it goes vwoom together

Well, that was fun. Hmmm, hmm, hmmmmmmmmmmmm…

So… I made this script…

I thought it was going to be easy but then things started getting complicated. Everything worked out in the end but now I’m not quite sure what to say.

Hmmm… well… everytime you go here: http://julesferreira.blogspot.com/

Two Jack Handy quotes are submitted by anonymous(muhaha) individuals here: http://julesferreira.blogspot.com/2006/11/did-you-say-something.html#comments

If anyone is actually curious, I’m calling a remote PHP script through a Javascript inclusion on this page. The PHP script selects two random Jack Handy quotes and then opens up socket connections to the blogger comment script. Required information is passed to the blogger software as POST variables (grrr, that was the hard part) and then stored as a comment on the blogger system.

//edit

lol, ten minutes later and I'm at about 50. Yay for email notification of new comments >_<

I'm not qute sure how many comments blogger allows per post but I'm in a mood to find out...)

Now, I don’t normally think of myself as a whiner, but allow me to indulge my pity-seeking side for just a moment.

1. I am sick. Bleh. What the heck?! Last week I was throwing up and now I have an incessant cold. Colds typically aren’t that bad but this one is quite “sinusy” and is making my teeth and eyes ache. I rarely got moderately sick as a child. It was either healthy or hospital for me.

I have a couple of theories as to why I am now getting sick. The first is that my diet has decayed to the consumption of cereal bars and bananas only. Another possibility may be that I am sleeping… poorly. But my most promising hypothesis is that I have a deep subconscious desire to be sick.

When one is sick, it gives them a reason / excuse for the way they are. While I was growing within my mother I found comfort in developing a cleft palate. After some time I grew tired of the cleft and began repairs. The only remaining sign of it’s existence is a deviated septum.

Deviated septum ~ sinus congestion.

~ = is like
= = =
= != ~

Anyway, I’ve been just a little self conscious of my nasally voice recently and am considering the possibility that my psyche is sabotaging my immune system in order to cover my embarrassment. The game is up… you… psyche…

2. Ahem, I do believe I just got a little carried away with that last one. My other gripe is that I have lost my lone belt. I know I had it before I left for Thanksgiving break but spent a good half an hour looking for it this morning.

I fantasized for a few minutes about somebody stealing it, but I’m not quite sure about the likelihood of such an occurrence. I mean, it’s the only thing I seem to be missing. If someone were to break into my room, there are much more interesting things to take:

Computer
Gola sneakers
SSN
Sledge hoody
Vanilla yogurt bars
Passport
Ear plugs
Etc, etc... (was this a bad move, btw? is anyone going to try and take these items now that they know they are there? um... you know, I made most of them up anyway... and besides, they are guarded by machine gun cyborgs toting heat sensors...)

So I wore no belt to work today. I feel quite foolish because I always think bad things about boys who don’t wear belts with their slacks. No one seems to have noticed yet but the office was pretty empty when I slipped in. In mere minutes I will attempt an escape.

Zero: Now remember Snake, this is a stealth mission. You must rescue Sokolov without leaving any evidence to your existence in Russia.

Ah yes, I remember now. How quickly it all fades when pressed against the failing anthem of reality. I’m sorry.

Listen, j-dog, I feel like a dork. It was supposed to be honest, clever, and friendly. I have the sinking feeling that it turned out overly intense and odd. I was happy with my new found motivation but might need to reevaluate my methods. I knew I should have just gone with a ‘hello’ ;)

And holy smokes! Fred is just off and running. How embarrassing, I have some catching up to do. Trendy? Why yes, trendy indeed.

Oh, remember that one box thing? I think I’ll indulge it’s existence one final time before throwing it out the window. I somehow remember it being bigger… and more red for that matter. A bittersweet realization, no doubt. There always seems to be an inherent interest in the unknown.

It was 7:40pm. I was booking it down the long {pedestrians-on-one-side-cyclists-on-the-other} ramp on the southwest corner of campus.

Don’t tell anyone but sometimes I walk on the bike-only side just to feel powerful. I imagine what I would do if a villain were to attack me on a bike. I would probably sidestep at the last minute and use the cyclists momentum to throw him from the bike to the pavement. I would then swing my backpack as a flail. You see, the key when fighting someone with a technological advantage is to take an all out offensive position. Bring the fight to them. Don’t relent and run. Take whatever measures necessary to keep them off balance.

Say there is a crazed individual trying to run you down with an Astro van. Only an inexperienced fighter would retreat. Again, sidestep and flail the backpack like the medieval weapon it is reminiscent of (did someone want to know why I always carry a backpack?). Bring the windshield down upon your assailant. Get in close. They will be so focused on using their advantage that you can destroy them while they fumble for an easy success.

Anyway… I was moving at a rapid pace because my new addiction (Heroes) was going to start in mere minutes. I had to quickly pick up a friend (Jenny) and then drive back to my place, all in 20 minutes. I was quite pressed for time and determined to slow for no man. When I reached the three-way intersection at the bottom of that massive set of stairs I was forced to pause in joyful recollection.

“Clear!” was all I heard. I lifted my eyes to wittiness a man, on a rickety-red-plastic sled, riding down three flights of steps. He picked up enough speed to slide across the flat break in stairs and then continue down the next flight. This continued down three(3) sets of stairs and ended with him bailing before sliding into oncoming traffic.

I cheered with my fellow onlookers and reflected on my own sledding adventures. One such adventure had happened the previous night.

I was dreaming (OK, so it wasn’t a real adventure, but I didn’t know it at the time)… I was carrying this big-red-plastic sled through my neighborhood in Draper, UT. JT (Justin Timberlake and I are on an initial-name basis) had the back of the sled, and I was holding onto the front. JT was totally pumped because he had never been sledding before and I was like, “OK, you ready?” and he was all, “I’m bringing sexy back!”

We walked around for a while but couldn’t find any snow. Later we met up at the Jedi temple (from Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast; kick it Kyle!) and JT took me aside.

“Listen JF, I appreciate your taking me sledding and I want to make it up to you. What do you say about my teaching you some dance moves?”

I was down, and so begun my training. Is it any coincidence that JT’s dance moves were taught in tandem with padawan lightsaber techniques? I think not. So anyway, the last two evenings, I have received instruction from my main man on how to get groovy. I’m feeling more confidant in my movement and am thinking about getting some practice “in vitro”.

If only I had a cream-collared polo with red accents… I would be the envy of the club…

Passive-Aggressive. That’s me. I’m that passive aggressive personality type. Well I was, three months ago. Now I fall within the minimally-anxious-assertive range. Today I role-played some encounters and appeared “confidant” and even “carried” the conversation. What up now, fool? What, you want me to confront you about your unfair demands? You don’t think I can freely express my opposing opinion. Playa, you liein’ to youself. And don’t you dare think yourself free from my imposition of conversation when waiting in line in the bookstore. Bleh, I feel kinda assertive right now. It is better than I expected. There was something really empowering about quietly manipulating others to your will. It is a real confidence booster to easily speak your mind while respecting others.

I wana be Peter Petrelli. And it’s not just the bangs and choice of profession. Peter has the power I want. What about the power of flight, that do anything for ya? That’s levitation holmes! How ’bout the power to kill a yak, from two hundred yards! With mind bullets! That’s telekinesis Kyle! But no, these are not the powers bestowed upon precious Pete. How about the power… to move you? Yes, I feel moved when Peter uses his power. Peter has the potential to impersonate people, as well as passive precognition.

Anyway, yesterday I watched the first seven episodes of “Heroes.” I’m totally addicted. The eighth episode airs tonight at eight and I may or may not watch it (Potential prior plans >_>).

I see the bulge of the knife within her sleeve before she makes a move. I casually sidestep and lean my head from the blade now impaled in the wall behind me. We race to the cupboard seeking to restock our weapon supplies. I reach the drawer first.

I grab a blade in each hand. And lash out at her. She ducks under my twin slashes and kicks the drawer into the air. She reaches up into the falling utensils and picks out her choice shiv.

She moves quick and I try to keep her from pressing too close. Reach is my advantage in this fight. Reach and an overly developed cerebellum (>_>).

One block turns bad and her knife slices deep into my index finger. I scream out and she recoils, unprepared for my verbal assault. I take advantage of her lost balance and place a careful roundhouse to her temple. Wounded, I choose retreat. Another day then.

Or maybe… today (dun dun dun…).

I return after she has fallen asleep to exact some form of revenge. I find two objects quite dear to her and displace them. No one steals my blood without some form of collateral. I don’t smell any mint, hmm….

Gone are the days where I would spend hours checking for updates on the blogs of my peers. Check it:

my blogline feeds

All the information I desire on one, web-based, self-updating page. So I’ve been looking around at different newsreaders, trying to find one that sticks out. Bloglines seems to work well for me since I can check it from any terminal and it has most features I need. Has anyone played around much with atom or rss feeds?

There is a warehouse in the building I work in. I’ve never driven a forklift but I think it would be fun. I used to want to be a garbage man so that I could work the mechanical garbage-can-lifting arm. I’m getting sidetracked. Wana take a guess at what song was playing over the radio? Nope. It was “Feliz Navidad.” Oh happy day, It’s almost Christmas.

I navigated my radio to kosy 106.5 and was delighted to find that they had switched to their Christmas music. I love Christmas music. It reminds me of… Christmas. Anyway, kosy has just replaced 105.7 on my presets.

Last night, there were a few cars stopped the intersection between Wendy’s and the RB. I was about 4 minutes and 30 seconds into My love (stop the video, forward the top song to 4:30). I forgot myself and got my groove on. When I made eye contact with the girl in the car next to me, she laughed. I felt all warm and happy on the inside.

“You got it?”

“Yeah.” As I slip the mini-CD into her outstretched palm I take another cautionary glance around the stairwell.

We are alone but the sounds of muted speech can be heard around the corner.

“Listen, it’s not perfect but it’s the best I could do given the time constraints. It’s practically unidentifiable.”

She turns to walk away and I hurry to her side.

“I know it’s not as good as a new one, but believe me, it looks fine. And what does it really matter what it looks like as long as it’s function is realized?”

Her cold glare communicates nothing but impatience. She moves to an empty work station and boots up the CD. She assesses the modifications and feigns interest. It’s nothing more than a game to her.

“It will do.” We stand as she finalizes her changes. “My time is up.”

Now this is worth a smile. She seems to think that placing a label to her time will free her from its grasp. Can she really believe she is in control?

“You mock me,” she replies with a smile of her own.

“No, not at all. I just had an odd thought.”

She slips her left hand awkwardly into her pocket. I tilt my head in question.

Her right hand flies towards my face at an inhuman speed. As her fist forms I side step and slow the blow with my own arm. We are now at each others side. She continues with her swing and throws her balled hand at my back. I catch it easily in my palm.

So she does remember.

“This has only just begun,” she says, “They will pay for their unfulfilled promises.”

I can’t help but smile as she walks away. She remembers, but she does not understand.

So go the games of the dead.

To be… continued(upward intonation)? Dun dun dun(downward intonation)…

Mister, you’re on fire, Mister

Dunder Mifflin Stamford Branch: Takin’ shots at the trashcan

(note the glorious double meaning of that statement)

Jen, you are a pro. Shot glass? Call of Duty? Help me out here. Mc. Frikin’. Office party.

Yesterday I interviewed a three year old for my language development class. It was fun. I mean, it was really fun. We spent half an hour just talking and playing with toys. G- is my young playmate. K- and M- are his sisters. The numbered lines are his comments. My commentary appears in parenthesis.

I was recording the conversation with my mp3 player. Halfway through I handed him the device. I showed him where the mic was located and told him how to turn on the back light.

14. My sister is up there.
Oh ok. Is that kind of heavy or is it kind of light? (referring to the voice recorder he was holding)
15. It’s kind of white. (good call, it is kinda white)
Kind of light? White? Oh, I see.
16. K-, where is it? Oh.
What are you looking for G-?
17. This. K-’s wallyball. (wallyball is teh r0xor game)
Oh, I see.
18. This is what turns the back light back on. (at this point he begins explaining how the mp3 player works to his sister)
What button did you push G-? Oh nice, that’s the right button, good job.
19. K-, this is a hole that goes my voice goes in. And it goes in the hole. (hehe, his voice goes in the microphone hole)

//

Do you want to play a game G-?
20. Mmhmm
What game should we play?
21. Wallball.
You wana do wallball?
22. Mmhmm. K- where’s? Oh, here’s the ball. You go. And catch it. It’s almost gunna turn off. (the back light is about to turn off on the voice recorder)
How long do you think it takes to turn the light off on that one?
23. Mmm, this many. (he shows me the dark screen of the player)
G-, show him how old you are.
24. Mmm
How old is that?
25. Three.
You’re three?
26. Mmhmm.
Oh wow.
27. Oh, it’s turning off again. (silly back light)
Uh oh, uh oh
28. I’m gunna tell M- about. (hah, more instruction)

//

(so as I’m reading over this I realize that I sound a bit harsh. I just want to say that I’m having a giggle fit at this point in the conversation and said this in a very kind and gentle manner. Anyway, he was experimenting with different buttons on the mp3 player and had just stopped the recording and almost deleted it :D)

G-, don’t push that one ok?
29. Ok.
That’s like the secret button. We can only push that one a couple times.
30. Just one time?
Well, we can push it like one more time but, here I’ll tell you when we can push it. We have to be careful when we push that one.
31. When can we push it?
Um, I’ll tell you when. In maybe like five minutes, is that ok?
32. Mmhmm.
Ok.
33. 1-2-3-4-5 (clever G-)

The interview took place close to my parents home and I stopped by for dinner (mmmm, food).

Bradley: I can lift 240 lbs. with my left calf.
Mom: No cows in the house.
Dad: Bradley attributes his muscular physique to his ‘one minute workout’.
Jules: Why do I ever turn my voice recorder off?

// Brad gets up from the table and struts into the family room like a pro.

Bradley: Gimme one minute on the timer, mother.
Mother: (gives one minute on the timer) Mark.

// Brad goes berserk flailing all his muscles at once. Harry moves in for the kill (I guess you don’t need THOSE ankles any more) and Mom fakes a broken arm.

Bradley: The key (spasm) is to strain (spasm) all your muscles at the same time. (spasm) (spasm) The workout is a killer (spasm) but it builds muscle (spasm) like a double dose of whey.

// 60 seconds later;

Dad: Time.
Brad: (doubled over in pain) ‘The One Minute Workout.’ Keep an eye out for it in stores. Kids ask for it by name.

I have explored the sixth floor of the library. The locked doors may be enough of a deterrent for most BYU students but I was not routed. I used some secrit sheare skills to force my way through the blockade. I always pictured a large room behind the doors but was surprised to find, instead, a long corridor. I went into stealth mode and quietly moved down the hallway.

I had just come to some interesting looking restrooms when I heard a door open behind me. I made a dash to get out of sight, but too slow! I turned to find two female civilians looking misplaced and confused. They had followed me in with no knowledge of the terror beyond.

“Turn back!” I whispered, “It’s a secret corridor.”

They laughed, unaware of the danger they were in. When they turned back the way they had come, I pressed on. This is where my memory gets kinda fuzzy but I started to panic a bit. Next thing I know, I’m running as fast as I can, desperately looking for an exit. I run through some double doors, half a flight of stairs, and then drop down a high speed elevator.

I exit the elevator and find myself on the first floor. As I run up the stairs I can hear the sounds of an opera growing in strength. I dash for the main doors and steal a glance at the library guard. Fortunately, he is occupied with his computer. Only one obstacle stands between me and the sweet night air: The security sensors.

I quiet my mind and give full attention to the burial of my criminal actions. I near the machine. My ears buzz as its telekinetic waves seek to discern my fear. The sensor knows that something is wrong… but what? I hold strong against the mental onslaught. A high piercing whine fills my ears as I pass through the plastic arms, but I am free. Oh beautiful night.

Ethics aside (little miss devil’s advocate), where does honesty err?

Muhahaha! Oh, the treachery inherent in this post. I hope that it decays; may it decay; I hope that it decomposes; may it decompose; I hope that it festers; may it fester; I hope that it rots; may it rot.

I slept five hours last night. /cheer. The past few days I’ve been having difficulty sleeping. I would sleep for about four hours and awake fully conscious and unable to drift back. Last night I had a breakthrough, of sorts, in that I slept for almost exactly five hours.

The other day I ate five chicken nuggets. Wendy’s gave me one packet of BBQ sauce. I don’t like the taste of chicken nuggets submerged in BBQ sauce. I dipped my chicken nuggets in BBQ sauce. I didn’t like the taste but it was a good expenditure of my time.

They fortify it so that you will grow up to be big and strong and ricket-free.

Fortified foods are the major dietary sources of vitamin D. Prior to the fortification of milk products in the 1930s, rickets (a bone disease seen in children) was a major public health problem in the US. Milk in the United States is fortified with 10 micrograms (400 IU) of vitamin D per quart, and rickets is now uncommon in the US.

This is the part where I go home.

Today I will print out one(1) 8.5″ x 11″ paper. Scream really loud. Lie on the grass. Interview a four year old. Eat with my family. Write up a transcript. Read my PSYCH textbook. Wana play?

jello your stapler
snipe your buddy
kick a trashcan
egg the enemy

yeah. sounds about right.

And may I add, support your local Diwali festival.

But sad day. Sad day. Why so sad, you ask? Ahem.

1. My vehicle failed its safety inspection (break problems).

2. Fixing the brakes cost $500.

3. While fixing my brakes, NAPA rolled my window down. It won’t roll back up.

4. My cell phone no longer works.

5. My hands are shaking uncontrollably.

6. It’s 80 degrees in the LRC.

7. And most tragic of all - I will be unable to watch “The Office” this evening.

In other news, I ate some raspberries and muffins. Do they sell Verizon at the bookstore?

Say Anything is a real boy now, Mr. Geppetto.

My phone has been off since Monday. For a few days I noticed that when I would try to charge the device, the results were variable. Sometimes it would charge fine, other times it would not charge at all. More and more often it would refuse to charge when plugged in. Saturday was the last day that it charged at all. The phone died at about 3:30pm on Monday afternoon.

I thought that the problem was with the charger. $14 and a broken wall (rage-fill roundhouse kick to the outlet) later I realize that it is the phone, not the charger that is having problems. A hehehehe. I feel happy suddenly. I always thought mean thoughts about people who would say things like “sometimes it’s nice to not be able to be contacted.” But now I just want to say that… it’s a good feeling. It’s like one less thing to worry about.

It doesn’t matter if I leave it on vibrate and miss a call… I’m missing the call anyway.

Anyway, I don’t even know where to go to get a new phone. I think I’ll just try and find a Verizon dealer (can you say that? a Verizon dealer?) around Provo and grab a new one. I’m pretty clueless about this so if anyone has some info on the phone replacement process, I would love to hear.

I’ve always disliked scary movies. I would get way into them and terrify myself for weeks. The ring freaked me out. I saw it in theaters with some friends and about died. I averted my eyes for a good portion of the movie and tried to divert my attention by playing paper, rock, scissors. After the movie I was too scared to return home and had to sleep over at a friend’s house.

Last night I was in a rare mood and decided I wanted to be scared (happy freakin’ Halloween). I watched two ’scary’ movies while sucking on whoppers (Now correct me if I’m wrong but whoppers are the best candy to eat while watching movies. You just suck on them till the chocolate coating comes off, then if you create a vacuum in your mouth, the crunchy balls will dissolve / crush.).

I really had a hard time getting frightened. Maybe the movies were to blame but I just wasn’t scared. I mean, I really wanted to scream, and scream I did… But I don’t feel traumatized (/sigh).

The first real scream I gave was forced at the beginning. I wanted to scream and saw that I would have an opportunity. As a started screaming tho, the scene became more frightening than expected and my scream took on a maniacal quality. It was exhilarating.

While trying to fall asleep I was still feeling unconcerned and tried in vain to frighten myself. It just wasn’t happening. Vroom vroom (go speed racer).

I thought I was getting over it, but I realize now that I’m falling backwards. How it eats away, that edge of desperation. It’s so very hard to turn. Yes or no?