I'm in the biggest fucking airport: Dallas/Fort Worth. It's humid, nasty, and packed with people. Jason is not amused with kids kicking his heels or the annoying teller not understanding "no onions" on his Big Mac. I've decided my next purchase must be a pair of those Bose headphones.
The seat on my last airplane ride I had the pleasure of occupying had the fantastic feature of not locking in any position. You can imagine my delight at sliding back and forth with every change in velocity.
I hate airplanes.
Must rest. Bad indigestion (fucking big mac). Too many people.
It's 4am. I am not a morning person. The addiction to coffee this country has becomes readily apparent. I miss the bed. I am not ammused with the weather. To the airport I go ... go George Mason.
I'm not known for being the nicest guy in the world, and have on many occasions probably been the cause for expensive psychologist bills for a few people. However, why is it that I always seem to say the worst things, yell the loudest, and hurt the people I care about the most?
I'm fucking sick and tired of having to apologize because I don't have to do the "normal college grad" thing. It's not my fault I figured out what I wanted to do with this life of mine and am doing it. I'm lucky, yes, but I also worked my ass off to be where I am. I've ruined relationships, friendships, dates, jobs, grades, and sanity for a chance to chase a dream of mine. While 99% of my peers were out getting drunk, fucking, and puking on the library steps (I was actually out that night, story may be posted someday), I was in my room, in front of a computer, working on the vision you see before you. I hate having to say, "I'm sorry" for something I really want to be able to scream with unbridled pride at the top of my lungs.
Let this be a testament to everyone out there reading my mostly selfish ramblings. Follow your heart - but beware that achieving a mere fraction of your goals may cause many of those you considered "friends" or even "lovers" to hold a level of animosity I can't begin to describe.
It's been one of those days; the world's lucky I've been kept in-doors.
I can't take credit for this one either - it's (again) my mother's idea. Seriously, I'm not just covering up a fear of permanent betrayal from the opposite sex.
We've all seen those little metal buttons that bands (and even AP.net) sell, right? Well, if you ever grow tired of sticking them on your clothes, backpack, or cat - here's a way to keep using them ala "Martha Stewart" (minus the jail sentence).
Turn them into magnets.
It's so easy even Jared Kaufman can do it:
1) Simply pull the round pin backing out of the button.
2) Purchase small magnets from Michaels or another crafts store. (Example)
3) Place magnet on button. You can glue it on if you wish, but I usually don't so that I can swap out buttons at a later time when I get tired of the current ones.
4) Stick to refrigerator.
I've included images below for those interested. Also, craft stores (which, contrary to popular belief I don't frequent) also carry metal frames. Do you see where this is going? A cool gift idea (I loath myself for typing that) is to give someone a metal frame with a picture on it, affixed via one of these magnets. If by "cool gift idea" I mean "cheap gift idea that when given to a girl will sometimes convince her to let you play with her boobs." There, I feel more secure with my sexuality now.
I'll be heading to the Final Four in Indianapolis in a few days (bright and early Friday morning to be exact) ... I hope to chronicle the tales via sidekick to this page. So, keep checking back if you feel so inclined.
Oh, and I got the new Thursday CD. I'm going to be "reviewing it" in a very different sort of manner, keep checking the main page for more information on that in the near future.
Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is it vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished, as the once vital voice of the verisimilitude now venerates what they once vilified. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
In a completely "Martha Stewart" moment, my mom came up with a brilliant idea of how to preserve some of my old band tshirts. Turns out I either: outgrew, purchased the wrong size, or ruined quite a few t-shirts over the past few years. My mom discovered the perfect way to keep me from having to toss them in the trash - she turned them into pillows. I've included the pattern below, as well as some pictures of the ones I have laying around my house. If you're in the creative mood, have at it .. I figured I'd post this up here just in case anyone wanted the info.
This pattern requires:
1 t-shirt (with the design on the front chest part of the shirt)
1 pillow form (the dimensions given work for a 16 x 16 pillow form)
The ability to sew 3 sets of straight lines
1) Cut the t-shirt up the sides so that you separate the front from the back.
2) Cut a 17 ¼ inch wide x 11 inch tall rectangle from the bottom of the back of the shirt (keeping the hem of the shirt and having the hem as the width measurement).
3) Cut a 17 ¼ inch wide rectangle from the front of the shirt, starting at the neckline and running all the way to the bottom of the shirt (keeping the hem of the shirt).
4) Right sides together, place the small rectangle at the top of the larger rectangle with the hems at the bottom. Sew the two pieces together along the top, ¼ inch from the edge. Sew again ¼ inch from the first seam.
5) Measure down 16 ¾ inch from the top of the shirt. This measurement is a fold line. At this foldline, fold the lower part of the shirt (the large rectangle) up over the smaller rectangle that is now attached to the larger rectangle. You now have a square. Sew the two sides the same as you sewed the top (¼” from the edge and then ¼” from the first seam).
6) Turn the finished product inside out and insert the pillow form. On the back, the upper portion should overlap the lower portion and the original hem from the shirt should be visible.
This pattern can be adapted for smaller shirts and pillow forms. For example, a 14 x 14 pillow form uses a 15 ½ ” wide x 9 ½” tall smaller rectangle (and a 15 ½” wide rectangle from the front of the shirt with a foldline at the 14 ½” measurement from the top of the shirt). If your design is on the back of the shirt, you can alter the directions so that you have the larger rectangle cut from the back of the shirt and the smaller rectangle cut from the front of the shirt.
The Washington - UConn game I just watched will go down as the biggest farce to college basketball I have ever been a participant in watching. Absolutely disgusting display of bias officiating and favoritism. I'm a Duke fan, so I know what it's like to get calls you shouldn't - but holy hell was tonight the most horrifically embarrassing moment for the NCAA.
I am being punished for some trespass. My youthful indiscretions are coming back to haunt me in the form of a sporting event disaster. I will cheer for any team besides UConn (even fucking Texas) before I will root for that team.
Anyone that thinks leaking an unmastered version of a 250K selling band 3 months early, "helps the band" can go sit on on a spiked object. This is getting ridiculous. Have some respect for the bands all you claim to "love." If you get something early, don't fucking leak it - keep it to yourself and brag about it. This is out of control.
This doesn't "help bands" - that argument is dead.
This doesn't help you decide if you like something "before you buy it" - that argument's dead.
God. So, life is pretty shitty. I'm not supposed to get all emotional about sporting events. Well, it's hard when you've spent 23 years watching them with your dad, cheering for the teams, going away to college and expecting .. no, demanding a phone call after any play worthy of dialing. Then on the year you get to go the the Final Four, your dad's life-long dream, and an event just riddled with anticipation. Everything falls apart. It's as heartbreaking as "sports" can be. They say the losses just make the victories sweeter, but tonight I feel like I got punched in the gut. I know in the grand scheme of things - this is totally petty and not even that big of a deal. I'm just venting ... a roof over my head, food, and the love of those around me means I'm still going to be okay.
JJ Redick, Sheldon Williams, and Adam Morrison - you guys were stars, and I wish you the best of luck in the future. Thank you for an amazing year of basketball that won't soon be forgotten. I wish the ending was sweeter, but now - go make millions. Class acts, good people, great college athletes. Makes me wish I followed the NBA just so I could see them play more games in the future and know it's not the end of their careers.
Weebs, I'm tossing my lot in now as a bandwagon fan (I'm from Oregon, it's okay) with the Huskies. Sorry for basically guaranteeing they lose now ... God hates me.
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