and my mother, while racing from window to window, usually steps in it.

"Brandy, God damn it!" she bellows, while hobbling off to the bathroom to rinse her toes. Meanwhile, I'm still on the computer, except now I'm cackling loudly and blogging the incident.

Twenty minutes later, after huffing, puffing and hysteria, all the little beasts are in and my mother's foot has been disinfected. She is finally able to sleep peacefully. Meanwhile, my Pops and I are frazzled and worn.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.19.03

Sorry for no updates, but kinda got distracted by the whole Spring Break thing. You know how it is...drinking...drugging...Girls Gone Wild...

So yesterday I went to the Lawrenceburg library to look through the law books. (Recall that I had planned to do something about the abuse of disabled parking spaces in the Lawrenceburg area.) Having never looked at a law book, I found them to be surprisingly accessible. And the statute itself (KRS 189.459) was surprisingly simple:

"No person shall park in a parking area designated as accessible to and for the use of a person with a disability in a motor vehicle not displaying either an auto registration plate [...] or an out-of-state registration plate designated for the use of a person with a disability on the rear of the vehicle [...]"

Furthermore...

"Any person who violates any of the provisions of KRS [...] 189.450 to 189.480 [...] shall be fined not less than twenty dollars ($20) nor more than one hundred dollars ($100) for each offense."

Simple enough, huh? So why haven't I seen a single police officer actually stop and ticket cars parked in those spaces as they pass? I'll begin my letter to the editor this afternoon. Joe also suggested I send a copy along to the motor vehicle administration.

While looking over the statutes I realized two things:

First, there are some weird statutes. Can you just imagine the drunken shenanigans that prompted sanctions against horse racing on the highway and log dragging? Furthermore, I guess I'd better never drive again. And forget about snake handling.

Second, I really want to go to law school. I mean, looking up arcane facts in a library...picking fights...arguing?! This is right up my alley!

.::Rob::.

update: 3.24.03

So I was wondering what I was going to write about while I was on spring break. After all, I planned to lounge around the house for a full week, absorbed in the drama of The People's Court. What was there to say? Turns out...nothing!

(Well, there is a war going on, but I vowed to keep my political opinions to myself a long time ago...)

So what did I do during spring break? Lessee...

I looked over Mike's new site which is rather empty at the moment.

I reviewed a few Weight Watchers Recipe Cards from 1974 (I was three!), supplied by a faithful reader. Thanks, Tom!

I did not receive a phone call from the Lebanese Boy, though he vowed to call every hour on the hour. Bastard!

I took a practice LSAT one lazy afternoon and did suprisingly well. Shockingly, I should say. I am so ready for Harvard, I don't know why I bother...

I learned to pray the rosary! Yes, I am odd.

I fought with my mother! No surprise there, but really, she is just so damned annoying. And I'm sure she'd say the same of me.

And that's about it. I'm going back to class in just a few minutes...I'm sure there will be thousands of exciting developments to report just as soon as I get back in the groove. Stay tuned and I apologize for a week without updates.

.::Rob::.

update: 3.31.03

I had planned on coming into the Medical Society this morning and spending my time carefully crafting an apologetic entry. I've been rather remiss in updating for the past two weeks and thought I should explain. Instead, I was confronted with a situation. The web site wasn't working and, as the reigning expert, I was expected to fix it. The nerve!

On the good side, everything is working fine now. On the bad side, I'm outta time and have to dash to school. But keep the faith...I know I have at least a few loyal readers and I promise to update at least once this week.

Sorry!

In the meantime, why don't you mull over the classes I will be taking this summer and fall...I just registered:

Summer Session I
Cultural Diversity in the Modern World
(Gee, I wonder if this is a requirement?)

Summer Session II
Electrical Engineering 280
(Gee, I wonder if this is a requirement?)

Fall 2003
Calculus III
University Physics II
Programming III
(The first two are five hour classs and the last is four hours, so yes, I am full-time.)

Doesn't that sound exciting? Don't you just wanna trade places with me?

.::Rob::.