I suppose you must be wondering what has happened to me.
I mean, I haven't written for quite some time.
The suspense of it all is overwhelming...
I guess there's not much to say. After all, I haven't been up to anything interesting. I've done a lot of sleeping. Of course, so has Hypnos. I've also been searching for another job, but nothing has come up yet. I will have to see, I suppose.
Today I thought I'd talk about:
Excuse me, I just had an epiphany.
My Epiphany:
Some of you may think that I am antisocial.
Gasp!
This is really quite untrue, dear reader. I am most definitely not at all ever antisocial. I merely prefer to keep to myself. I would love to be more social, but remember, I am a Spy. Spies are not allowed to have friends. I believe I may be breaking that rule because I own a cat. So I will err on the side of caution, and continue to stay in my quiet, dark and secret room.
Although Hypnos doesn't really count as a pet, as he's always prone on the floor, snoring.
Did you know that cats snore?
They do. Loudly. And clearly. Like this: "Oooooooooooohaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrrggrummmmble." Repeat this sound at least five hundred thousand six million times, and you will grasp the full extent of Hypnos' nighttime noises.
On another subject, I received a mysterious package(s) today. I say "package(s)" because I fear I may receive more.
The package contained a plastic container of stale mozzarella sticks, and a single, badly written, mostly illegible, quite dirty note.
I deciphered the following words (which were only visible after wiping off some dirt and mud with a paper towel):
Youy (sic) ______ anoyging (sic) an (sic) rude.
I sending youy (sic) this pakage (sic) becuze (sic) I waz (sic) inferiated (sic) bi (sic) youy (sic) latest blog poste (sic).
Youyrs (sic) truely (sic),
Mr. Siganel
Needless to say, I was highly confused. Yes, I did remember writing about the dolt that kept sending me mozzarella sticks, but I could not figure out how the "inferiated" package sender found out where I lived. Nor how he had learned to write so incredibly badly.
I am not moving again, dear reader!
I have finally gotten comfortable. Hate mail and illegible letters will not hinder my resolve! Neither will cat snores or hairs! Or even...even...even the large moth that keeps fluttering around my bathroom!
Did you hear the doorbell?
One moment.
It was my imagination, dear reader. As I was saying a moment ago, I have found a Topic of the Day:
Oops. I heard the doorbell. I really did. One second, please.
Oh, dear.
Whye did youy not answar mye note?
I will sende youy moire disguting presents if youy dont retracte youyr rude wordes.
Youyrs truely,
Mr. Siganel
Such annoyances, dear reader, are to be expected when one is a famous and well-known author. Especially an author such as myself. Since I am such a confident and poised person, I will simply continue to ignore these banal and inconsiderate taunts.
Did you hear something?
Never mind.
As I was saying, the Topic for Today is:
I hear the doorbell again...
Something mysterious is lying on the ground outside my apartment. It is large, brown, and square.
It is a cardboard box.
Inside of it is a mysterious object.
It is a Tupperware container.
I am opening it.
(Don't open it, Anonymous Titan! you cry. I do not hear you.)
I am still opening it.
I am still opening it. (The lid is stuck.)
I have opened it!
What is it?
It is black and shiny.
Oh, no.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
No.
I apologize for the monosyllabic sentences, dear reader. I was in momentary shock.
The mysterious object was a video camera. I am typing this on the roof of my apartment. I have just climbed out my window, after locking my apartment door and pushing the bed (with great effort) in front of it, and I have brought Hypnos and my laptop with me up here.
There are no sounds of pursuit, yet.
As soon as I opened the box completely and peered inside, I had a moment of sheer bewildered astonishment.
I could not tell what I was looking at. The angle was all wrong.
After a few seconds, I realized I was staring directly into the lenses of a video camera. I shut the box very fast, but as I looked up, I heard the sound of footsteps from around the corner at the end of my hall. I immediately associated the video camera with the approaching person, so I acted rather dramatically.
I snatched the lid off the box, threw the camera on the floor, and stomped on it.
Someone's foot appeared at the edge of the corner. I fumbled for my doorknob, got the door open, and whisked inside, but not before I had seen my stalker's shoes.
Luckily, he did not get a good look at me. I know it was a he because of his manly leather footwear. He may even be the same man that pursued me a few days ago.
The video camera is quite smashed.
I doubt he will be able to get any data from it, unless it was hooked up remotely to a computer and it sent the video in time.
But still, this whole experience was a fiasco from start to finish. I really need to use common sense with this sort of thing!
I am climbing down from the roof now, dear reader, to get my bike and speed off into the night. Hypnos has his own little basket to sit in, so he will be extremely comfortable. The only thing I am truly sad about is my box of frozen fried zucchini in the freezer, and my collection of purple-striped socks. I did not have time to load them into a basket.
I will have to buy more, and soon.
Tips for Today:
Tip # 53: For summer fun, build a fort outside. When I was little, I used to make forts out of sheets, dining room chairs, blankets, and various other objects. Yes, dear reader, you can too! Simply arrange the chairs in a circle, square, or triangle, and drape blankets and sheets over the top to make a nice roof. If you are lucky, the fabric will hang down far enough that your fort is almost completely concealed. If you need camouflage, arrange sticks, branches, leaves, and trees around your fort. Then spray it with bugspray. I find that bugs enjoy dark, close, and heated spaces.
Tip #54: To do well in Angry Professors' classes, refrain from thinking of rude answers to the Angry Professor's questions, and instead resolve to get an A+. Then the Angry Professor will have no choice but to give you your well-deserved A (as long as you study, pay attention, and do the assignments) and you can show him or her just how smart you really are. Of course, they may believe that your A+ is due to their harsh teaching style - correct this misinformation by writing exactly (in great detail and with truth) what you thought about their class and how they can improve.
Tip #55: Do not, I repeat, do not pick up random packages from people you do not know (and which lack addresses) and open them. These may lead to irreparable repercussions. As you know, instead of residing happily in my apartment (about which I swore earlier that I would never leave) I am riding madly through the night, holding on to my laptop with one hand and typing, and steering around cars with the other.
You do not want to have to go through what I am currently experiencing.aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
Excuse me. There was a car heading towards me and my forefinger got stuck on the A key.
This is the end of my post for tonight.
Goodnight, dear reader.
P.S. To the dolt that keeps sending me rude notes and stale mozzarella sticks:
Mr. Sinagel:
You are an extremely unintelligent and clearly miserable person. Do not send me any more hate mail, or you will find yourself very, very unhappy.
Yours truly,
The Anonymous Titan
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Tenacious Titan
The man in the suit had been carrying a briefcase, and when I had entered the donut shop this morning I had seen him briefly through the crush of people on the sidewalk.
Our eyes had caught for a moment, as was common with strangers in crowds, but this time it felt odd.
His eyes were dark, grim, and blood-shot; the people nearest him glanced at his face, moved farther away, and hurried onward, and I felt sure that his expression had changed dramatically as soon as his eyes focused on mine.
He had looked almost... triumphant.
But the next second I was through the door and in the donut shop, and I forgot momentarily about him in my haste to order.
When I came out, he was sitting at a small table at the outdoor restaurant a few stores over, his slickly polished briefcase on the table, and his position was such that he faced the donut shop door.
As I saw him, I began to turn away as I remembered his odd stare, but was too late.
He looked up at me, reached for his briefcase, and began to get up.
I spun around and practically ran through the crowd, slipping between various people and glancing over my shoulder.
My inexplicable feeling of danger was not an illusion - the mysterious man was pushing his way through the crowd, hurrying after me, clutching his briefcase, and wearing a determined look.
I knew I wouldn't be able to evade him for long. I needed a distraction.
I turned the corner onto another street; this one's sidewalks were filled with tourists and little kiosks, and the street had no cars. I stopped running as I made my way along the thickly crowded sidewalk, fumbling in my pocket, and praying for enough time.
After I dropped the smoke bomb and went into the back streets, the mysterious man had vanished.
I had caught only one last look at him before I had made my move. He had been running down the sidewalk, briefcase swinging wildly in the air, and then it had caught on a nearby kiosk - the little wooden stand toppled over, landing on top of him and its manager - and a cascade of used books flapped up into the air like old brown birds.
The smoke bomb had only served to further confuse the tourists, as most of them were standing around gaping at the collapsed kiosk, and when the smoke and light filled the air, they stampeded away from the street and exactly where I had planned them to go.
The mysterious man would've had quite a headache extricating himself from the books, the kiosk, the incensed manager, and the throngs of terrified and 911-dialing people now surrounding him.
Which is probably the only reason why I made it back to my apartment.
Dear reader, I have moved. Again.
I suppose you are wondering why I'm not used to this by now, but since that is secret, secret, secret information, I am not going to tell you. Ha ha ha!
I was forced to leave my nice new couch (sniff, pout), but I brought Hypnos with me, thank goodness.
Today's Topic of the Day:
Majors.
Yes, today's topic is about Select Categories of Students' Interests!
I shall list a few CSUF Majors for you:
1. Business
2. Communication
3. Nursing
4. The Best of All Time Ever For Ever and Ever and EVER: ENGLISH
5. Some Boring Thing like Biology
6. Math (Equals Barf)
7. Political Science (this one is actually halfway interesting, so check it out)
8. Engineering
9. Geology (ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)
10. Anthropology
11. Psychology (also sort of interesting - I took a Psychology class and liked it!)
12. History.
So, dear reader, you might like to hear my insights on my Major.
I will not go into them.
If you really want to know what kinds of jobs to look forward to if you become an English major, read on.
NONE.
Well, that is a bit exaggerated.
You could maybe become a writer, but you'd starve. You could work on a newspaper, but soon they will all go out of business or part of the Internet, so that is depressing. You could review books, but there's a lot of book reviewers - are you sure they'd hire you? You could slave away at a different job during the day, and write when you get home, but I daresay you'd be too exhausted to write anything any good.
That is exaggerated also, dear reader!
Here is my advice:
Do what you want to do, but do it well. Perfect it. In the meantime, stack up your other options. If you are any good at anything else, work on that. Apply to any place that will hire you. Keep going. Don't give up.
As for all those other Majors, I will tell you about what they will be doing in the future:
1. Business Majors: will rule the world. I'm not kidding. I mean, they know how to run everything! How to hire employees, and make them work, and all about economics!
2. Communication Majors: will be the peacemakers. As in ambassadors, speech givers, political candidates. They will work under Business Majors.
3. Nursing/Medical Majors: will patch everyone up and earn lots of money. This is quite obvious, but also good to know if you're in the dark. If you're sick, injured, or mentally confused, go to one of these people and ask for advice. They will probably work under Business Majors too, although I bet some of them will end up being heads of hospitals and other important things.
4. English Majors: will write dissertations, become English Professors, and writers, and continue to read avidly. We will probably work for Business Majors, although some of us stick our noses in the air when confronted with authority, and will end up working for ourselves on the street somewhere.
5. Biology/Other Science Majors: will also rule the world. They will become scientists, researchers, and those other smart (and occasionally not so smart) people that show up on the news to discuss relevant scientific events. These are the people you turn to when there is an earthquake or other natural disaster, or when there is an epidemic of something. They're also the ones the government turns to, so they're rather important.
6. Math Majors: must I write about them? It goes against my very nature!!!!!!!!!!! All right, fine. These...people...will....become....teachers...and other boring math things...and they will...probably...also...rule...the...world........arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....
7. Political Science Majors: will become some of those nice people that beat up bad guys and put them in prison. Yay! They will also be Supreme Court Justices, Congressmen/women, Speakers of the House (and etc.), and last, but not least, LAWYERS! Oooooooooh....Ahhhhh...
8. Engineering Majors: will write complicated computer programs and advance technology. They are cool. They will probably also rule the world.
9. Anthropology Majors: will travel to distant parts of the world, hang out with people I've never heard of, write books and dissertations and other long things about them and their cultures, and then travel back and become Anthropology Professors. These people are also scientists sometimes.
10. Psychology Majors: will understand somewhat how people think and why people do what they do, although I daresay they will be stumped by me! I presume that these people will end up running their own practices and working in various jobs. They may not rule the world, although they will probably say they understand it a whole lot better than other people do.
11. History Majors: are very important, for all you readers who disagree. They will be the ones to write down things about our current time period, look to the past and point out our mistakes, and remember those who have done great things. Hopefully, a few of them will put me down in history also. These people are mostly ignored nowadays, as they end up being behind-the-scenes sort of people, working in museums, as History Professors, writing History Books, and discussing old things like why the French Revolution happened. I would like to say, although very tentatively, that these people are just as important as all those hot shot Math Majors and Biology people.
So those are my opinions on Majors.
On a side note, an interesting thing happened today.
I was at CSUF, picking up my box of Fried Zucchini from the sundial, and sneaking successfully around.
Then I went home and sat on my floor. I have no furniture yet.
Hypnos sat down next to me and fell asleep sitting up.
After I ate all the Fried Zucchini, I looked in the bottom of the box (for no reason, really. I guess I was curious?) and saw something altogether fascinating.
It was a note.
Dear Anonymous Titan,
I hope you enjoy the fried zucchini.
- C. Mason
So send them to me!!!!!!
And no more food, although I did appreciate your gifts.. It's too hot for food to sit out all day on the sundial. Adios, melted fried zucchini.
To the dolt that keeps sending me mozzarella sticks: I'm not picking them up anymore. You take them home.
Farewell, all you other readers. Have a nice day.
Our eyes had caught for a moment, as was common with strangers in crowds, but this time it felt odd.
His eyes were dark, grim, and blood-shot; the people nearest him glanced at his face, moved farther away, and hurried onward, and I felt sure that his expression had changed dramatically as soon as his eyes focused on mine.
He had looked almost... triumphant.
But the next second I was through the door and in the donut shop, and I forgot momentarily about him in my haste to order.
When I came out, he was sitting at a small table at the outdoor restaurant a few stores over, his slickly polished briefcase on the table, and his position was such that he faced the donut shop door.
As I saw him, I began to turn away as I remembered his odd stare, but was too late.
He looked up at me, reached for his briefcase, and began to get up.
I spun around and practically ran through the crowd, slipping between various people and glancing over my shoulder.
My inexplicable feeling of danger was not an illusion - the mysterious man was pushing his way through the crowd, hurrying after me, clutching his briefcase, and wearing a determined look.
I knew I wouldn't be able to evade him for long. I needed a distraction.
I turned the corner onto another street; this one's sidewalks were filled with tourists and little kiosks, and the street had no cars. I stopped running as I made my way along the thickly crowded sidewalk, fumbling in my pocket, and praying for enough time.
After I dropped the smoke bomb and went into the back streets, the mysterious man had vanished.
I had caught only one last look at him before I had made my move. He had been running down the sidewalk, briefcase swinging wildly in the air, and then it had caught on a nearby kiosk - the little wooden stand toppled over, landing on top of him and its manager - and a cascade of used books flapped up into the air like old brown birds.
The smoke bomb had only served to further confuse the tourists, as most of them were standing around gaping at the collapsed kiosk, and when the smoke and light filled the air, they stampeded away from the street and exactly where I had planned them to go.
The mysterious man would've had quite a headache extricating himself from the books, the kiosk, the incensed manager, and the throngs of terrified and 911-dialing people now surrounding him.
Which is probably the only reason why I made it back to my apartment.
Dear reader, I have moved. Again.
I suppose you are wondering why I'm not used to this by now, but since that is secret, secret, secret information, I am not going to tell you. Ha ha ha!
I was forced to leave my nice new couch (sniff, pout), but I brought Hypnos with me, thank goodness.
Today's Topic of the Day:
Majors.
Yes, today's topic is about Select Categories of Students' Interests!
I shall list a few CSUF Majors for you:
1. Business
2. Communication
3. Nursing
4. The Best of All Time Ever For Ever and Ever and EVER: ENGLISH
5. Some Boring Thing like Biology
6. Math (Equals Barf)
7. Political Science (this one is actually halfway interesting, so check it out)
8. Engineering
9. Geology (ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)
10. Anthropology
11. Psychology (also sort of interesting - I took a Psychology class and liked it!)
12. History.
So, dear reader, you might like to hear my insights on my Major.
I will not go into them.
If you really want to know what kinds of jobs to look forward to if you become an English major, read on.
NONE.
Well, that is a bit exaggerated.
You could maybe become a writer, but you'd starve. You could work on a newspaper, but soon they will all go out of business or part of the Internet, so that is depressing. You could review books, but there's a lot of book reviewers - are you sure they'd hire you? You could slave away at a different job during the day, and write when you get home, but I daresay you'd be too exhausted to write anything any good.
That is exaggerated also, dear reader!
Here is my advice:
Do what you want to do, but do it well. Perfect it. In the meantime, stack up your other options. If you are any good at anything else, work on that. Apply to any place that will hire you. Keep going. Don't give up.
As for all those other Majors, I will tell you about what they will be doing in the future:
1. Business Majors: will rule the world. I'm not kidding. I mean, they know how to run everything! How to hire employees, and make them work, and all about economics!
2. Communication Majors: will be the peacemakers. As in ambassadors, speech givers, political candidates. They will work under Business Majors.
3. Nursing/Medical Majors: will patch everyone up and earn lots of money. This is quite obvious, but also good to know if you're in the dark. If you're sick, injured, or mentally confused, go to one of these people and ask for advice. They will probably work under Business Majors too, although I bet some of them will end up being heads of hospitals and other important things.
4. English Majors: will write dissertations, become English Professors, and writers, and continue to read avidly. We will probably work for Business Majors, although some of us stick our noses in the air when confronted with authority, and will end up working for ourselves on the street somewhere.
5. Biology/Other Science Majors: will also rule the world. They will become scientists, researchers, and those other smart (and occasionally not so smart) people that show up on the news to discuss relevant scientific events. These are the people you turn to when there is an earthquake or other natural disaster, or when there is an epidemic of something. They're also the ones the government turns to, so they're rather important.
6. Math Majors: must I write about them? It goes against my very nature!!!!!!!!!!! All right, fine. These...people...will....become....teachers...and other boring math things...and they will...probably...also...rule...the...world........arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....
7. Political Science Majors: will become some of those nice people that beat up bad guys and put them in prison. Yay! They will also be Supreme Court Justices, Congressmen/women, Speakers of the House (and etc.), and last, but not least, LAWYERS! Oooooooooh....Ahhhhh...
8. Engineering Majors: will write complicated computer programs and advance technology. They are cool. They will probably also rule the world.
9. Anthropology Majors: will travel to distant parts of the world, hang out with people I've never heard of, write books and dissertations and other long things about them and their cultures, and then travel back and become Anthropology Professors. These people are also scientists sometimes.
10. Psychology Majors: will understand somewhat how people think and why people do what they do, although I daresay they will be stumped by me! I presume that these people will end up running their own practices and working in various jobs. They may not rule the world, although they will probably say they understand it a whole lot better than other people do.
11. History Majors: are very important, for all you readers who disagree. They will be the ones to write down things about our current time period, look to the past and point out our mistakes, and remember those who have done great things. Hopefully, a few of them will put me down in history also. These people are mostly ignored nowadays, as they end up being behind-the-scenes sort of people, working in museums, as History Professors, writing History Books, and discussing old things like why the French Revolution happened. I would like to say, although very tentatively, that these people are just as important as all those hot shot Math Majors and Biology people.
So those are my opinions on Majors.
On a side note, an interesting thing happened today.
I was at CSUF, picking up my box of Fried Zucchini from the sundial, and sneaking successfully around.
Then I went home and sat on my floor. I have no furniture yet.
Hypnos sat down next to me and fell asleep sitting up.
After I ate all the Fried Zucchini, I looked in the bottom of the box (for no reason, really. I guess I was curious?) and saw something altogether fascinating.
It was a note.
Dear Anonymous Titan,
I hope you enjoy the fried zucchini.
- C. Mason
So I flipped it over.
There was an address on the back, which I shan't write here, but I think I may write back.
I'll tell you when this mysterious person sends another note.
Tips of the Day:
Tip #51: Enjoy the summer weather. Go for a walk in the morning, before it gets too hot! Go to the mall. Go to a store. Go to a museum, a park, a beach, or a restaurant. Then look around and enjoy it! I suggest that you buy a souvenir to remember your happy day by. Or draw a picture, write a poem, or a haiku (those are fun) or go outside and lie on the grass and count the birds that fly over. Watch out for falling poop.
Tip #52: Write a haiku and put it on the sundial. I have enough Fried Zucchini for now, dear reader. Here is a haiku I wrote:
I see the morning
Bright light breaks on green-gold leaves
Why's it so darn hot?!
So send them to me!!!!!!
Please, nothing mushy or overtly romantic.
And no more food, although I did appreciate your gifts.. It's too hot for food to sit out all day on the sundial. Adios, melted fried zucchini.
Farewell, all you other readers. Have a nice day.
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Tricky Titan
I walked into a donut shop and ordered three large Boston Cream Donuts.
I walked out with my bagged prize in hand and munched on the first of my donuts, watching people walk past me down the sidewalk and the shine off the sunlit store windows, and listening to a street mucisian play a few ragged chords on his old guitar.
When I was sure that no one was looking at me (A woman walked past with an upraised, unfurled newspaper, eyes downward as she read), I reached into my pocket, pulled out something round, smooth, and metallic, pressed the switch on the top and threw it low so that it rolled into the middle of the empty street.
There was a loud bang and a flash of blinding white light, accompanied by a massive, gushing stream of oily dark smoke.
People gasped, clutched for their purses, hurried into stores, but I didn't see because I had ducked into a nearby alleyway and was moving quickly.
The sunlight disappeared as I went around a grimy corner and into a dim back street. There was no sound of anyone following me.
But I continued on anyways. I'd get home by another route.
I hoped that the mysterious man in the dark suit wouldn't be able to track me back to my apartment.
I walked out with my bagged prize in hand and munched on the first of my donuts, watching people walk past me down the sidewalk and the shine off the sunlit store windows, and listening to a street mucisian play a few ragged chords on his old guitar.
When I was sure that no one was looking at me (A woman walked past with an upraised, unfurled newspaper, eyes downward as she read), I reached into my pocket, pulled out something round, smooth, and metallic, pressed the switch on the top and threw it low so that it rolled into the middle of the empty street.
There was a loud bang and a flash of blinding white light, accompanied by a massive, gushing stream of oily dark smoke.
People gasped, clutched for their purses, hurried into stores, but I didn't see because I had ducked into a nearby alleyway and was moving quickly.
The sunlight disappeared as I went around a grimy corner and into a dim back street. There was no sound of anyone following me.
But I continued on anyways. I'd get home by another route.
I hoped that the mysterious man in the dark suit wouldn't be able to track me back to my apartment.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
The Trotting Titan
For those of you who have just discovered my blog, I will sum up my purpose in writing it, who I am, and where I've come from, just so you are not confused!
Main Facts About The Anonymous Titan:
1. I am an anonymous Student at CSUF. I'm sure you can figure out why I am called the Anonymous Titan.
2. I am writing this blog for several reasons:
a. Personal happiness.
b. To allow my readers a glimpse of College life.
c. To give my readers helpful Tips (about College and other Important things too!).
d. To receive large quantities of Fried Zucchini and Purple-Striped Socks from adoring readers.
e. For your happiness also, dear reader, but really, mostly for mine.
3. I am currently living in ___________, CA. Ha ha ha ha you will never ever everrrrrr know!
4. I move locations at least once a month. See?
5. But if you have Fried Zucchini or Purple-striped objects, leave them on the sundial at CSUF. Refer to "The Thorough Titan" post if you don't know where the sundial is.
6. I am an English major. This is precisely what I mean to say. I will use Big words in this blog, so keep your brains working.
And that is all you newcomers need to know.
Last night I was lying in bed, thinking about Ice Cream and wondering what time it was (my clock is all the way across the room, and it doesn't glow in the dark) when Hypnos rolled over on the bottom of my bed and sat up.
I stared at him. "What are you doing? It's nighttime! You should be asleep!"
Of course, I knew that cats are nocturnal animals, but I was so used to seeing Hypnos asleep that seeing him awake was an anomaly.
Hypnos yawned descriptively and sauntered across the bed to the windowsill. He pawed at the glass and turned his head to stare sternly at me.
"You can't go outside," I told him. "It's dark, lonesome, and windy out there."
Hypnos gazed at me, his green eyes penetrating. "Miaow," he said commandingly.
"Go back to sleep," I said. "You've been asleep all week; you can sleep some more."
My logic was rather backwards at this point, but it wasn't my fault. I had been working all day at my new job.
Yes, dear reader, I have a new job. This is because I have moved too far away to keep my old job. But don't worry, I managed to eat some Ice Cream before I left.
I am now working at my apartment.
I am working on cleaning.
I am cleaning the bathroom, the floor, the mattress, the few bits of furniture, and the windows. I have three large windows stretching across the left wall of my room, which is nice, except that they constantly gather spiderwebs.
So yesterday morning I got up and found an old vacuum cleaner and proceeded to suck each and every last spider and its subsequent web into the vacuum.
Then I went off to buy necessities.
Did you know that purple-striped couches are not really the craze right now?
So I bought a black one instead. I know that I'll have to leave it here when I move again, unless I hire one of those giant white truck things, but since I'd rather be inconspicuous, I don't really feel inclined to do so.
Besides, they look scary. And they probably smell bad.
Have you noticed that most trucks smell bad? It is strange.
I also bought:
1. 1 crate of frozen fried zucchini
2. 1 toothbrush (Don't worry, I already have one, but I thought having an extra would be smart!)
3. 6 new T-shirts, in various colors and shades (No purple stripes - they make you more noticeable in crowds. Only wear purple stripes where no one can see them.)
4. 7 cans of cat food
5. 1 massive bag of dry cat food
6. 1 pathetic-looking stuffed mouse, which Hypno disdainfully ignored
7. 2 cans of "Spider-Get-Away"
8. 1 bottle of Windex
9. 4 pairs of jeans
10. 1 new suitcase (black)
I also bought some other stuff, but since it was underwear and other unmentionable items, I won't mention them.
So how was your day yesterday?
I guess you don't want to tell me.
No matter. I bet your day was boring, just like mine was.
Anyways, I got back from my necessities shopping trip and lugged all my packages and bags up the stairs (I live on the seventeenth floor, and the one elevator here tends to stop halfway up the shaft), and finally made it into my apartment, but only after dropping a few fried zucchini strips down the last flight of stairs.
After rescuing them (and eating them), I unlocked my door and went inside.
Hypnos was asleep on the windowsill in a patch of sunlight, the windows were glistening with sparkly strands of spiderweb, the bed was made neatly, my fridge doors were shut, and the washer was humming merrily...
Wait!
Did I say - did I say - DID I SAY -
That there were spiderwebs on my windows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????
Dear reader, did I? Did you notice? Are you really reading or just skimming? Hmm? 'Cause if you are, go away. There are no skimmers allowed on my blog!!!
Anyways, I suppose I did say that there were spiderwebs on my windows.
And after I had just cleaned them!
So I went and got the vacuum, and vacuumed them - and their Spiders - all up again. I hope none of them crawl out of my vacuum bag and onto my windows again. Perhaps I should burn it in a magnificent Spider Bonfire Ceremony. But then I would have to buy a new vacuum bag.
Anyways, I vacuumed up the Spiders once more.
Which brings me back to the beginning of this post:
Hypnos yawned and pawed at the window again. Then he froze.
I sat up and frowned at him, feeling nervous, even though there was probably nothing out there. "What are you doing, Hypnos? C'mon, I'm tired. Let's go to bed."
Hypnos ignored me. He was staring out the window, his tail erect, his hair rippling menacingly up his back.
I got out of bed. If something was outside, I had to find something other than a pillow to fend it off with.
As I searched around the room for something blunt, wearing pajamas and sneaking glances at the windows every half a second, I finally realized that Hypnos was not staring through the window. He was staring at it.
I had a moment of pure terror as my eyes adjusted to this new perspective, and as something truly horrible came into view.
It was black and huge, with gleaming dark eyes and massive, hairy legs. Twin fangs hung down from its chin, and thick grey-black hair covered every inch of its seven-inch long body.
I think I might have let out a tiny scream.
The Spider had also frozen, as Hypnos was staring directly into its beady eyes with his own mesmerizing emerald ones.
At that moment, I wished that I hadn't used up my two cans of "Spider-Get-Away".
Now that I think about it, however, I doubt such measly liquid would have vanquished the Spider of Death.
So I ran for the door.
Dear reader, if you think this is a laughing matter, please stop doing so. And focus your attention on the computer screen. Focus on those little black words on that nice beige-colored background.
Think about it.
What if...
A. There was a horrible Spider on your window, right next to your bed.
B. It was nighttime.
C. The Spider was at least half a foot long.
D. You were alone, except for your cat, who was no help.
E. There were no weapons handy with which to bludgeon the Spider of Death to death.
F. It was dark and scary. Have I mentioned that yet? Dark and scary. Very.
Now fix your face into an expression of seriousness as you read this next sentence.
As I ran for the door, I shot a look over my shoulder, just in case the Spider of Death had leapt off the window past Hypnos and was pursuing me.
It was not, and Hypnos was still hypnotizing it with his hypnotically hypnotic gaze, but this did not matter, because I remained terrified.
As I flew down the apartment stairs and out into the night, I wondered vaguely if anyone would call the police if they saw me dashing down the center of the street in my purple-striped pajamas.
Later that night, I returned, armed with two heavy tree branches and a container of Super Glue, which I had bought from a 7-11.
The cashier there had given me an odd stare, but he still sold the Glue to me.
I crept up the stairs, lugging my branches and clutching my Glue to my chest, and hoping that the Spider of Death had not crawled closer so that he could murder me when I opened the door.
When I got to my floor, I snuck down the hall and stopped silently in front of my room.
I produced my key, slid it into the slot, and warily twisted the doorknob.
The windows were casting long rectangles of moonlight over the floor, illuminating two motionless figures.
One of the figures was Hypnos, and the other was my crate of fried zucchini, lying on its side.
Hypnos looked up as I rushed inside. I was too worried about my fried zucchini to even register that the Spider was nowhere to be seen.
After carefully picking up each and every piece, dusting them off, and packing them gently into the crate, I opened the fridge and slid it inside.
Then I turned to Hypnos.
"What were you do-"
I stopped.
There was something odd hanging out of Hypnos's mouth.
I drew closer, horribly fascinated, unable to stop myself.
The something came slowly into focus.
It was a great hairy black leg.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I cried, and leapt backwards, colliding with the open fridge door and dropping my can of Super Glue on my left pinky toe.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH my TOEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
My two branches rolled away into various corners of the room.
By the time I had collected myself, Hypnos was curled up on my pillow, sound asleep.
I spent the rest of the night in the hallway.
I guess today I'm not going to write about College, because I have already written enough.
What's that you say? You mean, you want me to write about College?
Why are you reading this blog again?
College Topic of the Day:
Boredom.
How to Stave Off Boredom in Class:
1. Listen to the Professor.
2. Take a nap.
3. Pass notes to your neighbors.
4. Study notes from another class.
5. Text someone.
6. Draw on your paper.
7. Write excerpts from your upcoming novel.
8. Imagine that you have to give a speech. That will wake you up.
9. Get up and leave.
10. Go to the restroom.
11. Eat some food.
12. Take out your laptop and watch Youtube videos.
13. Take out your laptop and take notes.
14. Take out your laptop and go on Facebook.
15. Take out your laptop and Skype.
16. Take out your laptop and ________.
17. Read a book.
18. Use different kinds of handwriting to write your notes in.
19. Make up a code using letters of the alphabet. Or draw new symbols for each letter.
20. Raise your hand and announce that you have just won the lottery.
Dear reader, that was a Quiz.
If you think 1, 13, and 18 are the best ways to learn in class...
You have Failed. And horribly, at that.
The Topic of the Day was Boredom, not How to Learn.
If you follow every tip except for 1 and 13, then you are an elite Crusher of Boredom.
Unless, of course, you find notes interesting.
Tips of the Day:
Tip #48: If you manage to make it through the night, everything seems a lot better in the morning. This is so true. This morning, after I woke up in the hallway with people stepping over me to go down the stairs, I yawned and stretched happily. Then I made my way back into my room, removed Hypnos from the top of the fridge, and proceeded to give him a bath. After that, I vacuumed the floor. There are no Spiders on my windows. Yet.
Tip #49: Summer is the best. Summer is the best because you are not in school, you can go to the beach and not freeze (unless you live in Alaska), you can buy Ice Cream and not freeze, you can swim in pools and not freeze, you can turn on your air conditioning and not freeze... On that note, my air conditioning is quite lovely.
Tip #50: Spiders are the worst. I thought about putting Super Glue all over my windows, so the Spiders would stick to it and die gruesomely, but then I remembered that they would stay there forever if I did that. There would be little Spider bodies pasted all over my nice clean windows, and it would look like I had Halloween decorations up early. So I didn't. But I still have my bottle of Glue. Maybe I will make something amazing with my two branches and my Super Glue.
I hope you are having a delightful evening.
Goodbye, dear reader.
I will see you, hopefully, tomorrow.
Main Facts About The Anonymous Titan:
1. I am an anonymous Student at CSUF. I'm sure you can figure out why I am called the Anonymous Titan.
2. I am writing this blog for several reasons:
a. Personal happiness.
b. To allow my readers a glimpse of College life.
c. To give my readers helpful Tips (about College and other Important things too!).
d. To receive large quantities of Fried Zucchini and Purple-Striped Socks from adoring readers.
e. For your happiness also, dear reader, but really, mostly for mine.
3. I am currently living in ___________, CA. Ha ha ha ha you will never ever everrrrrr know!
4. I move locations at least once a month. See?
5. But if you have Fried Zucchini or Purple-striped objects, leave them on the sundial at CSUF. Refer to "The Thorough Titan" post if you don't know where the sundial is.
6. I am an English major. This is precisely what I mean to say. I will use Big words in this blog, so keep your brains working.
And that is all you newcomers need to know.
Last night I was lying in bed, thinking about Ice Cream and wondering what time it was (my clock is all the way across the room, and it doesn't glow in the dark) when Hypnos rolled over on the bottom of my bed and sat up.
I stared at him. "What are you doing? It's nighttime! You should be asleep!"
Of course, I knew that cats are nocturnal animals, but I was so used to seeing Hypnos asleep that seeing him awake was an anomaly.
Hypnos yawned descriptively and sauntered across the bed to the windowsill. He pawed at the glass and turned his head to stare sternly at me.
"You can't go outside," I told him. "It's dark, lonesome, and windy out there."
Hypnos gazed at me, his green eyes penetrating. "Miaow," he said commandingly.
"Go back to sleep," I said. "You've been asleep all week; you can sleep some more."
My logic was rather backwards at this point, but it wasn't my fault. I had been working all day at my new job.
Yes, dear reader, I have a new job. This is because I have moved too far away to keep my old job. But don't worry, I managed to eat some Ice Cream before I left.
I am now working at my apartment.
I am working on cleaning.
I am cleaning the bathroom, the floor, the mattress, the few bits of furniture, and the windows. I have three large windows stretching across the left wall of my room, which is nice, except that they constantly gather spiderwebs.
So yesterday morning I got up and found an old vacuum cleaner and proceeded to suck each and every last spider and its subsequent web into the vacuum.
Then I went off to buy necessities.
Did you know that purple-striped couches are not really the craze right now?
So I bought a black one instead. I know that I'll have to leave it here when I move again, unless I hire one of those giant white truck things, but since I'd rather be inconspicuous, I don't really feel inclined to do so.
Besides, they look scary. And they probably smell bad.
Have you noticed that most trucks smell bad? It is strange.
I also bought:
1. 1 crate of frozen fried zucchini
2. 1 toothbrush (Don't worry, I already have one, but I thought having an extra would be smart!)
3. 6 new T-shirts, in various colors and shades (No purple stripes - they make you more noticeable in crowds. Only wear purple stripes where no one can see them.)
4. 7 cans of cat food
5. 1 massive bag of dry cat food
6. 1 pathetic-looking stuffed mouse, which Hypno disdainfully ignored
7. 2 cans of "Spider-Get-Away"
8. 1 bottle of Windex
9. 4 pairs of jeans
10. 1 new suitcase (black)
I also bought some other stuff, but since it was underwear and other unmentionable items, I won't mention them.
So how was your day yesterday?
I guess you don't want to tell me.
No matter. I bet your day was boring, just like mine was.
Anyways, I got back from my necessities shopping trip and lugged all my packages and bags up the stairs (I live on the seventeenth floor, and the one elevator here tends to stop halfway up the shaft), and finally made it into my apartment, but only after dropping a few fried zucchini strips down the last flight of stairs.
After rescuing them (and eating them), I unlocked my door and went inside.
Hypnos was asleep on the windowsill in a patch of sunlight, the windows were glistening with sparkly strands of spiderweb, the bed was made neatly, my fridge doors were shut, and the washer was humming merrily...
Wait!
Did I say - did I say - DID I SAY -
That there were spiderwebs on my windows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????
Dear reader, did I? Did you notice? Are you really reading or just skimming? Hmm? 'Cause if you are, go away. There are no skimmers allowed on my blog!!!
Anyways, I suppose I did say that there were spiderwebs on my windows.
And after I had just cleaned them!
So I went and got the vacuum, and vacuumed them - and their Spiders - all up again. I hope none of them crawl out of my vacuum bag and onto my windows again. Perhaps I should burn it in a magnificent Spider Bonfire Ceremony. But then I would have to buy a new vacuum bag.
Anyways, I vacuumed up the Spiders once more.
Which brings me back to the beginning of this post:
Hypnos yawned and pawed at the window again. Then he froze.
I sat up and frowned at him, feeling nervous, even though there was probably nothing out there. "What are you doing, Hypnos? C'mon, I'm tired. Let's go to bed."
Hypnos ignored me. He was staring out the window, his tail erect, his hair rippling menacingly up his back.
I got out of bed. If something was outside, I had to find something other than a pillow to fend it off with.
As I searched around the room for something blunt, wearing pajamas and sneaking glances at the windows every half a second, I finally realized that Hypnos was not staring through the window. He was staring at it.
I had a moment of pure terror as my eyes adjusted to this new perspective, and as something truly horrible came into view.
It was black and huge, with gleaming dark eyes and massive, hairy legs. Twin fangs hung down from its chin, and thick grey-black hair covered every inch of its seven-inch long body.
I think I might have let out a tiny scream.
The Spider had also frozen, as Hypnos was staring directly into its beady eyes with his own mesmerizing emerald ones.
At that moment, I wished that I hadn't used up my two cans of "Spider-Get-Away".
Now that I think about it, however, I doubt such measly liquid would have vanquished the Spider of Death.
So I ran for the door.
Dear reader, if you think this is a laughing matter, please stop doing so. And focus your attention on the computer screen. Focus on those little black words on that nice beige-colored background.
Think about it.
What if...
A. There was a horrible Spider on your window, right next to your bed.
B. It was nighttime.
C. The Spider was at least half a foot long.
D. You were alone, except for your cat, who was no help.
E. There were no weapons handy with which to bludgeon the Spider of Death to death.
F. It was dark and scary. Have I mentioned that yet? Dark and scary. Very.
Now fix your face into an expression of seriousness as you read this next sentence.
As I ran for the door, I shot a look over my shoulder, just in case the Spider of Death had leapt off the window past Hypnos and was pursuing me.
It was not, and Hypnos was still hypnotizing it with his hypnotically hypnotic gaze, but this did not matter, because I remained terrified.
As I flew down the apartment stairs and out into the night, I wondered vaguely if anyone would call the police if they saw me dashing down the center of the street in my purple-striped pajamas.
Later that night, I returned, armed with two heavy tree branches and a container of Super Glue, which I had bought from a 7-11.
The cashier there had given me an odd stare, but he still sold the Glue to me.
I crept up the stairs, lugging my branches and clutching my Glue to my chest, and hoping that the Spider of Death had not crawled closer so that he could murder me when I opened the door.
When I got to my floor, I snuck down the hall and stopped silently in front of my room.
I produced my key, slid it into the slot, and warily twisted the doorknob.
The windows were casting long rectangles of moonlight over the floor, illuminating two motionless figures.
One of the figures was Hypnos, and the other was my crate of fried zucchini, lying on its side.
Hypnos looked up as I rushed inside. I was too worried about my fried zucchini to even register that the Spider was nowhere to be seen.
After carefully picking up each and every piece, dusting them off, and packing them gently into the crate, I opened the fridge and slid it inside.
Then I turned to Hypnos.
"What were you do-"
I stopped.
There was something odd hanging out of Hypnos's mouth.
I drew closer, horribly fascinated, unable to stop myself.
The something came slowly into focus.
It was a great hairy black leg.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I cried, and leapt backwards, colliding with the open fridge door and dropping my can of Super Glue on my left pinky toe.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH my TOEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
My two branches rolled away into various corners of the room.
By the time I had collected myself, Hypnos was curled up on my pillow, sound asleep.
I spent the rest of the night in the hallway.
I guess today I'm not going to write about College, because I have already written enough.
What's that you say? You mean, you want me to write about College?
Why are you reading this blog again?
College Topic of the Day:
Boredom.
How to Stave Off Boredom in Class:
1. Listen to the Professor.
2. Take a nap.
3. Pass notes to your neighbors.
4. Study notes from another class.
5. Text someone.
6. Draw on your paper.
7. Write excerpts from your upcoming novel.
8. Imagine that you have to give a speech. That will wake you up.
9. Get up and leave.
10. Go to the restroom.
11. Eat some food.
12. Take out your laptop and watch Youtube videos.
13. Take out your laptop and take notes.
14. Take out your laptop and go on Facebook.
15. Take out your laptop and Skype.
16. Take out your laptop and ________.
17. Read a book.
18. Use different kinds of handwriting to write your notes in.
19. Make up a code using letters of the alphabet. Or draw new symbols for each letter.
20. Raise your hand and announce that you have just won the lottery.
Dear reader, that was a Quiz.
If you think 1, 13, and 18 are the best ways to learn in class...
You have Failed. And horribly, at that.
The Topic of the Day was Boredom, not How to Learn.
If you follow every tip except for 1 and 13, then you are an elite Crusher of Boredom.
Unless, of course, you find notes interesting.
Tips of the Day:
Tip #48: If you manage to make it through the night, everything seems a lot better in the morning. This is so true. This morning, after I woke up in the hallway with people stepping over me to go down the stairs, I yawned and stretched happily. Then I made my way back into my room, removed Hypnos from the top of the fridge, and proceeded to give him a bath. After that, I vacuumed the floor. There are no Spiders on my windows. Yet.
Tip #49: Summer is the best. Summer is the best because you are not in school, you can go to the beach and not freeze (unless you live in Alaska), you can buy Ice Cream and not freeze, you can swim in pools and not freeze, you can turn on your air conditioning and not freeze... On that note, my air conditioning is quite lovely.
Tip #50: Spiders are the worst. I thought about putting Super Glue all over my windows, so the Spiders would stick to it and die gruesomely, but then I remembered that they would stay there forever if I did that. There would be little Spider bodies pasted all over my nice clean windows, and it would look like I had Halloween decorations up early. So I didn't. But I still have my bottle of Glue. Maybe I will make something amazing with my two branches and my Super Glue.
I hope you are having a delightful evening.
Goodbye, dear reader.
I will see you, hopefully, tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Tall-Tale Titan
Dear reader, wouldn't it be nice if I was on a beach in Hawaii right now? Let me tell you: that would be bliss! Unfortunately, I am sitting in my dark and secret room with the curtains shut and the lights dimmed dramatically. But thankfully my air conditioning works very well.
Hypnos, in case you are wondering, is asleep on my feet. This is slightly uncomfortable, since he is rather warm, and also a bit inconvenient, but since he is so lovable, I don't mind that much.
I'm feeling a bit better since yesterday. I guess the loss of Tiffy had finally hit me.
But now I'm better.
Because of this, I would like to celebrate by telling you a story!
Once upon a time, there was a Princess, Princess Titania. She lived in the fabulous kingdom of Calia Statias Fullertonia, and her own special domain was the Castle of Gymnasia.
And oh, she was so happy. She had all the ellipticals, weights, treadmills, and lockers that she could ever want. She wandered through the empty, gleaming Castle of Gymnasia, tossing a blue ball from hand to hand and singing in her beautifully melodius voice.
Every day she would get up from her bed in the dance studio and pirouette through the upper floor, pausing to look over the track railing and admire the glittering fountain in the middle of the basketball court. After breakfast (fresh picked apples and cherries from the trees outside) she would go swimming in the Poolia de Wateria outside.
After lunch (fresh-baked bread, made each day in the massive oven in the second racquetball court, and more fruit) Princess Titania would sunbathe in the lawn chairs next to the Poolia de Wateria. In the evening she would dance for an hour in the studio, eat a light supper of chocolate cake and cherries, and then go to bed.
Her days were full and bright. She had only one woe.
She was lonely.
Yes, the joyful Princess of Calia Statias Fullertonia was lonely. She had a faithful duck named Donal who followed her everywhere, but what she truly desired was human companionship. She longed for true love.
Some days she left her Castle and went out into the sunlight, looking for something new, but even when she found it, she would eventually grow tired and bored and retreat into her home.
Today was one of those days, so Princess Titania packed a lunch and left the Castle of Gymnasia, Donal lagging at her heels and occasionally snapping at a bug.
She wandered under the jacaranda trees, past the ruins of Castle Humanitia and the McCarthia Monastery, pausing to pick some red roses next to the old University.
At that exact moment, a ferocious dragon swept down out of the sky, breathing crimson fire and snapping a mighty red-gold tail, and heading straight for her.
Princess Titania rolled away under the rosebushes, breathing hard and glancing around for a weapon. She spotted a long, pointed object sticking out of the foliage next to her. She snatched it up, realized it was a sword, and crawled out of the bushes, holding it aloft.
The dragon swooped out of the sky, opened its jaws, and a burst of flame engulfed the rosebush nearest her. Princess Titania lurched out of the way, hefted the sword in both hands, and drove the blade into the dragon's scaly hide as it tried to maneuver itself higher into the air.
It screamed in rage, agony, and wounded pride, and desperately beat its wings, determined to get away from the girl with the sword. Finally, it gained enough height to fly over McCarthia and disappear slowly into the blue sky.
Princess Titania dropped the sword and wiped her rust-covered hands on the skirt of her green dress, grinning to herself. She had wanted some adventure, and she had gotten it.
A voice spoke from her left. "Erm, uh, that was cool."
Titania spun around and stared at the handsome boy standing in front of her. "Oh, thanks. I'm Princess Titania. Who're you?"
"I didn't think anyone lived here," he mused, staring off in the direction of the Castle of Gymnasia. He looked back at her. "Sorry, I was daydreaming. I'm Prince Prospectoris, of Calis Statias Longis Beachias."
"Do you know," said Princess Titania dreamily, "that the person you meet on the first day of summer is destined to be your true love?"
"Yes," said Prince Prospectoris with an equally dreamy smile.
He gazed into her hazel eyes. She gazed into his blue-green eyes.
Then they kissed.
Donal hopped forward and bit Prince Prospectoris's boot. Prince Prospectoris leaned down and patted Donal's head, ignoring the fact that he was slobbering all over the top of his boot.
The three of them lived happily ever after.
The End.
I would like to inform you, dear reader, that this story is entirely fictional, for those of you who detest fairy tales. There is no Princess Titania, and she does not live in the gym. Although I must add that having a princess at our school would be interesting.
You may also notice other small discrepancies in the Tale of the Princess of Calis Statias Fullertonia, which I beg you to either ignore or appreciate, depending on your mood and the depth of your affection for CSUF. One of these discrepancies is the fountain in the center of the basketball court - all you basketball fanatics, fear not! There is really not a fountain, and nobody installed one while you were away for the summer.
The Topic for the Day:
Bananas.
I am currently on a banana craze. Bananas, dear reader, are incredibly wonderful.
Reasons Why Bananas Are Wonderful:
1. They are yellow.
2. They are delicious.
3. They are squishy.
4. They scare some select people.
5. They are pretty.
6. They can be peeled, like mangoes, apples, pears, turnips, and chocolate oranges. But they are cooler than all of these.
7. They can be different colors. Just look it up on Wikipedia!
8. You can make billions of things out of them... Tonight I am making banana splits! And I will also have Fried Zucchini and coffee!
Since, as certain readers constantly remind me, this is a College blog, I will now speak about College.
Hmm....
Today we will talk about the Gym!
As all CSUF Students know, going to the Gym is beneficial to your health!
I will not explain why.
Furthermore, the Gym is a hotspot for meeting people!
But only if you don't mind making conversation when you're panting on a treadmill or running down the track, because otherwise you might be quite uncomfortable.
Also, the Gym is new!
It is shiny, lovely, dazzling, brightly lit, gleaming white, metallic, squeaky clean, equipped with little turnstiles and hand scanners, a series of connecting rock walls, and nice people in uniforms that help you out when you lock your stuff in your locker and forget the combination.
Glittering glass, glowing greatly, gymlike!
Yummy, yacking, you, yippee-yay!
Mirrors, mounting-stairs, mighty mats, matches!
Yes, dear reader, that is what I think of the Gym.
Now you should go there yourself and find out what you think!
Tips of the Day:
Tip #45: Burn papers if they have important information on them. I'm afraid I didn't clear out my last room completely - last night I woke up from a nightmare about a scrap of white flapping in the wind from my open window. I hope that I am mistaken; otherwise I might be in trouble.
Tip #46: Never drink coffee before trying to sleep. If you have ever done this, you know why I am making it a Tip! So don't, if you haven't, and if you have, don't repeat it. I was soooo jitt-errrr-rryyyyy last ni-gghh-ttt...
Tip #47: If you are sad, go to the Zoo. Then throw food and candy wrappers into the lion exhibit, and run howling away when the Zookeepers yell at you. Then go to the monkey cages and make faces. When people give you strange looks, smirk at them and stick out your tongue. Then laugh maniacally and run away! Then, buy ice cream and give it to the penguins. If there aren't any, eat it yourself. Or hand it to sad-looking children.
Farewell, dearest reader.
Hypnos, in case you are wondering, is asleep on my feet. This is slightly uncomfortable, since he is rather warm, and also a bit inconvenient, but since he is so lovable, I don't mind that much.
I'm feeling a bit better since yesterday. I guess the loss of Tiffy had finally hit me.
But now I'm better.
Because of this, I would like to celebrate by telling you a story!
Once upon a time, there was a Princess, Princess Titania. She lived in the fabulous kingdom of Calia Statias Fullertonia, and her own special domain was the Castle of Gymnasia.
And oh, she was so happy. She had all the ellipticals, weights, treadmills, and lockers that she could ever want. She wandered through the empty, gleaming Castle of Gymnasia, tossing a blue ball from hand to hand and singing in her beautifully melodius voice.
Every day she would get up from her bed in the dance studio and pirouette through the upper floor, pausing to look over the track railing and admire the glittering fountain in the middle of the basketball court. After breakfast (fresh picked apples and cherries from the trees outside) she would go swimming in the Poolia de Wateria outside.
After lunch (fresh-baked bread, made each day in the massive oven in the second racquetball court, and more fruit) Princess Titania would sunbathe in the lawn chairs next to the Poolia de Wateria. In the evening she would dance for an hour in the studio, eat a light supper of chocolate cake and cherries, and then go to bed.
Her days were full and bright. She had only one woe.
She was lonely.
Yes, the joyful Princess of Calia Statias Fullertonia was lonely. She had a faithful duck named Donal who followed her everywhere, but what she truly desired was human companionship. She longed for true love.
Some days she left her Castle and went out into the sunlight, looking for something new, but even when she found it, she would eventually grow tired and bored and retreat into her home.
Today was one of those days, so Princess Titania packed a lunch and left the Castle of Gymnasia, Donal lagging at her heels and occasionally snapping at a bug.
She wandered under the jacaranda trees, past the ruins of Castle Humanitia and the McCarthia Monastery, pausing to pick some red roses next to the old University.
At that exact moment, a ferocious dragon swept down out of the sky, breathing crimson fire and snapping a mighty red-gold tail, and heading straight for her.
Princess Titania rolled away under the rosebushes, breathing hard and glancing around for a weapon. She spotted a long, pointed object sticking out of the foliage next to her. She snatched it up, realized it was a sword, and crawled out of the bushes, holding it aloft.
The dragon swooped out of the sky, opened its jaws, and a burst of flame engulfed the rosebush nearest her. Princess Titania lurched out of the way, hefted the sword in both hands, and drove the blade into the dragon's scaly hide as it tried to maneuver itself higher into the air.
It screamed in rage, agony, and wounded pride, and desperately beat its wings, determined to get away from the girl with the sword. Finally, it gained enough height to fly over McCarthia and disappear slowly into the blue sky.
Princess Titania dropped the sword and wiped her rust-covered hands on the skirt of her green dress, grinning to herself. She had wanted some adventure, and she had gotten it.
A voice spoke from her left. "Erm, uh, that was cool."
Titania spun around and stared at the handsome boy standing in front of her. "Oh, thanks. I'm Princess Titania. Who're you?"
"I didn't think anyone lived here," he mused, staring off in the direction of the Castle of Gymnasia. He looked back at her. "Sorry, I was daydreaming. I'm Prince Prospectoris, of Calis Statias Longis Beachias."
"Do you know," said Princess Titania dreamily, "that the person you meet on the first day of summer is destined to be your true love?"
"Yes," said Prince Prospectoris with an equally dreamy smile.
He gazed into her hazel eyes. She gazed into his blue-green eyes.
Then they kissed.
Donal hopped forward and bit Prince Prospectoris's boot. Prince Prospectoris leaned down and patted Donal's head, ignoring the fact that he was slobbering all over the top of his boot.
The three of them lived happily ever after.
The End.
I would like to inform you, dear reader, that this story is entirely fictional, for those of you who detest fairy tales. There is no Princess Titania, and she does not live in the gym. Although I must add that having a princess at our school would be interesting.
You may also notice other small discrepancies in the Tale of the Princess of Calis Statias Fullertonia, which I beg you to either ignore or appreciate, depending on your mood and the depth of your affection for CSUF. One of these discrepancies is the fountain in the center of the basketball court - all you basketball fanatics, fear not! There is really not a fountain, and nobody installed one while you were away for the summer.
The Topic for the Day:
Bananas.
I am currently on a banana craze. Bananas, dear reader, are incredibly wonderful.
Reasons Why Bananas Are Wonderful:
1. They are yellow.
2. They are delicious.
3. They are squishy.
4. They scare some select people.
5. They are pretty.
6. They can be peeled, like mangoes, apples, pears, turnips, and chocolate oranges. But they are cooler than all of these.
7. They can be different colors. Just look it up on Wikipedia!
8. You can make billions of things out of them... Tonight I am making banana splits! And I will also have Fried Zucchini and coffee!
Since, as certain readers constantly remind me, this is a College blog, I will now speak about College.
Hmm....
Today we will talk about the Gym!
As all CSUF Students know, going to the Gym is beneficial to your health!
I will not explain why.
Furthermore, the Gym is a hotspot for meeting people!
But only if you don't mind making conversation when you're panting on a treadmill or running down the track, because otherwise you might be quite uncomfortable.
Also, the Gym is new!
It is shiny, lovely, dazzling, brightly lit, gleaming white, metallic, squeaky clean, equipped with little turnstiles and hand scanners, a series of connecting rock walls, and nice people in uniforms that help you out when you lock your stuff in your locker and forget the combination.
Glittering glass, glowing greatly, gymlike!
Yummy, yacking, you, yippee-yay!
Mirrors, mounting-stairs, mighty mats, matches!
Yes, dear reader, that is what I think of the Gym.
Now you should go there yourself and find out what you think!
Tips of the Day:
Tip #45: Burn papers if they have important information on them. I'm afraid I didn't clear out my last room completely - last night I woke up from a nightmare about a scrap of white flapping in the wind from my open window. I hope that I am mistaken; otherwise I might be in trouble.
Tip #46: Never drink coffee before trying to sleep. If you have ever done this, you know why I am making it a Tip! So don't, if you haven't, and if you have, don't repeat it. I was soooo jitt-errrr-rryyyyy last ni-gghh-ttt...
Tip #47: If you are sad, go to the Zoo. Then throw food and candy wrappers into the lion exhibit, and run howling away when the Zookeepers yell at you. Then go to the monkey cages and make faces. When people give you strange looks, smirk at them and stick out your tongue. Then laugh maniacally and run away! Then, buy ice cream and give it to the penguins. If there aren't any, eat it yourself. Or hand it to sad-looking children.
Farewell, dearest reader.
Monday, June 20, 2011
The Torpid Titan
The Evil Math Professor looked at me from over the rows of students, his lips pursed in mild disgust.
"Anonymous Titan, what, I repeat, what is the answer to question three?"
I sat up with a start, my hood sliding off with the movement, and realized that he had called my name twice.
"Oh. Sorry. It's..." I checked my homework. "It's fifty-two."
There was the sound of muffled snickers around me. My ears burned.
The girl in front of me tossed her hair dramatically, and raised her hand just before the Evil Math Professor's face mashed itself into a scowl.
"Incorrect, Anonymous Titan," he snipped at me, his eyes narrow slits. "Yes, Ms. Mathisen?"
"The answer is forty-two, sir," the girl in front of me said brightly, and flipped her hair again.
I fought the urge to slouch down in my chair and die.
"That is correct, Ms. Mathisen," the Evil Math Professor announced. "Does anyone know the answer to question four? What about you, Mr. Frederickson?"
The guy three seats over and one back stared at his paper, hopelessly lost. "I... I don't know."
"Did you do the assignment, Mr. Frederickson?"
"Well, yes... But I didn't get number four."
"See me after class, Mr. Frederickson." The Evil Math Professor pursed his lips again, searching for more prey. He pounced. "What about you, Ms. Eagle?"
Ms. Eagle scratched her head and then rubbed the side of her nose. "Sixty-three point five?" she guessed.
He winced. "No. Mr. King?"
"Seventy-one?"
"No. Did anyone actually do number four?"
There was silence. Someone rustled their papers.
"Fine. What about number five? Who did number five?"
The girl in front of me raised her hand again. "Fifteen."
"Correct, Ms. Mathisen. Does someone else have number six? What about you, Mr. Goyle?"
"I think it's twenty-nine, sir."
"No. Mr. Hall?"
"Twenty-eight?"
"Definitely not. What about you, Anonymous Titan?"
I raised my head, glanced at him, and down at my paper. "Thirty-one."
"No! Ms. Gilbert!"
The startled girl jumped and reached for her homework. She flipped through it, found number six, and murmured, "Five, sir."
"What's that?"
"I think it's five, sir."
"Thank you, Ms. Gilbert."
The class breathed a collective sigh of relief. The Evil Math Professor eyed us, frowned, looked at the clock, and threw up his hands in a gesture of utter despair.
"Class dismissed. Mr. Frederickson, come up here."
The poor Mr. Frederickson shoved his things into his backpack and went miserably up to the front, sidestepping Students and taking deep breaths.
I hurriedly made my way to the door, and was about to slip out when I heard my name.
"Anonymous Titan!"
I turned, my stomach sinking down into my purple-striped socks. The girl that sat in front of me was holding out a dark blue folder.
"I think you dropped this."
"Oh." I took it from her, and attempted to smile. I had thought that the Evil Math Professor was calling my name. "Thanks."
I hurried towards the door once more, but now there was a mass of Students in the way.
"Anonymous Titan!"
This time I gritted my teeth. It was definitely the Evil Math Professor's voice, as it was nasally and grating on my nerves.
I turned. "Yes?"
"I'd like to see you in my Office Hours this evening. McCarthy Hall, Rm 653, from 6-7 pm."
"Um, sure," I said, without thinking.
His beady black eyes narrowed. "I expect you to be there, Anonymous Titan. It would be awful if you were to miss our little appointment."
"Right," I said, hurriedly, and made for the door.
Later that day I trudged unhappily up the stairs in McCarthy, feeling nauseous.
When I reached the sixth floor, I walked along the halls, looking for Rm 653. When I found it I stood outside for a moment, weighing my options.
1. Don't go in. Then he can ridicule you in class later and probably lower your grade.
2. Go to the nearest window and jump (after strapping a parachute to your back). Accept that he will ridicule you in class and probably lower your grade.
3. Go inside and face the consequences.
I had hoped for a fourth option, but it did not appear.
I reached forward and twisted the doorknob. It was now exactly 6:00 pm.
The Evil Math Professor was sitting in his chair, his back perfectly straight. He had lined up three sharpened pencils next to each other on the top of his desk. Next to them sat a stack of blank white paper. Next to those sat the math textbook. And next to that sat a paper with lines and numbers and a name. My grades.
"Please take a seat," he said, indicating a chair in front of the desk.
I sat, since my knees were feeling weak, and thought about how nice it was that I had left the door open. That way, if he decided to kill me, passerby might notice and stop him.
"We will be working on sections 4.5 and 4.6 today."
"Excuse me," I said. My voice came out squeaky. I cleared my throat. "Why, exactly? Why did you want me to be at your Office Hours?"
"To work on Math, of course," the Evil Math Professor practically spat.
"Uh," I said. How come my verbosity always fails me at times like these? I thought.
"So, let's turn to page 110." He reached for the textbook, turned it around, and opened it.
I gazed at the diagrams on the glossy page. They seemed much more complicated than usual. "Uh, Professor, I seem to recall that I did pretty well on sections 4.5 and 4.6."
"Your grades speak otherwise, Anonymous Titan. Shall we take a look?"
His fat white fingers reached for the marked-up paper. I bit my lip. "No, no, I'm sure you're right."
He picked up a pencil and a piece of white paper instead. "Then let us begin."
Are you confused, dear reader?
Are you afraid that right now I am sitting in a little dingy office, listening to an Evil Math Professor talk about horrible things like diagrams and graphs and invisible (no, wait) imaginary numbers?
But am I? Am I, really?
NO!
That was all an awful dream that I had last night. I thought you might like to hear about it, so I wrote it down. It seems even worse on paper than in my head.
Luckily, I woke up before I could start doing math problems.
But since I had this terrifying dream, let me quickly reassure you that this fabricated experience is not really what Office Hours are like.
Topic of the Day:
Office Hours!
Office Hours are helpful things that allow you to talk to your Professors and gain valuable wisdom.
Reasons Why Office Hours are Good for You:
1. You get to know your Professor. (If you really like them, and they really like you, later they can write Letters of Recommendation for you if you want to go to Grad School. Of course, it helps quite a bit if you did well in their class.)
2. You learn more about your Class. (They will give you helpful hints - mostly - and help you understand what they are teaching about, and why.)
3. You may begin to understand them. (This is always good, as Professors may seem rather unreachable or intimidating at times.)
4. You may do better in Class. (Clearly, this should be one of your main objectives.)
5. You may make a Good Friend. (Now tell me, who doesn't like Friends??)
Now that I have given you a new understanding (or maybe enforced an old one) I will jump topics.
I have moved once more, to a pleasantly quiet neighborhood in __________, CA.
This was necessary for a few reasons:
1. I thought it was about time to go traveling again.
2. There was an awful lot of noisy cawing last night, and I couldn't sleep. So I packed up all my things (oddly enough, the cawing stopped just before I left) and biked to my new location.
3. I was beginning to feel antsy.
4. My air conditioning really did not work at all.
5. I wanted to get an apartment that allowed pets.
Reason #5 is because I have bought a cat.
Isn't it wonderful?
Yes, I now own a cat. He is black all over, and his name is Hypnos. This is because, like the Greek god of the same name, he is always asleep.
He sleeps on my bed, he sleeps on the floor, he sleeps on the fridge, he sleeps on the windowsill, he sleeps on the table, he sleeps on my purple-striped socks (and then I remove him). However, no crows have come calling lately. Perhaps he will act as my own live scarecrow.
Except he's a cat.
And he's always asleep.
Hypnos, despite his somnolence, is a very good pet. He does not bark, screech, yowl, or growl, and he is already potty-trained, so he does not disturb the cleanliness of my floor. He does not scratch furniture or deface my property. Overall, he is a fine cat.
Hopefully his presence will help me get over Tiffy.
Sniff. Excuse me.
I'm back. Sniff. Thank you for waiting. I feel that I should take the rest of the night off, so here are your tips. Sniff.
Tips for the Day:
Tip #41: When you are biking, wear something more than flip-flops, even if you have purple-striped socks on. Flip-flops tend to fall off, and you have to stop your bike and snatch for them. Then the cars driving past zoom very fast and laugh cruelly at you while you flail.
Tip #42: Always do your homework. I hope that you figured this out from my dream. It is the moral. If you do not do your homework (like Mr. Frederickson) you will be shamed. Most likely, publicly. If you are not shamed publicly, you are shamed privately, by yourself. If you are not shamed at all, you will be in the future. Remember this next time you are shamed: Everyone is shamed at least once in their lifetime, so don't feel too sad.
Tip #43: Fried zucchini, no matter how cold or how old or how hot or how moldy, is always welcome. Find the sundial.... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial...
Tip #44: Brush your teeth every day.
Farewell, dear reader.
Hypnos says goodnight. (At least, I think he did. He rolled over and meowed in his sleep. We'll accept his contribution to my blog.)
Isn't he adorable??
"Anonymous Titan, what, I repeat, what is the answer to question three?"
I sat up with a start, my hood sliding off with the movement, and realized that he had called my name twice.
"Oh. Sorry. It's..." I checked my homework. "It's fifty-two."
There was the sound of muffled snickers around me. My ears burned.
The girl in front of me tossed her hair dramatically, and raised her hand just before the Evil Math Professor's face mashed itself into a scowl.
"Incorrect, Anonymous Titan," he snipped at me, his eyes narrow slits. "Yes, Ms. Mathisen?"
"The answer is forty-two, sir," the girl in front of me said brightly, and flipped her hair again.
I fought the urge to slouch down in my chair and die.
"That is correct, Ms. Mathisen," the Evil Math Professor announced. "Does anyone know the answer to question four? What about you, Mr. Frederickson?"
The guy three seats over and one back stared at his paper, hopelessly lost. "I... I don't know."
"Did you do the assignment, Mr. Frederickson?"
"Well, yes... But I didn't get number four."
"See me after class, Mr. Frederickson." The Evil Math Professor pursed his lips again, searching for more prey. He pounced. "What about you, Ms. Eagle?"
Ms. Eagle scratched her head and then rubbed the side of her nose. "Sixty-three point five?" she guessed.
He winced. "No. Mr. King?"
"Seventy-one?"
"No. Did anyone actually do number four?"
There was silence. Someone rustled their papers.
"Fine. What about number five? Who did number five?"
The girl in front of me raised her hand again. "Fifteen."
"Correct, Ms. Mathisen. Does someone else have number six? What about you, Mr. Goyle?"
"I think it's twenty-nine, sir."
"No. Mr. Hall?"
"Twenty-eight?"
"Definitely not. What about you, Anonymous Titan?"
I raised my head, glanced at him, and down at my paper. "Thirty-one."
"No! Ms. Gilbert!"
The startled girl jumped and reached for her homework. She flipped through it, found number six, and murmured, "Five, sir."
"What's that?"
"I think it's five, sir."
"Thank you, Ms. Gilbert."
The class breathed a collective sigh of relief. The Evil Math Professor eyed us, frowned, looked at the clock, and threw up his hands in a gesture of utter despair.
"Class dismissed. Mr. Frederickson, come up here."
The poor Mr. Frederickson shoved his things into his backpack and went miserably up to the front, sidestepping Students and taking deep breaths.
I hurriedly made my way to the door, and was about to slip out when I heard my name.
"Anonymous Titan!"
I turned, my stomach sinking down into my purple-striped socks. The girl that sat in front of me was holding out a dark blue folder.
"I think you dropped this."
"Oh." I took it from her, and attempted to smile. I had thought that the Evil Math Professor was calling my name. "Thanks."
I hurried towards the door once more, but now there was a mass of Students in the way.
"Anonymous Titan!"
This time I gritted my teeth. It was definitely the Evil Math Professor's voice, as it was nasally and grating on my nerves.
I turned. "Yes?"
"I'd like to see you in my Office Hours this evening. McCarthy Hall, Rm 653, from 6-7 pm."
"Um, sure," I said, without thinking.
His beady black eyes narrowed. "I expect you to be there, Anonymous Titan. It would be awful if you were to miss our little appointment."
"Right," I said, hurriedly, and made for the door.
Later that day I trudged unhappily up the stairs in McCarthy, feeling nauseous.
When I reached the sixth floor, I walked along the halls, looking for Rm 653. When I found it I stood outside for a moment, weighing my options.
1. Don't go in. Then he can ridicule you in class later and probably lower your grade.
2. Go to the nearest window and jump (after strapping a parachute to your back). Accept that he will ridicule you in class and probably lower your grade.
3. Go inside and face the consequences.
I had hoped for a fourth option, but it did not appear.
I reached forward and twisted the doorknob. It was now exactly 6:00 pm.
The Evil Math Professor was sitting in his chair, his back perfectly straight. He had lined up three sharpened pencils next to each other on the top of his desk. Next to them sat a stack of blank white paper. Next to those sat the math textbook. And next to that sat a paper with lines and numbers and a name. My grades.
"Please take a seat," he said, indicating a chair in front of the desk.
I sat, since my knees were feeling weak, and thought about how nice it was that I had left the door open. That way, if he decided to kill me, passerby might notice and stop him.
"We will be working on sections 4.5 and 4.6 today."
"Excuse me," I said. My voice came out squeaky. I cleared my throat. "Why, exactly? Why did you want me to be at your Office Hours?"
"To work on Math, of course," the Evil Math Professor practically spat.
"Uh," I said. How come my verbosity always fails me at times like these? I thought.
"So, let's turn to page 110." He reached for the textbook, turned it around, and opened it.
I gazed at the diagrams on the glossy page. They seemed much more complicated than usual. "Uh, Professor, I seem to recall that I did pretty well on sections 4.5 and 4.6."
"Your grades speak otherwise, Anonymous Titan. Shall we take a look?"
His fat white fingers reached for the marked-up paper. I bit my lip. "No, no, I'm sure you're right."
He picked up a pencil and a piece of white paper instead. "Then let us begin."
Are you confused, dear reader?
Are you afraid that right now I am sitting in a little dingy office, listening to an Evil Math Professor talk about horrible things like diagrams and graphs and invisible (no, wait) imaginary numbers?
But am I? Am I, really?
NO!
That was all an awful dream that I had last night. I thought you might like to hear about it, so I wrote it down. It seems even worse on paper than in my head.
Luckily, I woke up before I could start doing math problems.
But since I had this terrifying dream, let me quickly reassure you that this fabricated experience is not really what Office Hours are like.
Topic of the Day:
Office Hours!
Office Hours are helpful things that allow you to talk to your Professors and gain valuable wisdom.
Reasons Why Office Hours are Good for You:
1. You get to know your Professor. (If you really like them, and they really like you, later they can write Letters of Recommendation for you if you want to go to Grad School. Of course, it helps quite a bit if you did well in their class.)
2. You learn more about your Class. (They will give you helpful hints - mostly - and help you understand what they are teaching about, and why.)
3. You may begin to understand them. (This is always good, as Professors may seem rather unreachable or intimidating at times.)
4. You may do better in Class. (Clearly, this should be one of your main objectives.)
5. You may make a Good Friend. (Now tell me, who doesn't like Friends??)
Now that I have given you a new understanding (or maybe enforced an old one) I will jump topics.
I have moved once more, to a pleasantly quiet neighborhood in __________, CA.
This was necessary for a few reasons:
1. I thought it was about time to go traveling again.
2. There was an awful lot of noisy cawing last night, and I couldn't sleep. So I packed up all my things (oddly enough, the cawing stopped just before I left) and biked to my new location.
3. I was beginning to feel antsy.
4. My air conditioning really did not work at all.
5. I wanted to get an apartment that allowed pets.
Reason #5 is because I have bought a cat.
Isn't it wonderful?
Yes, I now own a cat. He is black all over, and his name is Hypnos. This is because, like the Greek god of the same name, he is always asleep.
He sleeps on my bed, he sleeps on the floor, he sleeps on the fridge, he sleeps on the windowsill, he sleeps on the table, he sleeps on my purple-striped socks (and then I remove him). However, no crows have come calling lately. Perhaps he will act as my own live scarecrow.
Except he's a cat.
And he's always asleep.
Hypnos, despite his somnolence, is a very good pet. He does not bark, screech, yowl, or growl, and he is already potty-trained, so he does not disturb the cleanliness of my floor. He does not scratch furniture or deface my property. Overall, he is a fine cat.
Hopefully his presence will help me get over Tiffy.
Sniff. Excuse me.
I'm back. Sniff. Thank you for waiting. I feel that I should take the rest of the night off, so here are your tips. Sniff.
Tips for the Day:
Tip #41: When you are biking, wear something more than flip-flops, even if you have purple-striped socks on. Flip-flops tend to fall off, and you have to stop your bike and snatch for them. Then the cars driving past zoom very fast and laugh cruelly at you while you flail.
Tip #42: Always do your homework. I hope that you figured this out from my dream. It is the moral. If you do not do your homework (like Mr. Frederickson) you will be shamed. Most likely, publicly. If you are not shamed publicly, you are shamed privately, by yourself. If you are not shamed at all, you will be in the future. Remember this next time you are shamed: Everyone is shamed at least once in their lifetime, so don't feel too sad.
Tip #43: Fried zucchini, no matter how cold or how old or how hot or how moldy, is always welcome. Find the sundial.... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial... Find the sundial...
Tip #44: Brush your teeth every day.
Farewell, dear reader.
Hypnos says goodnight. (At least, I think he did. He rolled over and meowed in his sleep. We'll accept his contribution to my blog.)
Isn't he adorable??
The Targeted Titan
Agent II:
The only reason I am not firing you is because I also lack funds, and I have no time in which to find another, more skilled employee.
I advise you to stay in ___ _______ and attempt to locate the target.
I will arrive in ___ ________ in less than two days. Meet me at the ______ Shop at __ pm on ________.
The Targeted Titan
S.A. Montague:
The payment has been received. My car is currently being worked on, and the repairs will take more than a week.
I would rent another vehicle, but I lack the funds to do so.
I am sorry to say that the target has mysteriously vanished.
The Targeted Titan
Agent II:
It is with great displeasure that I am sending you this message.
I am enclosing $____.00 for your repairs. Hopefully you will fix your car before the target leaves. I suggest you hurry.
If you fail once more I will consider finding a more capable employee.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The Targeted Titan
S.A. Montague:
I regret to inform you that the target remains elusive.
If possible, I would like a second day in ___ ________, but my car seems to have broken down.
Please contact me as soon as possible with another payment. Otherwise I will be stranded in ___ ________ until further notice.
The Targeted Titan
The Agent sat down in the donut shop and eyed the glass display. It was dark outside the little, well-lit store, and there were no other customers inside.
"Would you like to order anything, sir?" The young cashier smiled expectantly at him, obviously used to late-night customers.
"No, no thanks." He shook his head, and then thought better of it. "Just a cup of coffee."
She poured it for him and handed the cup over. "A dollar and twenty-nine cents, please."
He handed her the money. "Keep the change."
"Are you from out of town, sir?" she asked, noting his dark suit and thick briefcase.
"Yes," he said, curtly.
He drank deeply from his cup and looked out the window.
The cashier turned away and reached for a rag to wipe the counter. Her late-night customer clearly didn't want to make conversation.
When he got up to leave, she said, "Goodnight, sir."
As he paused, silhouetted and grim in the doorway, she suddenly thought that he reminded her of an assassin.
But then he leaned back into the light, and the effect was lost. "Goodnight."
As he strode away down the street, she wondered why he had come to a donut shop if all he had wanted was a cup of coffee.
On foot, he reached the apartment buildings within ten minutes.
Setting his briefcase down on the sidewalk, he looked up at the __________ Apartments, tugging unconsciously at his right earlobe.
Then he knelt down on the sidewalk, opened his briefcase, and took out a pair of binoculars.
There was a rustle in the bushes behind him.
He got to his feet, still holding the binoculars, and turned around.
A crow hopped out of the bushes, cocked its head at him, and opened its beak menacingly.
"CAW."
"Go away," the Agent said irritably. "Shoo."
He turned around again, closed his briefcase, stood up, and looked through his binoculars, pointing them at the second story of the apartment building.
But he couldn't see anything, as the crow had just landed on his head. Its tail feathers hung down over the lenses.
The Agent waved his arms wildly and managed to knock the crow off, but not before it had defecated liberally on his head.
A half hour later, the Agent dropped his binoculars back into his briefcase and stormed off, furious. A veritable flock of crows had surrounded him, cawing noisily and defecating on every surface they could reach.
Someone had called the police, and he could hear the sirens blaring off in the distance, so he began to run, his briefcase banging against his left shin at every stride.
He only hoped he could make it back to his car before the birds found it, too.
The Targeted Titan
Agent II:
I remain unsatisfied, and your assignment remains unchanged.
Is it too much to ask to actually locate and capture the target?
The new address appears to be somewhere in ___ ________, CA. Please follow instructions this time.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
The Truthful Titan
I have no idea what I was thinking yesterday!
Today, I was walking down the street, heading past the Donut Shop, when I saw a familiar figure going inside with his hands in his pockets.
It was the angry man from yesterday.
As I passed the window of the Shop, I pulled my hood up. It would do no good if he recognized me. Then I walked very very fast down the street. I was heading for the pastry shop on the corner. I had decided that I would have delicious Danish pastries today! They were very delish, by the way.
Now that I think about it, I nearly eradicated my whole Spy persona yesterday.
As a Spy, I am not supposed to be noticed. I should be silent, stealthy, and always listening. I do not stand up in the middle of Donut Shops and yell at angry customers. I do not get thanked by grateful cashiers. I do not advertise my presence at all.
I am ashamed to say I failed yesterday. I have never failed before. It is pathetic.
Sniff.
Thankfully, there was no one else in the Donut Shop. And I plan to never return, so the only two people who saw me act erratically are two people who will eventually forget about me and move on with their respective lives.
I'm sure the cashier told her boss about the angry man, so I know they can handle the angry guy.
They don't need me.
I'm sure.
The Anonymous Titan would like to interrupt this post with a news bulletin:
Today I made some more fried zucchini because I was tired of waiting for the mail to arrive. Of course, right after I finished cooking, waiting for them to cool, finding various utensils to eat with, and beginning to eat them, the doorbell rang.
Sitting outside was my package of fried zucchini.
Finally.
Now I have a considerable amount of it! But I wish the mail had come sooner - I now have three burns on my left arm and one on my right thumb. Ow...
Thankfully, the crow has not come back. I made sure to shut all the windows last night, even though my air conditioner doesn't work, and it's nearly 100 degrees outside.
Sigh... stupid bird.
I keep finding more poop deposits in my room. There was even one inside my laptop bag.
Argh...
The Topic of the Day:
Professors' Rules
There are a few Standard Rules that every professor follows:
1. No Electronic Devices (except Laptops, occasionally)
2. No Eating (Although one professor allowed us to! We liked him...)
3. No Talking When the Professor Is Speaking
I have a few rules that I think every professor should follow:
1. No Cellphones, Even if the Professor Cannot See Them (such as iPods, mp3 players, cell phones, cameras, video cameras, video games, etc. But if you have them in your backpack - and your backpack on the floor - I suppose that's all right.)
2. No Laptops (People don't only write notes...)
3. No Leaving in the Middle of Class (People have actually done this. I am always freakishly appalled when this happens. Why did they come in the first place if they're only going to walk out halfway through??)
4. No Talking, Unless the Professor Calls on You (I always hear whispered conversations in class, which is very distracting, as I feel obligated to eavesdrop.)
5. No Rude Comments
6. No Ring Ring Ring Ring/Beep Beep Beep/La La La La Noises from Electronic Devices (but this goes with Rule #1, so I guess you can ignore it.)
7. No Pets
8. No Dumb People
9. No Mean People
10. No Inattentive People
12. No Annoying People (Rule #11, No Ugly People, I beg you to ignore. It was rude and unfounded. Please accept my sincerest apologies.)
I suppose that those are the last of my rules, although I'm sure that if I continue going to class I will discover more.
Professors, those brave and usually unusually intelligent people, are held in high regard by myself, as they have a complicated and people-centered job. I admire them, but I must say that sometimes I feel they need to fix a few things.
But you're only a Student! you might say.
Dear reader, of course you are right. It's only that sometimes I know I can do certain things better.
For example, there is one glaring problem that professors sometimes have:
Group Projects.
Dear reader, there are many things wrong with Group Projects:
The first problem with the Problem of Group Projects are its Categories of Students:
1. The Slacker (There's one in (almost) every group. If you don't believe me, just wait. If you have never had this Category in your Group Project before, you haven't missed anything.)
2. The Know-It-All (This person usually ends up being a leader, if your Group Project is missing Category #3. This is never a good thing. I strongly implore you to avoid Know-It-Alls when choosing your group, if at all possible.)
3. The Team Leader (This is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Some of these are Know-It-Alls, and some of these are Intelligent Ones - or they can be both - but I suggest you attempt to form a democracy, not a dictatorship, or you might end up being unhappy.)
4. The Oblivious One (This is the person who has no idea what is going on. See #5.)
5. The Bored One (This is the person who finds everything uninteresting and thus fails to pay attention to anything. See #4.)
6. The Helpful One (If you have one of these people in your group, then you are set for success. Keep him/her close. They may not be a Team Leader or even an Intelligent One, but I guarantee they will be helpful. Ha ha ha.)
7. The Intelligent One (Yes! Get him/her in your group! They are the ones who have paid attention to the instructions, begun thinking about the project already, and who will provide balance to either the Know-It-All or the Team Leader, keeping them - and your project - on task.)
Another problem with Group Projects is the professor's manner of choosing them.
Sometimes your Professor may say, "Students, please get into groups of four."
Then you choose all your friends to be in your group with you, and instead of working on anything, all you do is talk and joke and mess around.
This is bad.
Other times your Professor may say, "Students, I will assign you to groups of four."
Then your Professor wastes valuable time numbering you off and putting you in groups. Or your Professor picks various rows and has them team up to work together.
Also, you may be stuck with a Know-It-All or a Slacker.
This is bad also.
Furthermore, Group Projects cause tension.
It is hard for groups of people to come up with a good project and yet avoid creating conflict. It is also bad, however, if there is no conflict but a bad project.
Really, Professors! I implore you not to use this banal and lazy way of teaching!
Group Projects, though you may believe that they promote teamwork and communication, instead hinder these two things! Group Projects are singularly unhelpful, especially if you are an intelligent Student who always works hard and is forced to deal with people like Slackers, Bored Ones, or Oblivious Ones, thus putting your Grade in peril.
As a Student, I know the terrors and faults of Group Projects firsthand.
So you will do well to remember this message:
Ban Group Projects.
Now I will interrupt my musing to write about something else:
Names.
Has it occurred to you, dear reader, that everyone on this planet has a name?
I think they do, at least. Hmm...
Names define us!
My name, dear reader, defines me.
You think of me as The Anonymous Titan.
So, to you, I am mysterious and hidden. I am always sneaky, cunning, and fascinating.
If I referred to myself with my real name, you would not find me as interesting.
Therefore, if you are expecting me to eventually reveal my true name...
You will be sadly disappointed.
I thought I had better clear that up.
If you want to throw bird poop at your computer screen now, I give you permission.
I am soooooo evil.
Tips of the Day:
Tip #37: Keep your laptops close, but your stuffed elephants even closer.
Tip #38: Be happy, not stupid. This was told to me by a good friend. It is best, of course, to be happy, but even better to be smart. I suggest you follow this advice closely.
Tip #39: Go outside, get in your car, drive to the supermarket, and pick me up some fried zucchini. Then drive to Cal State Fullerton and put it on the sundial. You will be soooo happy.
Tip #40: This is not a tip. I just wanted to write "Tip #40" because it makes me happy. Soon you too, dear reader, will be happy. Simply follow the instructions in Tip #39. Or in Tip #21, Tip #22, or Tip #23. Or, if you can't find any of these: read "The Thorough Titan" to refresh your memory.
Bye, dear reader.
Today, I was walking down the street, heading past the Donut Shop, when I saw a familiar figure going inside with his hands in his pockets.
It was the angry man from yesterday.
As I passed the window of the Shop, I pulled my hood up. It would do no good if he recognized me. Then I walked very very fast down the street. I was heading for the pastry shop on the corner. I had decided that I would have delicious Danish pastries today! They were very delish, by the way.
Now that I think about it, I nearly eradicated my whole Spy persona yesterday.
As a Spy, I am not supposed to be noticed. I should be silent, stealthy, and always listening. I do not stand up in the middle of Donut Shops and yell at angry customers. I do not get thanked by grateful cashiers. I do not advertise my presence at all.
I am ashamed to say I failed yesterday. I have never failed before. It is pathetic.
Sniff.
Thankfully, there was no one else in the Donut Shop. And I plan to never return, so the only two people who saw me act erratically are two people who will eventually forget about me and move on with their respective lives.
I'm sure the cashier told her boss about the angry man, so I know they can handle the angry guy.
They don't need me.
I'm sure.
The Anonymous Titan would like to interrupt this post with a news bulletin:
"It was the strangest thing," Johanna Harp, 32, of San Diego, tells us. "I was locking the door to my apartment this morning when I saw the biggest stuffed elephant ever!"
One of her children, Sean Harp, 10, pipes up: "So Mommy called the police!"
"I was rattled," she admits. "I mean, it was so big that I thought someone was playing a prank or something. And it had a big bow around its neck, and it was in the middle of the street. It was like the Trojan Horse, but - but... odder."
Sean chimes in again: "So then the police came and took it away! They said that they'd give it to Goodwill!"
"Yes, well," Mrs. Harp says, "At least it's off the street now, and I can back out my car. It's just so weird, though. I wonder where it came from..."
Today I made some more fried zucchini because I was tired of waiting for the mail to arrive. Of course, right after I finished cooking, waiting for them to cool, finding various utensils to eat with, and beginning to eat them, the doorbell rang.
Sitting outside was my package of fried zucchini.
Finally.
Now I have a considerable amount of it! But I wish the mail had come sooner - I now have three burns on my left arm and one on my right thumb. Ow...
Thankfully, the crow has not come back. I made sure to shut all the windows last night, even though my air conditioner doesn't work, and it's nearly 100 degrees outside.
Sigh... stupid bird.
I keep finding more poop deposits in my room. There was even one inside my laptop bag.
Argh...
The Topic of the Day:
Professors' Rules
There are a few Standard Rules that every professor follows:
1. No Electronic Devices (except Laptops, occasionally)
2. No Eating (Although one professor allowed us to! We liked him...)
3. No Talking When the Professor Is Speaking
I have a few rules that I think every professor should follow:
1. No Cellphones, Even if the Professor Cannot See Them (such as iPods, mp3 players, cell phones, cameras, video cameras, video games, etc. But if you have them in your backpack - and your backpack on the floor - I suppose that's all right.)
2. No Laptops (People don't only write notes...)
3. No Leaving in the Middle of Class (People have actually done this. I am always freakishly appalled when this happens. Why did they come in the first place if they're only going to walk out halfway through??)
4. No Talking, Unless the Professor Calls on You (I always hear whispered conversations in class, which is very distracting, as I feel obligated to eavesdrop.)
5. No Rude Comments
6. No Ring Ring Ring Ring/Beep Beep Beep/La La La La Noises from Electronic Devices (but this goes with Rule #1, so I guess you can ignore it.)
7. No Pets
8. No Dumb People
9. No Mean People
10. No Inattentive People
12. No Annoying People (Rule #11, No Ugly People, I beg you to ignore. It was rude and unfounded. Please accept my sincerest apologies.)
I suppose that those are the last of my rules, although I'm sure that if I continue going to class I will discover more.
Professors, those brave and usually unusually intelligent people, are held in high regard by myself, as they have a complicated and people-centered job. I admire them, but I must say that sometimes I feel they need to fix a few things.
But you're only a Student! you might say.
Dear reader, of course you are right. It's only that sometimes I know I can do certain things better.
For example, there is one glaring problem that professors sometimes have:
Group Projects.
Dear reader, there are many things wrong with Group Projects:
The first problem with the Problem of Group Projects are its Categories of Students:
1. The Slacker (There's one in (almost) every group. If you don't believe me, just wait. If you have never had this Category in your Group Project before, you haven't missed anything.)
2. The Know-It-All (This person usually ends up being a leader, if your Group Project is missing Category #3. This is never a good thing. I strongly implore you to avoid Know-It-Alls when choosing your group, if at all possible.)
3. The Team Leader (This is sometimes good and sometimes bad. Some of these are Know-It-Alls, and some of these are Intelligent Ones - or they can be both - but I suggest you attempt to form a democracy, not a dictatorship, or you might end up being unhappy.)
4. The Oblivious One (This is the person who has no idea what is going on. See #5.)
5. The Bored One (This is the person who finds everything uninteresting and thus fails to pay attention to anything. See #4.)
6. The Helpful One (If you have one of these people in your group, then you are set for success. Keep him/her close. They may not be a Team Leader or even an Intelligent One, but I guarantee they will be helpful. Ha ha ha.)
7. The Intelligent One (Yes! Get him/her in your group! They are the ones who have paid attention to the instructions, begun thinking about the project already, and who will provide balance to either the Know-It-All or the Team Leader, keeping them - and your project - on task.)
Another problem with Group Projects is the professor's manner of choosing them.
Sometimes your Professor may say, "Students, please get into groups of four."
Then you choose all your friends to be in your group with you, and instead of working on anything, all you do is talk and joke and mess around.
This is bad.
Other times your Professor may say, "Students, I will assign you to groups of four."
Then your Professor wastes valuable time numbering you off and putting you in groups. Or your Professor picks various rows and has them team up to work together.
Also, you may be stuck with a Know-It-All or a Slacker.
This is bad also.
Furthermore, Group Projects cause tension.
It is hard for groups of people to come up with a good project and yet avoid creating conflict. It is also bad, however, if there is no conflict but a bad project.
Really, Professors! I implore you not to use this banal and lazy way of teaching!
Group Projects, though you may believe that they promote teamwork and communication, instead hinder these two things! Group Projects are singularly unhelpful, especially if you are an intelligent Student who always works hard and is forced to deal with people like Slackers, Bored Ones, or Oblivious Ones, thus putting your Grade in peril.
As a Student, I know the terrors and faults of Group Projects firsthand.
So you will do well to remember this message:
Ban Group Projects.
Now I will interrupt my musing to write about something else:
Names.
Has it occurred to you, dear reader, that everyone on this planet has a name?
I think they do, at least. Hmm...
Names define us!
My name, dear reader, defines me.
You think of me as The Anonymous Titan.
So, to you, I am mysterious and hidden. I am always sneaky, cunning, and fascinating.
If I referred to myself with my real name, you would not find me as interesting.
Therefore, if you are expecting me to eventually reveal my true name...
You will be sadly disappointed.
I thought I had better clear that up.
If you want to throw bird poop at your computer screen now, I give you permission.
I am soooooo evil.
Tips of the Day:
Tip #37: Keep your laptops close, but your stuffed elephants even closer.
Tip #38: Be happy, not stupid. This was told to me by a good friend. It is best, of course, to be happy, but even better to be smart. I suggest you follow this advice closely.
Tip #39: Go outside, get in your car, drive to the supermarket, and pick me up some fried zucchini. Then drive to Cal State Fullerton and put it on the sundial. You will be soooo happy.
Tip #40: This is not a tip. I just wanted to write "Tip #40" because it makes me happy. Soon you too, dear reader, will be happy. Simply follow the instructions in Tip #39. Or in Tip #21, Tip #22, or Tip #23. Or, if you can't find any of these: read "The Thorough Titan" to refresh your memory.
Bye, dear reader.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The Ticked-Off Titan
Barf, I say.
Barf barf barf barf barf barf barf!
Hmm... It almost sounds like I am barking at you.
But I am not.
Why are you saying Barf, then? you may ask.
Because, dear reader, of this:
Today I got up and did the usual things to get ready for the day, like put on my clothes (including my purple-striped socks) and eat breakfast.
Well, I tried to eat breakfast.
There was nothing in my pantry, on my counter, or in my refrigerator, because I had eaten all my fried zucchini yesterday. (Hint...hint...) So I went out of my dark and secret room to the Great Outdoors.
I looked around for a coffee shop, but I only saw a Donut place.
So I went there!
I had ordered my two Boston Cream Donuts and sat down to begin eating them when an altercation broke out at the counter. (By the way, a Boston Cream Donut is a donut with chocolate frosting on top and custard inside. They are very extremely delicious.)
"What do you mean," the angry customer demanded of the lone cashier, "you don't have Bear Claws?!"
The cashier looked startled. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Bear Claws!" the man said. "You know, those donuts with sugar and batter and stuff. You know." He waved his hands around in the air, as if they could talk or something.
The cashier smiled a tight, bemused smile, and looked behind her to check the menu. She glanced back at him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't sell those. They're considered pastries, not true donuts."
I wondered what the difference was. I had ordered Bear Claws at donut shops before. They were very yummy, but not as good as Boston Cream Donuts.
"But I need them!" His irritable tone was edging into one of desperation.
I swallowed my bite of delicious donut and got up. "Why don't you go to the pastry shop down the street? It might have Bear Claws."
The cashier looked thankfully at me. She was clearly out of her depth. Perhaps she was new. Or maybe no one had yelled at her over donuts (which are not really a matter of life or death, but some food experts seem to think so) before.
The angry man scowled at me and waved his hands around again. "No, I want to buy them here. Can't you make them specially for me?" He had turned back to the cashier.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said again, "but we don't sell them here."
"But really!" he said, his face getting redder. "They're just like regular donuts, except, except - except different! They're not that hard! You run a donut shop! You can make them!"
"But we don't," she said, getting more agitated. "We don't, sir, I'm sorry. I think you should try somewhere else."
The angry man glared at her. "I came here for a reason, young lady. Don't tell me to go somewhere else."
"Sir," I said, beginning to lose my temper, "I think you should leave."
He turned his blazing, red-rimmed eyes on me. I tried not to take a step back, as he was a foot or more taller than I was, but this was harder than it seemed. So I took a deep breath and counted to ten.
"Excuse me?" the man demanded, his eyes now popping luridly. Ew.
"I think you should leave," I said, trying to sound confident, as if I did this sort of thing every day. "You can't stay here and harass the staff. Either order something else or go away."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, still scowling, but now he seemed unsure. Maybe no one had ever stood up to him before. Maybe he was a coward.
I took my chance, since he wasn't protesting, and said, "Go try the other pastry shop. I'm sure they have something you'll like."
He swung around on his heel, hesitated, and then stumped towards the door, muttering to himself. Whatever he was saying did not sound pleasant. The door swung open, hovered for a moment, and slammed.
The cashier breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said, breathlessly. "Do you want anything else? It's on the house."
I smiled at her. "No, but I think you should tell your boss about that guy. He might come back."
"I will." She nodded at me, smiled again, and slipped through the door behind the counter, disappearing into the back.
I wrapped up the rest of my donuts and went out, but first I checked to see if the angry man was nearby. He wasn't. I thought I saw him further up the street, heading towards the pastry shop, but I wasn't sure. I hoped that he wasn't going to go bother someone else.
Since this scene turned out well, I was not at all unhappy at this point.
But when I got home, I found out that not all was well.
The crow looked down at me from his vantage point on my fridge.
"CAW."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
So you can understand, dear reader, why I wrote this post so late tonight.
I am sooooo tired.
The Topic of Today is:
Nothing.
Really. I can't think of anything. My brain is shot, like a lightbulb that's gone dead. Or a broken clock, with its hands spinning really fast but going nowhere. Or like a computer, but without any wires or electricity or keyboard or mouse or hard-drive.
I am sooooo dead.
Reasons why I am Dead:
1. Bird Poop
2. Bird Poop
3. Bird Poop...
4. BIRD POOP......
5. BIRD POOP!!!!!!
6. THE EVIL STINKING BIRD POOP
Argh.....
Topics That I Can Think Of:
1. Bird Poop
2. Fried Zucchini
That reminds me. I am sorry to say that I am still lacking in fried zucchini shipments, but the mail service has promised me that it will arrive soon.
To that, I say, Yeah, right.
Can you tell that I am grumpy? And peeved? And clearly not being chipper?
I will try, dear reader, to be chipper. Just for you.
It is best to talk about happy things if one wants to feel chipper, so I will list a few happy things.
1. Sunshine. (This is obvious. I mean, who likes darkness?)
2. Fried Zucchini. (No explanation needed)
3. Purple-Striped Socks (Ahhh... I LOVE THEM...)
4. Purple-Striped Bikes. (I actually made one by myself!!!! - I said this in my last post, but I'd like to say it again. - It is beautiful...)
5. Purple-Striped Other Things
6. Giant Stuffed Elephants. Never mind, that is sad. I am still in mourning. Don't talk about it. Just - don't.
7. Happy Old People that Are In Love, and that Hold Hands While Walking Down the Street While Wearing Matching Clothes
8. My Laptop
9. My Keyboard With Its Clicky and Tappy Keys
10. My Laptop Bag (It has purple stripes inside!)
I have now listed ten (oops, nine! Sob.) things that make me happy.
I feel happy again!
I wonder what makes you happy, dear reader. Blue skies? Fluffy kitties? Nightlights? Scarecrows? Red tulips? Oranges?
It is always best to write down happy things and then reread them. I promise you that when you finally finish writing all of them down, you will feel so much better then you did when you started!
I call this process Making My Happy List.
And you can Make Your Happy Lists too!
Here are the tips for today:
Tip #33. If a crow flies in through your open window and poops everywhere, don't forget about your other open window. Close that one too. Then the crow will not return and poop everywhere again. I have now closed all my windows.
Tip #34: Go outside and watch the sunset.
Tip #35: Or go outside and watch the sunrise, if Tip #34 is not possible.
Tip #36: If neither Tip #34 or Tip #35 is possible, go inside and make a sunset/sunrise cake! You can do this by baking a cake (any kind) and then putting red, orange, yellow, pink, and lavender frosting all over it. Then you can eat it. I generally call this sort of cake Sunset Cake, because I use darker colors and add some dark blue frosting at the base.
English Majors are very creative.
Goodnight, dear reader.
See you tomorrow.
Barf barf barf barf barf barf barf!
Hmm... It almost sounds like I am barking at you.
But I am not.
Why are you saying Barf, then? you may ask.
Because, dear reader, of this:
Today I got up and did the usual things to get ready for the day, like put on my clothes (including my purple-striped socks) and eat breakfast.
Well, I tried to eat breakfast.
There was nothing in my pantry, on my counter, or in my refrigerator, because I had eaten all my fried zucchini yesterday. (Hint...hint...) So I went out of my dark and secret room to the Great Outdoors.
I looked around for a coffee shop, but I only saw a Donut place.
So I went there!
I had ordered my two Boston Cream Donuts and sat down to begin eating them when an altercation broke out at the counter. (By the way, a Boston Cream Donut is a donut with chocolate frosting on top and custard inside. They are very extremely delicious.)
"What do you mean," the angry customer demanded of the lone cashier, "you don't have Bear Claws?!"
The cashier looked startled. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Bear Claws!" the man said. "You know, those donuts with sugar and batter and stuff. You know." He waved his hands around in the air, as if they could talk or something.
The cashier smiled a tight, bemused smile, and looked behind her to check the menu. She glanced back at him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't sell those. They're considered pastries, not true donuts."
I wondered what the difference was. I had ordered Bear Claws at donut shops before. They were very yummy, but not as good as Boston Cream Donuts.
"But I need them!" His irritable tone was edging into one of desperation.
I swallowed my bite of delicious donut and got up. "Why don't you go to the pastry shop down the street? It might have Bear Claws."
The cashier looked thankfully at me. She was clearly out of her depth. Perhaps she was new. Or maybe no one had yelled at her over donuts (which are not really a matter of life or death, but some food experts seem to think so) before.
The angry man scowled at me and waved his hands around again. "No, I want to buy them here. Can't you make them specially for me?" He had turned back to the cashier.
"I'm sorry, sir," she said again, "but we don't sell them here."
"But really!" he said, his face getting redder. "They're just like regular donuts, except, except - except different! They're not that hard! You run a donut shop! You can make them!"
"But we don't," she said, getting more agitated. "We don't, sir, I'm sorry. I think you should try somewhere else."
The angry man glared at her. "I came here for a reason, young lady. Don't tell me to go somewhere else."
"Sir," I said, beginning to lose my temper, "I think you should leave."
He turned his blazing, red-rimmed eyes on me. I tried not to take a step back, as he was a foot or more taller than I was, but this was harder than it seemed. So I took a deep breath and counted to ten.
"Excuse me?" the man demanded, his eyes now popping luridly. Ew.
"I think you should leave," I said, trying to sound confident, as if I did this sort of thing every day. "You can't stay here and harass the staff. Either order something else or go away."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, still scowling, but now he seemed unsure. Maybe no one had ever stood up to him before. Maybe he was a coward.
I took my chance, since he wasn't protesting, and said, "Go try the other pastry shop. I'm sure they have something you'll like."
He swung around on his heel, hesitated, and then stumped towards the door, muttering to himself. Whatever he was saying did not sound pleasant. The door swung open, hovered for a moment, and slammed.
The cashier breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said, breathlessly. "Do you want anything else? It's on the house."
I smiled at her. "No, but I think you should tell your boss about that guy. He might come back."
"I will." She nodded at me, smiled again, and slipped through the door behind the counter, disappearing into the back.
I wrapped up the rest of my donuts and went out, but first I checked to see if the angry man was nearby. He wasn't. I thought I saw him further up the street, heading towards the pastry shop, but I wasn't sure. I hoped that he wasn't going to go bother someone else.
Since this scene turned out well, I was not at all unhappy at this point.
But when I got home, I found out that not all was well.
The crow looked down at me from his vantage point on my fridge.
"CAW."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
So you can understand, dear reader, why I wrote this post so late tonight.
I am sooooo tired.
The Topic of Today is:
Nothing.
Really. I can't think of anything. My brain is shot, like a lightbulb that's gone dead. Or a broken clock, with its hands spinning really fast but going nowhere. Or like a computer, but without any wires or electricity or keyboard or mouse or hard-drive.
I am sooooo dead.
Reasons why I am Dead:
1. Bird Poop
2. Bird Poop
3. Bird Poop...
4. BIRD POOP......
5. BIRD POOP!!!!!!
6. THE EVIL STINKING BIRD POOP
Argh.....
Topics That I Can Think Of:
1. Bird Poop
2. Fried Zucchini
That reminds me. I am sorry to say that I am still lacking in fried zucchini shipments, but the mail service has promised me that it will arrive soon.
To that, I say, Yeah, right.
Can you tell that I am grumpy? And peeved? And clearly not being chipper?
I will try, dear reader, to be chipper. Just for you.
It is best to talk about happy things if one wants to feel chipper, so I will list a few happy things.
1. Sunshine. (This is obvious. I mean, who likes darkness?)
2. Fried Zucchini. (No explanation needed)
3. Purple-Striped Socks (Ahhh... I LOVE THEM...)
4. Purple-Striped Bikes. (I actually made one by myself!!!! - I said this in my last post, but I'd like to say it again. - It is beautiful...)
5. Purple-Striped Other Things
6. Giant Stuffed Elephants. Never mind, that is sad. I am still in mourning. Don't talk about it. Just - don't.
7. Happy Old People that Are In Love, and that Hold Hands While Walking Down the Street While Wearing Matching Clothes
8. My Laptop
9. My Keyboard With Its Clicky and Tappy Keys
10. My Laptop Bag (It has purple stripes inside!)
I have now listed ten (oops, nine! Sob.) things that make me happy.
I feel happy again!
I wonder what makes you happy, dear reader. Blue skies? Fluffy kitties? Nightlights? Scarecrows? Red tulips? Oranges?
It is always best to write down happy things and then reread them. I promise you that when you finally finish writing all of them down, you will feel so much better then you did when you started!
I call this process Making My Happy List.
And you can Make Your Happy Lists too!
Here are the tips for today:
Tip #33. If a crow flies in through your open window and poops everywhere, don't forget about your other open window. Close that one too. Then the crow will not return and poop everywhere again. I have now closed all my windows.
Tip #34: Go outside and watch the sunset.
Tip #35: Or go outside and watch the sunrise, if Tip #34 is not possible.
Tip #36: If neither Tip #34 or Tip #35 is possible, go inside and make a sunset/sunrise cake! You can do this by baking a cake (any kind) and then putting red, orange, yellow, pink, and lavender frosting all over it. Then you can eat it. I generally call this sort of cake Sunset Cake, because I use darker colors and add some dark blue frosting at the base.
English Majors are very creative.
Goodnight, dear reader.
See you tomorrow.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Torpedoed Titan
Today I woke up and discovered that I had left my window open all night.
Needless to say, I was askance at my forgetfulness! Such behavior was not to be tolerated!
Besides, there was bird poop on the floor, and a crow sitting on the foot of my bed. He was staring at me with evil beady black eyes and an appraising expression on his nasty feathery face.
"CAW," he said.
"Go away," I said, and pulled the covers over my head.
"CAW. CAW. CAW."
"Arghhh," I said, and gave up on going back to sleep.
I padded over to the crow in my purple-striped socks and took a deep, bravery-inspiring breath.
"Go away."
"CAW."
"Please?" I flapped at him with my hands hopefully.
He hopped onto the floor and peered up at me, tilting his head to one side. He was clearly enjoying himself. "CAW."
I manuevered myself around him and waved my arms in circles, trying to get him to fly out the window. "Go away!"
"CAW." He flew back onto my bed. And pooped.
"No!!!!" I cried, horrified. I leaped onto my bed (narrowly missing the poop) and ran headlong at him.
He fluttered into the air, did a twirl, and landed on my windowsill, decorously folding his wings behind him.
"Now I've got you," I muttered (quietly, in case he understood English) and looked around for something to throw.
Another pair of purple-striped socks was lying handily next to my feet, so I picked them up. Then I hurled them at the crow.
They hit him in the stomach. He cawed horrendously and tumbled backwards out the window, and the socks fell after him. I ran to the window and looked out, instantly regretting my decision of using a pair of my lovely purple-striped socks. What had I been thinking???!!!
The crow had landed on top of a nearby light pole. The socks were dangling, absurdly, from his beak.
I sighed, slammed the window shut in DESPAIR, and turned around to survey my poopy room.
Yuck.
Luckily, I had a large amount of paper towels.
Because I am tired of thinking about my disgustingly poopy room (I cleaned it up THE WHOLE DAY LONG) I will now write about the Topic of the Day:
FLIER PEOPLE.
You may be confused at this point (Flier people? Is the Anonymous Titan referring to airplane pilots, skydivers, or UFOs?) so I will explain.
Flier People are those beings who thrust papers, surveys, junk, pencils, erasers, voting registration forms, business cards, and other miscellaneous items into the faces of passing CSUF Students. They also talk loudly and step into the path of passerby on purpose.
Fliers are anything that the Flier People are trying to persuade you to take/buy/sign/do/write on/talk to them about/read/survey/call someone with/write with/erase with/vote with/etc.
They (both the Flier People and the Fliers themselves) are very scary.
At CSUF, there is a veritable LANE of Flier People. I call it the Flier Walkway of Hysteria.
Its name is well-deserved.
The Flier Walkway of Hysteria (or FWH) is one of the main pathways past the Bookstore and in front of the Library. It runs right next to the Performing Arts Center.
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, (even though I am so clear) I will show you.
Go to this link for a map of CSUF:
http://www.fullerton.edu/campusmap/images/campus%20map%20color_1008.pdf
There is a white path between the Commons and the Performing Arts building (also called CPAC), which runs parallel to both. This path is also perpendicular to the Pollak Library. If you can't find it even now, I give up. But that path is the FWH.
I try to avoid it at all costs.
On my first days at CSUF, I didn't realize that this walkway was always populated by Flier People, but I soon discovered that it was. I also discovered that there were other hotspot Flier Areas. Then I made it my mission to avoid all Flier Areas, at all costs, at all times, during every single day.
For example, there is a small walkway between two of the Mihaylo buildings, which you can also see on the campus map. That is populated by Flier People throughout the whole of lunchtime (11 or so - 1). I'm not sure about the other times, since unless I have a class there, I never (ever) walk that way.
Flier Areas are also found at the entrances and exits of buildings. Unfortunately, I can't avoid those, so I go into AFM, also known as Avoiding Fliers Mode.
I have seen several different attempts made at avoiding Fliers:
1. Put up your hood and look grim.
2. Pretend the Flier People do not exist.
3. Take out your phone and pretend to be texting people.
4. Actually text people.
5. Call someone.
6. Pretend to call someone.
7. Flip through your notebook and papers.
8. Talk to yourself.
9. Glare.
10. Talk loudly to the people who are walking with you (preferably people you know).
11. Try a combination of any of these.
I, however, have developed my own special AFM.
I put up my hood, walk very very fast, take out my phone and put it to my ear, keep my head down, pretend that I am deep in serious conversation, and fill my arms with books, papers, and as many other items as possible. That way, no one can hand me anything, talk to me, look me in the eye, catch my attention, or even manage to get a good look at my speedily departing figure.
I told you I was a Spy.
To tell you the truth, it's not that I don't like Flier People. It's just that I don't like getting handed stuff or asked to do something that I have no interest in. If I really wanted to do something, I'd go online or call someone and do it myself. I don't need someone telling me to do it. So there.
And I don't go to College to get handed stuff and asked to take surveys. I go there to learn. Obviously.
Dear reader, I'm sure you understand. Think about it. What if you went to work, and every morning someone stopped you and asked you to sign up for something, something that you had already said no to? Wouldn't it be so very annoying?
This annoyance has happened to me several times.
For instance, I was walking to the Library one morning when a guy with Big hair asked me if I was registered to vote.
"Yes," I said (which was true) and tried to go past him into the Library. Stupid me. I hadn't even thought that there would be Flier People at the Library. Wasn't the Library like a sacred place or something? I had thought so.
"But wait!" the Big hair guy said. "Why don't you sign up for this?"
I tried to sound slightly civil. "No, I have stuff to do."
"It will only take 5 minutes!"
I shook my head and tried to edge around him, but he stepped in my way.
"C'mon, you can take 5 minutes! You probably don't have anything that important to do!"
"I do, actually," I said, unconsciously falling into Angry English Major speech patterns. "I have several crucial assignments to finish. Excuse me. You are in my way."
Because he didn't move (he appeared to be stunned by the bigness of my words) I slipped past him and stormed into the Library.
The next day, I was coming out of the TSU when a familiar head of hair appeared in the sea of people, bobbing up and down dramatically as he sought to ensnare other victims. He was holding a stack of voter registration forms under one arm.
I winced inwardly, reached for my hood, and was about to pull it up over my head when someone ran into me, knocking my arm askew.
The hood (and some of my books) fell down, and the Big hair guy spotted me from behind a short hooded person. His eyes lit up with unholy glee.
The crowd had suddenly evaporated. I was standing alone in front of the TSU with a pile of books at my feet, and a feeling of desperation in the pit of my stomach.
I bent over, pretending that I hadn't recognized the Big hair guy, and snatched as many books as I could into my arms.
One of them slipped out and onto the sidewalk. I took a deep breath, but it didn't really help.
"Would you like to sign up for this thing?" the Big hair guy asked brightly, waving a blue form of some sort under my nose.
I gritted my teeth, reached down for my book, and made a quick escape (after feinting to the left, and then to the right).
He followed me all the way through the Quad, only giving up when I dashed around the corner of McCarthy and flew haphazardly up the outer staircase.
I didn't have a class in there, but I went into the bathroom and hid for an hour. When I came out, he was nowhere to be seen.
Two days passed. I relaxed and forgot all about the Big hair guy.
That Friday, I was coming out of the back exit of the Library when I saw a horribly familiar sight.
The Big hair guy was leaning nonchalantly against a pillar, clutching his ever-present collection of forms and smiling pleasantly.
I'm not sure what expression I made, but my face felt stiff and numb. Perhaps I had my mouth open?
The Big hair guy looked straight at me, still smiling pleasantly. "Would you like-"
I turned around and fled into the Library. His words rang eerily in my ears...
I am greatly pleased to tell you that I never saw him again.
Maybe he found a different job.
Wouldn't it be awful if he showed up one day on my doorstep?
May it never be...
Tips for Today:
Tip #29: Never walk down the Flier Lane of Hysteria. Terrible things have happened there. One time, twenty crazy Flier People gathered and threw Fliers (pencils, erasers, papers, heavy boxes, Frisbees, toys) at innocent passerby. One person was hit in the head with a Frisbee and lost his eye. It was quite disturbing, dear reader. So never ever ever ever go there. Walk down the path leading from the Library and directly past the Bookstore. (Refer to the map if you don't know what I mean.)
Tip #30: Remember when I told you I needed a bike? Forget that, dear reader! I have finally got one! After working several days at the Ice Cream Shop, I procured enough funds to buy a bike! Then I went and painted it with purple stripes and even some on the seat! I had to wait a few days for it to dry, but now I am a true bicyclist! Do not hit me when you are driving!
Tip #31: Cleaning up bird poop is not for the faint of heart. If you ever have to indulge in this awful task, wear surgical gloves and a mask. Find a broom, a shovel, an ice pick and a heavy-duty steel trashcan, and then bend to your work. Do not attempt to clean up bird poop when you are sad. It will make you sadder. Then you may lose your temper and fling bird poop at the walls, especially if the bird that pooped everywhere took your socks with it when it flew away. Oh, and bird poop takes forever to wash out of bedspreads, but I don't know why.
Tip #32: Close your windows at all times, especially if you are The Anonymous Titan or other Important Hidden People. If a crow can come in, so can other things! Like cameras! And geese! And UFOs!
Farewell, dear reader. I shall write again later.
Needless to say, I was askance at my forgetfulness! Such behavior was not to be tolerated!
Besides, there was bird poop on the floor, and a crow sitting on the foot of my bed. He was staring at me with evil beady black eyes and an appraising expression on his nasty feathery face.
"CAW," he said.
"Go away," I said, and pulled the covers over my head.
"CAW. CAW. CAW."
"Arghhh," I said, and gave up on going back to sleep.
I padded over to the crow in my purple-striped socks and took a deep, bravery-inspiring breath.
"Go away."
"CAW."
"Please?" I flapped at him with my hands hopefully.
He hopped onto the floor and peered up at me, tilting his head to one side. He was clearly enjoying himself. "CAW."
I manuevered myself around him and waved my arms in circles, trying to get him to fly out the window. "Go away!"
"CAW." He flew back onto my bed. And pooped.
"No!!!!" I cried, horrified. I leaped onto my bed (narrowly missing the poop) and ran headlong at him.
He fluttered into the air, did a twirl, and landed on my windowsill, decorously folding his wings behind him.
"Now I've got you," I muttered (quietly, in case he understood English) and looked around for something to throw.
Another pair of purple-striped socks was lying handily next to my feet, so I picked them up. Then I hurled them at the crow.
They hit him in the stomach. He cawed horrendously and tumbled backwards out the window, and the socks fell after him. I ran to the window and looked out, instantly regretting my decision of using a pair of my lovely purple-striped socks. What had I been thinking???!!!
The crow had landed on top of a nearby light pole. The socks were dangling, absurdly, from his beak.
I sighed, slammed the window shut in DESPAIR, and turned around to survey my poopy room.
Yuck.
Luckily, I had a large amount of paper towels.
Because I am tired of thinking about my disgustingly poopy room (I cleaned it up THE WHOLE DAY LONG) I will now write about the Topic of the Day:
FLIER PEOPLE.
You may be confused at this point (Flier people? Is the Anonymous Titan referring to airplane pilots, skydivers, or UFOs?) so I will explain.
Flier People are those beings who thrust papers, surveys, junk, pencils, erasers, voting registration forms, business cards, and other miscellaneous items into the faces of passing CSUF Students. They also talk loudly and step into the path of passerby on purpose.
Fliers are anything that the Flier People are trying to persuade you to take/buy/sign/do/write on/talk to them about/read/survey/call someone with/write with/erase with/vote with/etc.
They (both the Flier People and the Fliers themselves) are very scary.
At CSUF, there is a veritable LANE of Flier People. I call it the Flier Walkway of Hysteria.
Its name is well-deserved.
The Flier Walkway of Hysteria (or FWH) is one of the main pathways past the Bookstore and in front of the Library. It runs right next to the Performing Arts Center.
For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, (even though I am so clear) I will show you.
Go to this link for a map of CSUF:
http://www.fullerton.edu/campusmap/images/campus%20map%20color_1008.pdf
There is a white path between the Commons and the Performing Arts building (also called CPAC), which runs parallel to both. This path is also perpendicular to the Pollak Library. If you can't find it even now, I give up. But that path is the FWH.
I try to avoid it at all costs.
On my first days at CSUF, I didn't realize that this walkway was always populated by Flier People, but I soon discovered that it was. I also discovered that there were other hotspot Flier Areas. Then I made it my mission to avoid all Flier Areas, at all costs, at all times, during every single day.
For example, there is a small walkway between two of the Mihaylo buildings, which you can also see on the campus map. That is populated by Flier People throughout the whole of lunchtime (11 or so - 1). I'm not sure about the other times, since unless I have a class there, I never (ever) walk that way.
Flier Areas are also found at the entrances and exits of buildings. Unfortunately, I can't avoid those, so I go into AFM, also known as Avoiding Fliers Mode.
I have seen several different attempts made at avoiding Fliers:
1. Put up your hood and look grim.
2. Pretend the Flier People do not exist.
3. Take out your phone and pretend to be texting people.
4. Actually text people.
5. Call someone.
6. Pretend to call someone.
7. Flip through your notebook and papers.
8. Talk to yourself.
9. Glare.
10. Talk loudly to the people who are walking with you (preferably people you know).
11. Try a combination of any of these.
I, however, have developed my own special AFM.
I put up my hood, walk very very fast, take out my phone and put it to my ear, keep my head down, pretend that I am deep in serious conversation, and fill my arms with books, papers, and as many other items as possible. That way, no one can hand me anything, talk to me, look me in the eye, catch my attention, or even manage to get a good look at my speedily departing figure.
I told you I was a Spy.
To tell you the truth, it's not that I don't like Flier People. It's just that I don't like getting handed stuff or asked to do something that I have no interest in. If I really wanted to do something, I'd go online or call someone and do it myself. I don't need someone telling me to do it. So there.
And I don't go to College to get handed stuff and asked to take surveys. I go there to learn. Obviously.
Dear reader, I'm sure you understand. Think about it. What if you went to work, and every morning someone stopped you and asked you to sign up for something, something that you had already said no to? Wouldn't it be so very annoying?
This annoyance has happened to me several times.
For instance, I was walking to the Library one morning when a guy with Big hair asked me if I was registered to vote.
"Yes," I said (which was true) and tried to go past him into the Library. Stupid me. I hadn't even thought that there would be Flier People at the Library. Wasn't the Library like a sacred place or something? I had thought so.
"But wait!" the Big hair guy said. "Why don't you sign up for this?"
I tried to sound slightly civil. "No, I have stuff to do."
"It will only take 5 minutes!"
I shook my head and tried to edge around him, but he stepped in my way.
"C'mon, you can take 5 minutes! You probably don't have anything that important to do!"
"I do, actually," I said, unconsciously falling into Angry English Major speech patterns. "I have several crucial assignments to finish. Excuse me. You are in my way."
Because he didn't move (he appeared to be stunned by the bigness of my words) I slipped past him and stormed into the Library.
The next day, I was coming out of the TSU when a familiar head of hair appeared in the sea of people, bobbing up and down dramatically as he sought to ensnare other victims. He was holding a stack of voter registration forms under one arm.
I winced inwardly, reached for my hood, and was about to pull it up over my head when someone ran into me, knocking my arm askew.
The hood (and some of my books) fell down, and the Big hair guy spotted me from behind a short hooded person. His eyes lit up with unholy glee.
The crowd had suddenly evaporated. I was standing alone in front of the TSU with a pile of books at my feet, and a feeling of desperation in the pit of my stomach.
I bent over, pretending that I hadn't recognized the Big hair guy, and snatched as many books as I could into my arms.
One of them slipped out and onto the sidewalk. I took a deep breath, but it didn't really help.
"Would you like to sign up for this thing?" the Big hair guy asked brightly, waving a blue form of some sort under my nose.
I gritted my teeth, reached down for my book, and made a quick escape (after feinting to the left, and then to the right).
He followed me all the way through the Quad, only giving up when I dashed around the corner of McCarthy and flew haphazardly up the outer staircase.
I didn't have a class in there, but I went into the bathroom and hid for an hour. When I came out, he was nowhere to be seen.
Two days passed. I relaxed and forgot all about the Big hair guy.
That Friday, I was coming out of the back exit of the Library when I saw a horribly familiar sight.
The Big hair guy was leaning nonchalantly against a pillar, clutching his ever-present collection of forms and smiling pleasantly.
I'm not sure what expression I made, but my face felt stiff and numb. Perhaps I had my mouth open?
The Big hair guy looked straight at me, still smiling pleasantly. "Would you like-"
I turned around and fled into the Library. His words rang eerily in my ears...
I am greatly pleased to tell you that I never saw him again.
Maybe he found a different job.
Wouldn't it be awful if he showed up one day on my doorstep?
May it never be...
Tips for Today:
Tip #29: Never walk down the Flier Lane of Hysteria. Terrible things have happened there. One time, twenty crazy Flier People gathered and threw Fliers (pencils, erasers, papers, heavy boxes, Frisbees, toys) at innocent passerby. One person was hit in the head with a Frisbee and lost his eye. It was quite disturbing, dear reader. So never ever ever ever go there. Walk down the path leading from the Library and directly past the Bookstore. (Refer to the map if you don't know what I mean.)
Tip #30: Remember when I told you I needed a bike? Forget that, dear reader! I have finally got one! After working several days at the Ice Cream Shop, I procured enough funds to buy a bike! Then I went and painted it with purple stripes and even some on the seat! I had to wait a few days for it to dry, but now I am a true bicyclist! Do not hit me when you are driving!
Tip #31: Cleaning up bird poop is not for the faint of heart. If you ever have to indulge in this awful task, wear surgical gloves and a mask. Find a broom, a shovel, an ice pick and a heavy-duty steel trashcan, and then bend to your work. Do not attempt to clean up bird poop when you are sad. It will make you sadder. Then you may lose your temper and fling bird poop at the walls, especially if the bird that pooped everywhere took your socks with it when it flew away. Oh, and bird poop takes forever to wash out of bedspreads, but I don't know why.
Tip #32: Close your windows at all times, especially if you are The Anonymous Titan or other Important Hidden People. If a crow can come in, so can other things! Like cameras! And geese! And UFOs!
Farewell, dear reader. I shall write again later.
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