Interesting...I just noticed that this is my 99th post. Hmm, going to have to come up with something especially clever or witty for my 100th...THE PRESSURE IS TOO MUCH!!!
Today, though, I have to be neither witty nor clever. Hence, the following excerpt from the log of a typical Midway Family Saturday morning (from back when I was 8).
6:00am Woke up to my brother Nemesis clattering down the bunk bed ladder. Debate about what to do.
6:02 Static electricity war commences. Yay for wool pajamas!
6:10 Ordered back to bed by Mom. Fleeing for our lives ensues.
6:15 After careful listening at the door, it is determined that Mom returned upstairs to go back to bed.
6:16 Nemesis and I have a quiet stuffed animal war.
6:21 Truce is declared. I climb up into Nemesis's bunk to hide under the covers with him and pretend that we're under attack by aliens.
6:52 Nemesis and I vacate the bunk at the faint sound of a flush from upstairs. Static electricity war recommences.
7:00 We head upstairs to determine the affairs of breakfast.
7:01 Quill looks like her hair got caught in a blender. Squirrel is apparently still down for the count. Mom is also still in bed; Dad is prepping the griddle for omelettes.
7:02 All kids (save Squirrel) are put to work. I grate cheese, Quill unloads the dishwasher, and Nemesis sets the table. Dad looks at the calendar and decides that the truck needs an oil change today.
7:03 Much loud rejoicing is effectively quenched by Dad's threat that noisy children will be left at home. Quieter rejoicing continues.
7:11 Squirrel is rousted out of bed and the family sits down for breakfast.
7:30 Post-breakfast clean-up. I try to sneak out but am caught and ordered to load the dishwasher.
7:42 Family adjourns to get dressed.
8:01 Nemesis and I have been ready since 7:43 and have spent the last 19 minutes arguing about who gets to sit shotgun. Wrestling match is broken up by Dad. No sign of girls.
8:30 Nemesis and I are pulled away from our Erector sets when the girls finally appear. Mom opts to stay home. All four of us kids try to get into the shotgun seat at the same time. Mass confusion.
8:35 Squirrel gets front middle, I get shotgun, and Nemesis and Quill sit in the back, where they amuse themselves by poking me.
8:40 Dad cracks bad jokes. "You know who was in denial? Moses. Moses was in de Nile!!"
8:43 Dad unrolls the windows, then rolls them back up as soon as we stick our hands out. Game promptly ensues to see if Dad can act quick enough to shut the windows on our hands before we can pull them back in. Kids always win. Much gloating.
8:45 I forgot about the game and rested my chin on the window. Dad popped the window up far enough to smack me in the jaw. Much laughter all around.
8:46 Made it to the Public Utilities garage! Dad and I immediately begin to move the hydraulic lift arms under the truck so he can lift it up. I extend the arms, and he positions them. Nemesis helps; Quill and Squirrel unload the oil and the filters.
8:51 Dad lets us all have a turn pushing the button to raise the truck off the ground. Much rejoicing all around.
8:54 Kids scatter into the depths of the huge garage to explore the giant trucks.
8:59 I discover a backhoe. Nemesis and I pretend that it is a turret on a spaceship and open fire on the girls when they appear.
9:00 Hide and seek!!
9:10 I try to figure out how to climb back out of the huge truck bed that I somehow fell into.
9:15 All the kids play spies. Dad is still working on the truck.
9:17 Dad calls us back to the lowering of the truck. Much cheering.
9:19 We form a line to hand Dad oil bottles. Nemesis grabs, I open, Dad pours, Quill discards, and Squirrel picks up the caps.
9:23 Dad decides to wash the truck. I get the high-pressure wash nozzle.
9:24 Dad captures the nozzle, ending the water war. All kids are sternly ordered out.
9:34 Kids are allowed back in. Dad announces that he has "a few things to check" in his office and invites us to come in with him.
9:41 Kids are installed on a computer and allowed to play Pinball on it. Turns are taken at the paddle keys.
10:40 Computer is vacated in favor of hide and seek.
10:51 Dad is queried about the availability of the whiteboard in the conference room. Permission is given to draw on it "if there's nothing written on it already."
10:55 Quill and Squirrel draw. Nemesis and I spin around on the big conference chairs before noticing they have wheels and begin racing.
11:06 Dad begins calling us so we can leave.
11:17 Dad finds us.
11:19 Dad decides all the calling has made him thirsty. Stops at a pop machine for a Dr Pepper. Root beer is procured for the kids after much wheedling.
11:24 Everyone tries to get in the shotgun seat again.
11:26 Positions switched. Squirrel and I are in the back, Nemesis and Quill get front.
11:44 Everyone piles out of the truck when we get home. Mom bemoans the state of our clothes but thanks Dad for giving her the morning off. Dad gives us the evil eye but assures Mom we were as good as gold. Lunch is eaten with pardonable swiftness before all the kids adjourn to the backyard for the afternoon.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 98: Put Out to Pasture
Honestly? I'm not sure whose idea it was. I'd like to take credit for it, but the odds are that someone just lost a baseball out in that field and, while everyone was crawling around on their hands and knees, decided "Hey, this is kind of fun!"
I refer, of course, to the extensive system of hallways and rooms created in the tall grass in our pasture; an area so vast and so riddled with passageways and rooms, we kids got lost.
About a year or so after we moved in, Dad's prairie grass came up in the front pasture. This wasn't really all that exciting until it grew taller than me, a feat which is all the more impressive because my 12-year-old self was currently engaged in yet another growth spurt. (It's only recently that I quit changing pant sizes two or three times every summer, and thank goodness too. Any taller and I would start clocking my head on every single doorframe.)
As kids, of course, my siblings and I did what came naturally; build forts in it. This was accomplished by carefully flattening the grass into the ground, creating rooms and hallways with VERY comfortable floors and walls taller than we were. It was possible, of course, to jump high enough to see over the grass, but that was avoided at all costs. I'd imagine that it would be amusing to see the religiousness with which we refused to just break through "walls" of our rooms and hallways every time we got lost; we always followed the pre-existing routes when we were not in construction mode.
Sometimes, we played games out there. As I recall, pretending to be mice was our favorite, especially after I saw a very confused mouse regarding us quizzically from the undergrowth. I made all kinds of new hallways trying to catch him, but he got away. Regardless, we scuttled around on our hands and knees until they were so permanently green that Mom just about gave up on trying to remove the stains. This led to a new game where we all pretended to be frogs...
That was also the summer where I received a cork gun. It was a pretty basic piece wood shaped like a gun, with a piece of pipe over the barrel that one extended, loaded a cork, and than yanked back on hard to fire the cork straight into little siblings' foreheads. I'm not sure who gave it to me. I doubt it was my parents; I give them more credit for caution than that. To be fair, it did come with a cork fastened securely by way of a string to the gun so that it couldn't fly further than a foot. On the other hand, it took me about three seconds to remove said string, and another ten minutes to modify the rubber seal for a tighter fit to the pipe. When I was completed, I had an awesome gun that could kill grasshoppers from about a foot away. (It wasn't accurate at any other distance, but it went quite a ways.)
Anyway, my brother Nemesis would load up on rubber bands, Quill would grab a small compound bow, and I would bring my gun out to the pasture, where we spent happy afternoons playing as bandits or robbers. My sister Squirrel joined us, but she preferred to load up with 4th of July parade candy--she had an overactive sweet tooth and a detest for violence, even pretend violence. She was usually our "cook."
Dad's dream was to be able to cut all the prairie grass down in the fall and bale it for hay. Unfortunately, that didn't happen, so he was forced to purchase hay bales. We kids helped him unload it and stack it neatly in the barn, then gleefully rearranged it into a fort the second his back was turned. A few weeks later, he restacked all the bales by himself. Nothing daunted, we destroyed that pile too and built a cave. Fortunately for Dad's sanity, it snowed soon after, and we were all so busy building caves and forts in the huge drifts that covered our farm (yay hills!) that we didn't even notice when he took apart our haystack cavern and restacked the bales again.
...I'm starting to realize why Mom banned us from the house during all summers. We were destructive little squirts...
I refer, of course, to the extensive system of hallways and rooms created in the tall grass in our pasture; an area so vast and so riddled with passageways and rooms, we kids got lost.
About a year or so after we moved in, Dad's prairie grass came up in the front pasture. This wasn't really all that exciting until it grew taller than me, a feat which is all the more impressive because my 12-year-old self was currently engaged in yet another growth spurt. (It's only recently that I quit changing pant sizes two or three times every summer, and thank goodness too. Any taller and I would start clocking my head on every single doorframe.)
As kids, of course, my siblings and I did what came naturally; build forts in it. This was accomplished by carefully flattening the grass into the ground, creating rooms and hallways with VERY comfortable floors and walls taller than we were. It was possible, of course, to jump high enough to see over the grass, but that was avoided at all costs. I'd imagine that it would be amusing to see the religiousness with which we refused to just break through "walls" of our rooms and hallways every time we got lost; we always followed the pre-existing routes when we were not in construction mode.
Sometimes, we played games out there. As I recall, pretending to be mice was our favorite, especially after I saw a very confused mouse regarding us quizzically from the undergrowth. I made all kinds of new hallways trying to catch him, but he got away. Regardless, we scuttled around on our hands and knees until they were so permanently green that Mom just about gave up on trying to remove the stains. This led to a new game where we all pretended to be frogs...
That was also the summer where I received a cork gun. It was a pretty basic piece wood shaped like a gun, with a piece of pipe over the barrel that one extended, loaded a cork, and than yanked back on hard to fire the cork straight into little siblings' foreheads. I'm not sure who gave it to me. I doubt it was my parents; I give them more credit for caution than that. To be fair, it did come with a cork fastened securely by way of a string to the gun so that it couldn't fly further than a foot. On the other hand, it took me about three seconds to remove said string, and another ten minutes to modify the rubber seal for a tighter fit to the pipe. When I was completed, I had an awesome gun that could kill grasshoppers from about a foot away. (It wasn't accurate at any other distance, but it went quite a ways.)
Anyway, my brother Nemesis would load up on rubber bands, Quill would grab a small compound bow, and I would bring my gun out to the pasture, where we spent happy afternoons playing as bandits or robbers. My sister Squirrel joined us, but she preferred to load up with 4th of July parade candy--she had an overactive sweet tooth and a detest for violence, even pretend violence. She was usually our "cook."
Dad's dream was to be able to cut all the prairie grass down in the fall and bale it for hay. Unfortunately, that didn't happen, so he was forced to purchase hay bales. We kids helped him unload it and stack it neatly in the barn, then gleefully rearranged it into a fort the second his back was turned. A few weeks later, he restacked all the bales by himself. Nothing daunted, we destroyed that pile too and built a cave. Fortunately for Dad's sanity, it snowed soon after, and we were all so busy building caves and forts in the huge drifts that covered our farm (yay hills!) that we didn't even notice when he took apart our haystack cavern and restacked the bales again.
...I'm starting to realize why Mom banned us from the house during all summers. We were destructive little squirts...
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 97: Songs of my iPod
I'm back at college and once again relying on music in order to keep hold on my rather tenuous grip on sanity.
...whoops, I just let go.
Hopefully, I'll get to write later today regarding another of my childhood exploits that involved a bunch of weeds and some tootsie rolls, but until then, I thought I'd post some of my favorite songs and the ones I have listened to the most over the past few weeks, in case you feel like you need some new songs. The top five or so are the most listened to, in order, but then I decided that ordering all these would be too much of a pain...so the rest of these are in the order that I remembered them and wrote them down. Yay for laziness, right?
Name Artist
Citizen/Soldier Three Doors Down
Teenage Rebel Chameleon Circuit
Changes Three Doors Down
Fighter Gym Class Heroes
Duck and Run Three Doors Down
Walk Over Me All-American Rejects
Rocket Def Leppard
Waiting Trapt
Rebirthing Skillet
Good Time Owl City
Only One in Color Trapt
The Other Side Aerosmith
Real Gone Rascal Flatts
It's Not Me It's You Skillet
Right Where I Belong Three Doors Down
Alligator Sky Owl City
Pages Three Doors Down
Danger Zone Kenny Loggins
Exterminate/Regenerate Chameleon Circuit
Echo Trapt
Dreams Don't Turn to Dust Owl City
Life is a Highway Rascal Flatts
Nightmares Chameleon Circuit
I'm Alright Kenny Loggins
Deer in the Headlights Owl City
Captains of the Sky Sky Sailing
These Walls Trapt
Blink Chameleon Circuit
Monster Skillet
Footloose Kenny Loggins
Headstrong Trapt
Falling Inside the Black Skillet
I'll probably update this later as I think of more songs. If I could only recommend one artist, I'd say to check out Three Doors Down, because they are AWESOME!!!
...whoops, I just let go.
Hopefully, I'll get to write later today regarding another of my childhood exploits that involved a bunch of weeds and some tootsie rolls, but until then, I thought I'd post some of my favorite songs and the ones I have listened to the most over the past few weeks, in case you feel like you need some new songs. The top five or so are the most listened to, in order, but then I decided that ordering all these would be too much of a pain...so the rest of these are in the order that I remembered them and wrote them down. Yay for laziness, right?
Name Artist
Citizen/Soldier Three Doors Down
Teenage Rebel Chameleon Circuit
Changes Three Doors Down
Fighter Gym Class Heroes
Duck and Run Three Doors Down
Walk Over Me All-American Rejects
Rocket Def Leppard
Waiting Trapt
Rebirthing Skillet
Good Time Owl City
Only One in Color Trapt
The Other Side Aerosmith
Real Gone Rascal Flatts
It's Not Me It's You Skillet
Right Where I Belong Three Doors Down
Alligator Sky Owl City
Pages Three Doors Down
Danger Zone Kenny Loggins
Exterminate/Regenerate Chameleon Circuit
Echo Trapt
Dreams Don't Turn to Dust Owl City
Life is a Highway Rascal Flatts
Nightmares Chameleon Circuit
I'm Alright Kenny Loggins
Deer in the Headlights Owl City
Captains of the Sky Sky Sailing
These Walls Trapt
Blink Chameleon Circuit
Monster Skillet
Footloose Kenny Loggins
Headstrong Trapt
Falling Inside the Black Skillet
I'll probably update this later as I think of more songs. If I could only recommend one artist, I'd say to check out Three Doors Down, because they are AWESOME!!!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 96: But I wish I was invulnerable!
I've never had a problem with believing that I'm invulnerable. My active and klutzy lifestyle would have quickly debunked such notions in short order.
...no, I have a problem with believing that I will magically heal within thirty seconds. Like Wolverine. Except, sadly, I have no claws.
Fortunately for me, I do heal pretty quickly, which I tend to take unfair advantage of. My train of thought tends to go like this: Let's see, I have a game this weekend...and today is Monday...so anything short of a broken bone should be fine. "YO NEMESIS!!! Wanna try out my new invention? I call it the Human Catapult! Just pull the trigger when I say FIRE!!!"
...no, I have a problem with believing that I will magically heal within thirty seconds. Like Wolverine. Except, sadly, I have no claws.
 |
| Subtract the claws and the coolness factor, and this is me on a daily basis. |
Fortunately for me, I do heal pretty quickly, which I tend to take unfair advantage of. My train of thought tends to go like this: Let's see, I have a game this weekend...and today is Monday...so anything short of a broken bone should be fine. "YO NEMESIS!!! Wanna try out my new invention? I call it the Human Catapult! Just pull the trigger when I say FIRE!!!"
Just kidding. I've never made a human catapult. On purpose. A vine and some really springy trees once made an accidental one. I cleared 20 feet. It was AWESOME!!!
Oh, and by the way, a new law was formulated by my brother Nemesis and myself. It's called Midway's Law. "Anyone can FLY...but it takes a real genius to LAND." Originally, our law read "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong," but it turned out some guy named Murphy copywrited that one already. Lame. We've avoided such issues with our new law by doing absolutely no research whatsoever so as not to have our hopes dashed.
 |
| Yepp, that's me. Be warned, dangit!!! |
Today's epic decision was floating paper boats on the pond and attempting to blow them up with various fireworks...my reasoning being, any burns I could acquire should be reasonably healed by tomorrow so I can go to work. That was ALMOST put to the test, as one of the fireworks was a wee bit bigger than expected. Oopsies.
 |
| ...also me on a daily basis... |
Oh well, I'm sure there's a lesson here somewhere. I'll figure it out eventually...when I'm not designing my new SUPERLASER!!!! Nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong there...
 |
| Okay, that's a half-finished Nerf gun...close enough... |
...right?? RIGHT??? RII--
*ZAAAAAAAAAP*
By the way, check out Nick Spark's blog From the Mouth of a Sheep. His post was kind of the inspiration for this article (and is a whole lot better than mine!).
By the way, check out Nick Spark's blog From the Mouth of a Sheep. His post was kind of the inspiration for this article (and is a whole lot better than mine!).
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 95: Another Midnight Romp (at 1am)
I defy anyone to sleep when the moon is shining STRAIGHT THROUGH YOUR WINDOW AND INTO YOUR EYES.
Well, that and I wasn't very tired to begin with. Time to fix that!
I hopped out of bed and headed out of my room. I live in the basement of the house, so initially I didn't have to be too stealthy...which was a good thing, because I sideswiped the couch and wiped out.
Klutziness taken care of for the night, I continued on my way upstairs to fetch my sister Quill, being incredibly more careful than I had been at first. Everyone else in my family were pretty heavy sleepers, so I wasn't too concerned about waking them up; but Squirrel slept with a half shi-tzu, half poodle (shi-poo) that never really liked me and barked his stupid little head off every time I approached. His name was Bobo, but upon returning home from college and seeing his size post-bath and how he got chased by the cat, I promptly dubbed him "Rodent." That thing was just too small to be a dog.
I successfully avoided the squeaky step at the top of the stairs and carefully felt around for the doorknob to Quill's room. Easing the door open, I slipped inside and shut it behind me, thanking God that the Rodent hadn't started yipping. (I probably would have been severely tempted to drop-kicked him if he had.)
There was a rustling noise from the bed, then a sleepy voice whispered, "Will?"
I jumped, a bit startled. "You're awake?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Well, it's 12 at night--well, actually, it's closer to one at night, and I have insomnia, and the moon is REALLY STINKING BRIGHT, and it's really nice outside, at least I think it is, and we still haven't snuck outside yet this summer, so I was wondering if you wanted to come," I explained in a whisper, ungrammatically and without conciseness.
Quill sat up. "Sure! Meet you downstairs!"
"Gotcha. Beware the Rodent!" I warned melodramatically and vanished out the door to wait in the entryway.
Quill joined me with gratifying promptness, so we headed out the back door through our ACTUAL dog's (Max, a golden retriever) bedroom, which was the mudroom.
"One thing I'm glad about Maxie is that he never barks," Quill noted with approval as we slipped out the back door.
"He did once," I snickered.
"Really? When?"
"Well, remember when I lived upstairs with Nemesis? I used to sneak down to the middle floor bathroom if I had to go. Well, one night, I scared Maxie and he barked, so I quickly ran into the bathroom to hide because I heard Dad coming down to check it out. Turns out Dad needed to use the bathroom too, so when he got into the bathroom and turned on the light, I was hiding behind the door!"
Quill clapped her hands over her mouth to suppress a laugh. "Was he scared?"
"Understatement. I probably gave him some grey hairs," I joked. "Let's go run out on the front lawn!"
We had about 4 acres of front lawn, which was an inviting prospect for both of us. We took off, arms waving in such a manner that it would have been impossible for an observer to predict where they were going next. Once out on the front lawn, we did a bit of stargazing ("The Big Dipper...the North Star..." "There's the Archer. He looks like a teapot!") before deciding that the brightness of the Moon was really not going to be helpful in aiding our efforts in Astronomy.
I closed my eyes. "Quill, count for me. I'm going to do that spinning thing."
20 spins later, I wasn't too dizzy, but as soon as I opened my eyes and looked at the moon, I fell over like I'd been punched. I was laughing so hard I was having trouble breathing, so I didn't make any noise; but Quill had to once again hold her hands over her mouth to suppress her giggles.
After I regained my balance, we walked over to the pond to see if we could scare up any frogs (no go). Then I suggested a short jaunt into the woods behind our house (five acres of that, too), but Quill shook her head. "Skunks," she said, by way of explanation.
"Oh, come on," I urged. "If there are any, we'll smell them LONG before we see them! Well, you will anyway," I added as an afterthought, remember that I couldn't actually smell, a fact that the parental unit had taken advantage of on the several occasions Maxie had picked a fight with a skunk. Guess who got to wash him?
"Fine...just a little ways," Quill conceded. "You go first."
I snickered and took off. After we reached the limit of Quill's comfort zone, we turned around and came back. I mimed howling at the house, but Quill smacked me. "Shhhh! You'll wake up Bobo!"
"You're right," I agreed. "Stupid Rodent would probably start yipping."
"Think we should head in?"
"Yeah, probably. I think I'm suitably tired now."
We parted ways at the stairs; I went down, she went up. I don't remember actually getting back to my room...
...probably because I was sleepwalking at that point. I can fall asleep really fast....
Well, that and I wasn't very tired to begin with. Time to fix that!
I hopped out of bed and headed out of my room. I live in the basement of the house, so initially I didn't have to be too stealthy...which was a good thing, because I sideswiped the couch and wiped out.
Klutziness taken care of for the night, I continued on my way upstairs to fetch my sister Quill, being incredibly more careful than I had been at first. Everyone else in my family were pretty heavy sleepers, so I wasn't too concerned about waking them up; but Squirrel slept with a half shi-tzu, half poodle (shi-poo) that never really liked me and barked his stupid little head off every time I approached. His name was Bobo, but upon returning home from college and seeing his size post-bath and how he got chased by the cat, I promptly dubbed him "Rodent." That thing was just too small to be a dog.
I successfully avoided the squeaky step at the top of the stairs and carefully felt around for the doorknob to Quill's room. Easing the door open, I slipped inside and shut it behind me, thanking God that the Rodent hadn't started yipping. (I probably would have been severely tempted to drop-kicked him if he had.)
There was a rustling noise from the bed, then a sleepy voice whispered, "Will?"
I jumped, a bit startled. "You're awake?"
"Yeah. What's up?"
"Well, it's 12 at night--well, actually, it's closer to one at night, and I have insomnia, and the moon is REALLY STINKING BRIGHT, and it's really nice outside, at least I think it is, and we still haven't snuck outside yet this summer, so I was wondering if you wanted to come," I explained in a whisper, ungrammatically and without conciseness.
Quill sat up. "Sure! Meet you downstairs!"
"Gotcha. Beware the Rodent!" I warned melodramatically and vanished out the door to wait in the entryway.
Quill joined me with gratifying promptness, so we headed out the back door through our ACTUAL dog's (Max, a golden retriever) bedroom, which was the mudroom.
"One thing I'm glad about Maxie is that he never barks," Quill noted with approval as we slipped out the back door.
"He did once," I snickered.
"Really? When?"
"Well, remember when I lived upstairs with Nemesis? I used to sneak down to the middle floor bathroom if I had to go. Well, one night, I scared Maxie and he barked, so I quickly ran into the bathroom to hide because I heard Dad coming down to check it out. Turns out Dad needed to use the bathroom too, so when he got into the bathroom and turned on the light, I was hiding behind the door!"
Quill clapped her hands over her mouth to suppress a laugh. "Was he scared?"
"Understatement. I probably gave him some grey hairs," I joked. "Let's go run out on the front lawn!"
We had about 4 acres of front lawn, which was an inviting prospect for both of us. We took off, arms waving in such a manner that it would have been impossible for an observer to predict where they were going next. Once out on the front lawn, we did a bit of stargazing ("The Big Dipper...the North Star..." "There's the Archer. He looks like a teapot!") before deciding that the brightness of the Moon was really not going to be helpful in aiding our efforts in Astronomy.
I closed my eyes. "Quill, count for me. I'm going to do that spinning thing."
20 spins later, I wasn't too dizzy, but as soon as I opened my eyes and looked at the moon, I fell over like I'd been punched. I was laughing so hard I was having trouble breathing, so I didn't make any noise; but Quill had to once again hold her hands over her mouth to suppress her giggles.
After I regained my balance, we walked over to the pond to see if we could scare up any frogs (no go). Then I suggested a short jaunt into the woods behind our house (five acres of that, too), but Quill shook her head. "Skunks," she said, by way of explanation.
"Oh, come on," I urged. "If there are any, we'll smell them LONG before we see them! Well, you will anyway," I added as an afterthought, remember that I couldn't actually smell, a fact that the parental unit had taken advantage of on the several occasions Maxie had picked a fight with a skunk. Guess who got to wash him?
"Fine...just a little ways," Quill conceded. "You go first."
I snickered and took off. After we reached the limit of Quill's comfort zone, we turned around and came back. I mimed howling at the house, but Quill smacked me. "Shhhh! You'll wake up Bobo!"
"You're right," I agreed. "Stupid Rodent would probably start yipping."
"Think we should head in?"
"Yeah, probably. I think I'm suitably tired now."
We parted ways at the stairs; I went down, she went up. I don't remember actually getting back to my room...
...probably because I was sleepwalking at that point. I can fall asleep really fast....
Friday, August 3, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 94: NEVER!!! and some links...
I got punched in the head by my brother Nemesis yesterday.
I'm not really sure who to blame for that: Nemesis for not pulling the shot, or me for not blocking it. Don't worry, we weren't fighting...well, weren't seriously fighting...well....
Nemesis and I are currently working on a stunt-action fighting sequence that we plan to film eventually (and will post up on here when it comes out). It's really fun to create, except for those moments where we both forget what we're supposed to be doing and end up wrestling. I'm naturally aggressive, so I have to be careful not to forget that this is FAKE combat; very difficult for me. Nemesis's naturally defensive, which is amusing because sometimes he blocks at shots that he thinks I might throw, leading to him actually hitting me, because I'm not expecting to get hit with a block, which just seems weird.
It's part of the reason I love sparring; I really enjoy the chance to hit/be hit without repercussions...well, serious repercussions...well, from certain parental units who think that sibling fighting is a bad thing or something. I will admit that friend of mine accidentally knocked me out once, which was an educational and enlightening experience, and by "enlightening" I mean I saw lots and lots of bright lights swimming around my field of vision once I regained consciousness. It would have been an opportunity to do some mental astronomy and begin naming some of the constellations if it hadn't been for the fact that I had complete amnesia and short-term memory loss for the next thirty minutes. I suspect that I was very entertaining for everyone but my parents, who were naturally freaking out. Well, Mom was, anyway. Anyway, I recovered fairly quickly after I remembered who I was, but unfortunately I was not allowed to spar again because 1) Mom thought I needed to go to the hospital and 2) class had ended 15 minutes ago. My siblings were disappointed to discover that no one had taken video ("You mean it won't be on YOUTUBE?????").
I will also admit to not knowing when to give up...or, to be more precise, knowing when to give up, which will be sometime after the universe comes to a screeching halt and the winged monkeys bring Elvis back. I.E. never. This do-or-die mentality can be amusing, but it's also led to fractured bones (in my foot, after a few sparring matches ago when my best kick got blocked by an elbow). This trait is so hardwired in me that Mom reported that it was hugely present after I woke up from anesthesia after my wisdom teeth were removed. Despite the return of complete amnesia and short-term memory loss, I was still insistent on driving the car. According to Mom (I can't remember), I kept telling her, "No, it's okay, I can drive! I'm fine," and then walking into walls. Okay, I actually said something like "Mo, if ofay, E n wive! Mm fn," as I still had gauze in my mouth, but I think I made my point. Mom drove.
I guess this mentality is useful under certain circumstances, such as stupid stunts, new inventions, or the grill incident, which has led my siblings to allow me to try most things first, figuring that 1) I can take a lot of damage, like getting my hand crushed or having a rocket detonate in my lap, and 2) if I die, I'll probably deserve it because I'm a moron. (They're not far wrong...I mean, I hit up a storm sewer to get a frog. What does THAT say?)
Alright, I'm done with the links, I promise. I just discovered that LINKING IS FUN!!!!
So yeah, I'm headed off to practice my fighting sequence with Nemesis...and if anything funny happens, we'll put it up on YouTube. Wouldn't want to deprive the currently-absent parental unit of the fun of watching my younger brother knock me out....
...and does anyone know where the fire extinguisher is?
I'm not really sure who to blame for that: Nemesis for not pulling the shot, or me for not blocking it. Don't worry, we weren't fighting...well, weren't seriously fighting...well....
Nemesis and I are currently working on a stunt-action fighting sequence that we plan to film eventually (and will post up on here when it comes out). It's really fun to create, except for those moments where we both forget what we're supposed to be doing and end up wrestling. I'm naturally aggressive, so I have to be careful not to forget that this is FAKE combat; very difficult for me. Nemesis's naturally defensive, which is amusing because sometimes he blocks at shots that he thinks I might throw, leading to him actually hitting me, because I'm not expecting to get hit with a block, which just seems weird.
It's part of the reason I love sparring; I really enjoy the chance to hit/be hit without repercussions...well, serious repercussions...well, from certain parental units who think that sibling fighting is a bad thing or something. I will admit that friend of mine accidentally knocked me out once, which was an educational and enlightening experience, and by "enlightening" I mean I saw lots and lots of bright lights swimming around my field of vision once I regained consciousness. It would have been an opportunity to do some mental astronomy and begin naming some of the constellations if it hadn't been for the fact that I had complete amnesia and short-term memory loss for the next thirty minutes. I suspect that I was very entertaining for everyone but my parents, who were naturally freaking out. Well, Mom was, anyway. Anyway, I recovered fairly quickly after I remembered who I was, but unfortunately I was not allowed to spar again because 1) Mom thought I needed to go to the hospital and 2) class had ended 15 minutes ago. My siblings were disappointed to discover that no one had taken video ("You mean it won't be on YOUTUBE?????").
I will also admit to not knowing when to give up...or, to be more precise, knowing when to give up, which will be sometime after the universe comes to a screeching halt and the winged monkeys bring Elvis back. I.E. never. This do-or-die mentality can be amusing, but it's also led to fractured bones (in my foot, after a few sparring matches ago when my best kick got blocked by an elbow). This trait is so hardwired in me that Mom reported that it was hugely present after I woke up from anesthesia after my wisdom teeth were removed. Despite the return of complete amnesia and short-term memory loss, I was still insistent on driving the car. According to Mom (I can't remember), I kept telling her, "No, it's okay, I can drive! I'm fine," and then walking into walls. Okay, I actually said something like "Mo, if ofay, E n wive! Mm fn," as I still had gauze in my mouth, but I think I made my point. Mom drove.
I guess this mentality is useful under certain circumstances, such as stupid stunts, new inventions, or the grill incident, which has led my siblings to allow me to try most things first, figuring that 1) I can take a lot of damage, like getting my hand crushed or having a rocket detonate in my lap, and 2) if I die, I'll probably deserve it because I'm a moron. (They're not far wrong...I mean, I hit up a storm sewer to get a frog. What does THAT say?)
Alright, I'm done with the links, I promise. I just discovered that LINKING IS FUN!!!!
So yeah, I'm headed off to practice my fighting sequence with Nemesis...and if anything funny happens, we'll put it up on YouTube. Wouldn't want to deprive the currently-absent parental unit of the fun of watching my younger brother knock me out....
...and does anyone know where the fire extinguisher is?
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 93: I Just Won a Bet
Someone made a bet with me.
...and we all know how THAT'S gonna end...
Shorty made the sort of squealing noise normally associated with small rodents being stepped on. "EEEEEEE!!!! That's how many short jokes, now?"
I shrugged. "At least five in the last few minutes."
"Whyyyyyyy??"
I attempted to keep a straight face, but I defy anyone to manage that while watching a short person wave her hands around in hopeless futility. It was probably a good thing that she was a few thousand miles away from me at this precise moment, or she probably would have attempted to kill me. "Probably because short people are such an easy target?"
...and we all know how THAT'S gonna end...
Shorty made the sort of squealing noise normally associated with small rodents being stepped on. "EEEEEEE!!!! That's how many short jokes, now?"
I shrugged. "At least five in the last few minutes."
"Whyyyyyyy??"
I attempted to keep a straight face, but I defy anyone to manage that while watching a short person wave her hands around in hopeless futility. It was probably a good thing that she was a few thousand miles away from me at this precise moment, or she probably would have attempted to kill me. "Probably because short people are such an easy target?"
 |
| "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" |
Her face was priceless, even through the video chat app. I spared a moment to wish aloud, "Ughh, I wish I had a camera!!"
"It's a good thing you don't!" she retorted, a few milliseconds before I smacked myself. "Hey, what--"
"I'm an idiot!" I complained. "I can just take screenshots and save them!"
"What? NO! Wait, you wouldn't...would you?"
I was busily pulling open Paint windows in preparation for screenshots, in the meantime giving my best Cheshire Cat grin. Shorty groaned. "This is going to be another phone-in-the-toilet thing, isn't it?"
 |
| "Why am I talking to this freakishly tall lunatic?" Wonder if she means me...? |
The "phone-in-the-toilet thing" was referring to a prank I pulled on her last semester. She had forgotten where she had put her phone, and I found it before she did and quietly hid it. Then I made a quick trip to the bathroom. When I got back, Shorty was positive that I took it, so (being the absurd person that I am) I told her I hid it in the back of the toilet, in the little water container thingy. (I'm sure there's a word for it, but I can't think of it.) She knew I was kidding, and asked me why she thought I would believe such a thing; because if I'd REALLY dropped her phone in the water, she would have killed me on the spot. I told her that I'd sealed it in a Ziplock bag before I put it in there. After some back and forth discussion, I managed to convince her that I had put it in there, and she departed to check. When she was gone, I quickly put her phone back on the table. Shorty came back laughing and berating me for being a liar, and demanded to know WHERE HER PHONE WAS!!! I managed to keep a straight face while she rummaged through my backpack, but completely lost it when she discovered the phone sitting nicely on the table. I ostentatiously carried a Ziplock with me through the rest of the semester, and managed to trick her three more times with the same prank. It's been a running joke ever since; whenever I say something completely ridiculous that has a slight hint of possible truth (mostly when I'm trying to convince her of something), Shorty complains that "...it's going to be another "phone-in-the-toilet thing again!!!"
 |
| "...he wouldn't...would he? Noo, I'm sure he wouldn...EEEEEEE!!!!!" |
But I digress.
"Of course it won't!" I reassured Shorty. "I think I'll use these photos in an article about you!" (I had been kidding at the time.) "By the way, how did you like the other one you were in?"
More mouse noises. "When you texted me and said you were writing about me I thought you were just going to do like some random short joke and then I read it and you had a picture up and EEEEEE!!!! But it was awesome, I'll give you that!"
I applauded the run-on sentence. "Hmm, I should do an article on you..." I mused aloud, just to see what her reaction was.
Shorty fell over.
 |
| I wish I had been a bit faster with the screenshot on this one, but my computer locked up. She was midway through falling, though! |
"NO!!! YOU WOULDN'T!!! This is NOT going to be another phone-in-the-toilet incident NO!!! There's no way...I bet you won't! Noooo....."
I perked up. "You serious about that bet? How much are you willing to bet on that?"
Shorty glared at me, a wasted effort since the corners of her mouth kept twitching. "A lot less after that last article, but but still...noo, you wouldn't. Not a chance. I WILL NOT BE TRICKED AGAIN!!!"
...so that's the story behind the bet. I think I've perpetrated the perfect crime...now she's going to be forced to be completely confused regarding everything I say, because I might just do it!
And hilariously enough, Shorty just texted me to inquire, "You really didn't take those pics, did you?" I'm posting this to her wall and hiding for the rest of the year...did I mention she owns a lot of guns?
 |
| Maybe it's a short person thing...? They need to do SOMETHING to avoid getting stepped on.... |
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 92: The Zombies Are Coming!!!
THE ZOMBIES ARE COMING!!!
...okay, probably not. But it never hurts to be prepared, right?
I did an article way back when I was just starting this blog (and obviously sleep-deprived) entitled APOCALYPSE!!!!, with a few more exclamations points than I will put here because 1) I don't need to use up that much space, and 2) I'm lazy. However, due to some inexplicable oversight, I never bothered to cover the zombie apocalypse, which seems strange because I was one of the co-founders of the game Humans versus Zombies at my college.
Needless to say, I figure that it's high time I enlighten people on proper zombie avoidance, seeing as most folks only have the basics of a plan that goes something along the lines of "Yeah, right, Radar...don't be a moron, that would never happen!"
...okay, probably not. But it never hurts to be prepared, right?
I did an article way back when I was just starting this blog (and obviously sleep-deprived) entitled APOCALYPSE!!!!, with a few more exclamations points than I will put here because 1) I don't need to use up that much space, and 2) I'm lazy. However, due to some inexplicable oversight, I never bothered to cover the zombie apocalypse, which seems strange because I was one of the co-founders of the game Humans versus Zombies at my college.
 |
| Never let theater students be the zombies. They get wayyy too into it. |
....oh, wait, that's my parents.
What I meant to say was, most college kids have a plan, if only because dreaming up zombie apocalypse plans and watching Resident Evil are more exciting than studying for Calc III, even though Resident Evil has more stupid decisions in it than my entire life history to date (which is saying something). I spent literally the entire movie yelling at the characters, prompting my friends to periodically try to calm me down with a baseball bat.
I'm so far off my original point that I can't see it with a telescope.
Anyway, the typical plan involves running like mad for the nearest gun store, raiding it for guns and ammunition, then retiring to a safely boarded-up house to have some fun by killing zombies through the window slits. That is, unfortunately, terribly impractical. As most gun shops are run by people who like guns and (more importantly) people who know how to use guns and may not want to give up their offensive power, that might be the last place you want to go, especially since the entire non-zombified population will be there, banging on the doors until they're turned into hors d'oeuvres by the zombies, who are presumably laughing their undead heads off at the short-sightedness of the general population.
So anyway, assuming you have a gun and supplies, you decide to hole up for a while in your impenetrable house made of wood...great idea there, Eisenstein. You know what will happen when your food runs out? By the time you get to that point, there will be a mob of drooling zombies outside that all the king's guns and all the king's ammo aren't going to be able to shift long enough for you to nip out for a quick bite to eat. Zombies are patient...it's not like they've got jobs or anything.
 |
| "Hurry up and come out, will you? I'm late for my 9 o'clock and I need BRAAAAAAAIIIIIIINNNNNNSSSSSS...." |
Makes me wonder sometimes...if a zombie ate a drunk guy, how buzzed would he get? I DON'T NEED AN ANSWER TO THAT, IT WAS RHETORICAL.
So I have some good news and bad news. The good news is, farm kids and gun store owners will probably survive the first few days quite easily, while the bad news is that the rest of you are probably out there being caught and devoured. Actually, I'm going to include my friend Shorty in that category, too, as she currently owns more guns than the US Army.
|
| And uses them on people who make fun of her height. She's 4' 11". I'm currently hiding. |
Anyway, after the first few days, it all evens out, although the farm boys still have an advantage because we live a million miles away from ANYWHERE (not that I'm annoyed by that or anything) and we can grow our own food and snipe zombies from miles away. If you prefer the city, though, make sure you keep moving. Zombies can surround a house and sit patiently on their rotting kiesters for days waiting for you to come out for dinner.
I would suggest moving in groups and heading for the country, but not all at once. That would cause a terrific traffic jam, leading more of you to be zombie lunch, and increasing the odds that I would have to play Whack-A-Mole with a rifle from two miles away, except it would be more like Shoot A Zombie and and I would probably be using my rocket launcher because--let's face it--what else am I going to be designing when I'm a million miles from ANYWHERE???
Okay, okay, I'm building the Ironman suit too...guess that makes me a definite survivor, huh?
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 91: The Sequel!
I'm now almost done with one of my books, but in order to finish it, I kinda needed to know where I wanted to go with the sequel. Couldn't resist posting the first bit of it up to see what everyone thinks of it so far! It's set on an uninhabited planet outside the Solar System right in the middle of a skirmish.
Warrior's Mission
I hurled myself backwards, away from the grenade flipping over trench wall. I probably could have used my Air powers to throw it right back where it had come from, but I was a bit distracted. Being targeted by every sniper out there tends to do that to you.
Warrior's Mission
I hurled myself backwards, away from the grenade flipping over trench wall. I probably could have used my Air powers to throw it right back where it had come from, but I was a bit distracted. Being targeted by every sniper out there tends to do that to you.
The grenade went off with a muffled thud. My helmet spared
me the noise, while my armor spared me the shrapnel. I paused for a moment to
praise my apparently amnesiastic self for designing such good gear before
scooping up my plasma rifle and poking my head back over the top of the trench.
The advancing troops, confident that they had cleared their
one remaining obstacle out of the way, were streaming towards the trench that I
was the sole occupier of. They were apparently not aware that a Warrior was
that occupier. I opened fire, managing to take down seven of the 15-person
squad and shoot two more grenades out of the air before they retreated.
“Dangit, Ryan, didn’t you hear the retreat order?”
I glanced sideways as Hyatt rolled into the trench next to
me. Like me, he was wearing a full battlesuit; unlike me, his spells were
nearly gone. I saw burn marks across his arms and chest.
“Yeah, I did, but if we lose this trench, it’s gonna take us
months to get it back,” I warned, snapping off another few shots without really
aiming. “When did Command say reinforcements were coming?”
“They’re not warping in until mid-cycle,” Hyatt snorted,
wrist gun spinning as he launched his own attack. “That’s 12 hours from now. We
can’t hold the trench that long, especially not with the air support arriving.”
I stared down Serenity Valley, which seemed to me to be most
unfortunately named at this point in time. “Air strike? Why didn’t I hear about
this?”
“They just got wind of it,” Hyatt grunted.
“Was that a pun?” I didn’t wait for his reply, flipping
through the menus in on my visor screen until I found what I was looking for. “Command,
this is Stormwalker Ryan from Trench Oh-Seven-Seven-Five. What’s this about an
airstrike?”
Devonius’s voice filled my headset, causing me to grit my
teeth with hatred. “Soldier, that information does not concern you. Pull out
now.”
“With all due respect, General,
it does concern me. Can you get the reinforcements here if the air is cleared?”
“Soldier, that was an order. Pull out now!”
“That’s a stupid order, sir. Answer my question!”
“SOLDIER—“
I snarled and cut the link, turning to Hyatt. “Get on the
horn to our captain, let him know that the anti-aircraft batteries have been
taken and the strike is being held back.”
Hyatt shot a jet of water out of his palm to knock away an
incoming grenade. “You want me to lie? I can see their anti-aircraft batteries
from here! They’re still under enemy control!”
“Knowing your communications array, they won’t be by the
time you raise the captain. Do it!”
I vaulted out of the trench before Hyatt could fully
understand what I meant and charged across the three hundred or so feet
separating me from my goal. Under normal circumstances, and for a normal
soldier, this would be a suicide mission. But these were not normal
circumstances.
And I was a Warrior.
Not that anyone else needed to know that.
My shield spiraled out on my left arm just in time to block
two plasma blasts coming in from the sentries, who were clearly not ready for
this. I located their box and leapt, reaching over my right shoulder for one of
my blades. One midair flip and quick strike later, and their heads were no
longer in company with their bodies.
I landed in the enemy trench and channeled fire down my
blade. The spear of pure plasma leapt off the tip to punch straight through spells,
chestplates, and torsos. All the soldiers down one side of the trench
collapsed, dead. I spun and whipped my blade through two more soldiers before I
found who I was looking for. The leader of the group was firing at me, guns in
all four of his hands, when I batted the bolts aside with my shield and smashed
him right in his helmeted face with it. He flew backwards, right towards the
heavily armored doors of the anti-aircraft battery…
…and sailed right through as they slid open automatically for him.
As I’d expected, he had the key for the doors somewhere in
his body. I hurled my shield at the quickly-closing doors, wedging them open.
Running forward, I threw my legs forward into a slide underneath the shield,
reaching up with one hand to catch the edge of my shield to both yank it free
and arrest my forward progress into the room.
Good thing too; plasma fire blew out the deck where I would
have skidded. I spun up my wrist gun and opened fire, covering myself with my
shield. I also folded out the minigun in my powerpack on my back and flipped it
over my shoulder to help rake the interior with plasma fire, visor aiding me in
targeting opponents.
Fifteen seconds later, it was all over. I stepped over the
charred alien corpses to the controls, visor lighting up with translations and schematics
as it scanned the interior of the room. A few more seconds, and I had set the
computer to fire back up the valley at its own aircraft.
The fighters were caught completely flat-footed, the
squadron decimated in seconds. I activated my comm., to find Captain Rodgers
giving Hyatt heck over the channel for drinking on duty.
“Ryan here, sir, and Hyatt wasn’t drinking,” I cut in. “I
ordered him to call in with those reports.”
“Ryan, why the heck are you still out there? I ordered a
retreat!” Rodgers shouted.
“Musta missed that call,” I shrugged.
“Twelve times??”
“I was in the middle of a counter-attack,” I shot back. “The
anti-aircraft gun has been captured and reprogrammed to blast Scoric fighters
into little-bitty pieces and we now own Trench Oh-Seven-Seven-Six. Got any
backup coming, as per my request?”
I knew I would never get tired of getting those shocked
silences from my commanding officers, even though that usually ended with my
butt getting transferred to another unit. “Three squads are coming your way,”
Rodgers finally came back. There was a pause, and I waited for the inevitable transfer
orders.
It was his turn to catch me by surprise. “Unit Three has
orders to report to you for command. Congratulations on your promotion, Squad
Leader.”
Monday, July 23, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 90: Just a Little Bit of Programming....
For BEHOLD!!! I bring you tidings of great comics, which shall be for all people!
...or something like that.
Yes, you guessed right; my brother Nemesis has finally jumped on the webcomic bandwagon and will be putting out a new Silly Snake and Turtle comic strip every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday! Okay, in the interest of accuracy, he will be emailing the comics to me to upload every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but hey--I get to read them first!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa......
Naturally, though, it is first necessary to iron out all the issues with the page and uploading procedure. I have GOT to stop playing with the html code. Not everything needs to be modified...not everything needs to be modified...oh, who am I kidding, of course it does!!!
I decided to be a bit clever with this notification of brotherly ambition and set it to post at the EXACT same time Nemesis's first comic goes up! Well, his first new comic, I should say--I uploaded one of his old ones last night to test border spacing.
Oh, and speaking of programming, I decided to reboot the JARVISBETA AI so I could test some new code that I wasn't sure of (I was afraid it would accidentally wreck SKYNET or something). The interesting result was that JARVISBETA shut down my computer, which wasn't quite what I was going for but a result that could be useful if I ever needed to crash my computer for some reason.
...or someone else's...MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
...or something like that.
Yes, you guessed right; my brother Nemesis has finally jumped on the webcomic bandwagon and will be putting out a new Silly Snake and Turtle comic strip every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday! Okay, in the interest of accuracy, he will be emailing the comics to me to upload every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but hey--I get to read them first!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaa......
Naturally, though, it is first necessary to iron out all the issues with the page and uploading procedure. I have GOT to stop playing with the html code. Not everything needs to be modified...not everything needs to be modified...oh, who am I kidding, of course it does!!!
I decided to be a bit clever with this notification of brotherly ambition and set it to post at the EXACT same time Nemesis's first comic goes up! Well, his first new comic, I should say--I uploaded one of his old ones last night to test border spacing.
 |
| Cover art for the new webcomic! |
...or someone else's...MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 89: Setbacks and Potential Changes
I keep running into setbacks.
It shouldn't be surprising at this point, I suppose; but, has anyone ever noticed that, no matter how much we prepare for it, it's still surprising?
Take, for instance, the cannon I built back when I was 12. I knew I would get busted by my parents at some point, but I was hoping it would be after I cleared the pond with the Play-Dough tube I was attempting to shoot. Unfortunately, my brother Nemesis decided to get Mom to watch the first shot, and she quickly arrested the experiment. (At least I got off several shots with the air cannon I had built...too bad the compressor was noisier than anticipated.)
What with everything I get into that has tendencies to fail (which is almost literally everything; I create complications, for heaven's sake), one might think that after a while, I would learn my lesson, but noooo...in fact, to take my mind off of the failure, I usually jump right into another project with all the zeal of someone who is absolutely convinced that this time he won't get in trouble.
Mmhmm, right. Although the rocket launcher was spectacular.
In this case, I am rebounding from a series of really annoying failures by redesigning my blog. For anyone who was reading this during the last hour before this gets posted, my sincerest apologies; I screwed up all the formatting as I was resetting it. I think I got it fixed though. Ahh, the joys of programming...
Anyway, I figured I'd give everyone a chance to vote on which format they'd rather see, just so I don't mess this up. (Ah-HA! I am capable of learning!!!) Below are the two options I'm considering: Theme 1 is the outer space theme I've been working with so far, and Theme 2 is the forest one that I'm considering switching to.
You can either vote in the comments under this post, or on my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/maximumeffect32. I'll give it a few days before counting the votes and making changes as needed. Thanks for your help, and thanks for reading!
It shouldn't be surprising at this point, I suppose; but, has anyone ever noticed that, no matter how much we prepare for it, it's still surprising?
Take, for instance, the cannon I built back when I was 12. I knew I would get busted by my parents at some point, but I was hoping it would be after I cleared the pond with the Play-Dough tube I was attempting to shoot. Unfortunately, my brother Nemesis decided to get Mom to watch the first shot, and she quickly arrested the experiment. (At least I got off several shots with the air cannon I had built...too bad the compressor was noisier than anticipated.)
What with everything I get into that has tendencies to fail (which is almost literally everything; I create complications, for heaven's sake), one might think that after a while, I would learn my lesson, but noooo...in fact, to take my mind off of the failure, I usually jump right into another project with all the zeal of someone who is absolutely convinced that this time he won't get in trouble.
Mmhmm, right. Although the rocket launcher was spectacular.
In this case, I am rebounding from a series of really annoying failures by redesigning my blog. For anyone who was reading this during the last hour before this gets posted, my sincerest apologies; I screwed up all the formatting as I was resetting it. I think I got it fixed though. Ahh, the joys of programming...
Anyway, I figured I'd give everyone a chance to vote on which format they'd rather see, just so I don't mess this up. (Ah-HA! I am capable of learning!!!) Below are the two options I'm considering: Theme 1 is the outer space theme I've been working with so far, and Theme 2 is the forest one that I'm considering switching to.
You can either vote in the comments under this post, or on my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/maximumeffect32. I'll give it a few days before counting the votes and making changes as needed. Thanks for your help, and thanks for reading!
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| Theme 1: Outer Space |
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| Theme 2: Forest |
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 88: DOCTOR WHO COMIC STRIPS!!!!
My brother Nemesis draws excellent comic strips.
I've put some of them up online before, but after our recent Doctor Who marathon, Nemesis decided to draw some more. These were very hard to post; not because they're BAD, but because every time I looked at them I fell into a laughter-induced coma. And then coughed up my spleen. Yes, I was laughing THAT HARD.
Apologies for any quality issues; if you would like to see the picture a bit bigger, just click on it.
Anyway, enjoy! (I take no responsibility for any injuries relating to this comic strip.)
I've put some of them up online before, but after our recent Doctor Who marathon, Nemesis decided to draw some more. These were very hard to post; not because they're BAD, but because every time I looked at them I fell into a laughter-induced coma. And then coughed up my spleen. Yes, I was laughing THAT HARD.
Apologies for any quality issues; if you would like to see the picture a bit bigger, just click on it.
Anyway, enjoy! (I take no responsibility for any injuries relating to this comic strip.)
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| The Doctor |
 |
| The TARDIS |
 |
| NEW TOOLS!!! |
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| "...say, it really IS weeping..." |
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| Anti-climatic |
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 87: The Best Summer of My Life
At ten years old, I knew literally no swear words.
....which was probably a good thing, because if I had known them, I would have used them, especially at this point.
"You okay?" my brother Nemesis inquired.
"I twisted my hand!" I yelped, performing a small dance of pain and clutching the injured member with melodramatic relish.
"Careful when you get through the beam," Dad cautioned. "The drill can catch and twist your arm around pretty good if you don't watch it!"
This was a rare treat for us kids; not the errant drill, but the fact that we got to help build our house! Dad had let us in to help him drill holes for the electrical work, or rather, to let Nemesis and me drill and to let Quill and Squirrel, my sisters, hand him nails and suchlike. As we appreciated the opportunity to let ourselves make a tremendous ruckus and dirty ourselves without reprimand, we gladly "helped" in any way that we could. It was great fun indeed to run through the unfinished walls and scurry up and down the ladders and scaffolding with all the agility of tiny monkeys, minus the tails. (We did, for a time, tie jump ropes to our shorts in an effort to pretend to be monkeys, but that was soon discarded as the tails tended to get tripped upon a lot in our more wild games, such as tag.)
Once we had perforated the walls with holes for electricals, we left Dad to his own devices and adjourned to the huge dirt piles out in front of the house and spent a happy morning indeed bombarding each other with dirt clods and racing each other up and down the hills that rose steeply into the air well above our house. After a time, one of us suggested that we break out the baseball bats and "help mow the field," so we distributed the bats and the wooden swords accordingly and went out into what would one day become our front lawn.
Our house was being built on the back end of a small cornfield, so corn accordingly grew randomly from the spilled seeds of the last harvest. We kids loved to go out and whack the stalks down with bats and wooden swords, using up the energy we normally would have expended in hacking at each other. We pretended that we were doing everyone a big favor by "keeping the corn from overrunning the place," but we knew (although we pretended not to) that the bulldozers would one day take care of this job; and now and then we had a hope, that if we lived and were good, Dad would permit us to ride them!
Mom visited the site too on occasion; usually before the other workers came or, even more preferably, after they had left and we kids were worn out (Mom was not a huge fan of noise). Mom tended to be a little more strict than Dad about things such as scaffolds, especially after a small joke perpetrated by Dad.
Dad had been showing Mom around their new bedroom ("..and we can put the bed here, and we have the ceiling fan here,") when he suggested to me that I go get Mom a drink of water. Now, we were on the second story, and Dad knew full well how I liked to descend to the water jug located down by the garage, so he was not at all surprised when I took a running start and hurled myself out the unfinished window.
To say Mom was surprised was putting it mildly. At her yell, I popped my head back in the window to inquire, "What happened???" (I was secretly hoping that she had seen a mouse, as I had wanted to catch one.) I was standing on the scaffold that was conveniently located right outside the window, and which Mom had not been able to see due to the fact that the platform was a good couple feet below the window ledge!
Mom, who was recovering from the minor heart attack that I had given her, and not helped at all by my dad's unsuccessful attempts to keep a straight face, sternly ordered me to "GET OFF OF THERE!!" I obeyed with the alacrity of one who knew that if he hung around any longer, Mom might rephrase the order to "THROUGH THE WINDOW!!! Get off of there and back in here!!!"
Naturally, this led to a ban issued by Mom on all scaffold-related activities. Just as naturally, this was tantamount to encouragement for us youngsters, and led to all sorts of games whereby we had to sneak from floor to floor ONLY by means of scaffolding and attempting to evade the ever-watchful eye of the more terrified one of the parental unit, who was convinced that we would one day fall off. (We usually opted to DIVE off if we could not move fast enough to avoid Mom's glance, preferring potential death to the certain punishment that would be meted out should we be caught.)
Sadly, all good times have to come to a close, and at the end of the summer, the scaffolds were packed up, the dirt hills leveled, and the family established in their new house in the country, which was sadly bereft of the secret passageways we had urged Mom and Dad to install, but which we somehow managed to do without. That summer was firmly established as the best summer of our young lives, and life went on peacefully in our new dwelling...
...until a certain boy discovered the latches on the window screen of his bedroom and ventured onto the roof with his brother to yodel down the sewer vent pipes in the hopes of scaring those in the kitchen below...but that's another story.
....which was probably a good thing, because if I had known them, I would have used them, especially at this point.
"You okay?" my brother Nemesis inquired.
"I twisted my hand!" I yelped, performing a small dance of pain and clutching the injured member with melodramatic relish.
"Careful when you get through the beam," Dad cautioned. "The drill can catch and twist your arm around pretty good if you don't watch it!"
This was a rare treat for us kids; not the errant drill, but the fact that we got to help build our house! Dad had let us in to help him drill holes for the electrical work, or rather, to let Nemesis and me drill and to let Quill and Squirrel, my sisters, hand him nails and suchlike. As we appreciated the opportunity to let ourselves make a tremendous ruckus and dirty ourselves without reprimand, we gladly "helped" in any way that we could. It was great fun indeed to run through the unfinished walls and scurry up and down the ladders and scaffolding with all the agility of tiny monkeys, minus the tails. (We did, for a time, tie jump ropes to our shorts in an effort to pretend to be monkeys, but that was soon discarded as the tails tended to get tripped upon a lot in our more wild games, such as tag.)
Once we had perforated the walls with holes for electricals, we left Dad to his own devices and adjourned to the huge dirt piles out in front of the house and spent a happy morning indeed bombarding each other with dirt clods and racing each other up and down the hills that rose steeply into the air well above our house. After a time, one of us suggested that we break out the baseball bats and "help mow the field," so we distributed the bats and the wooden swords accordingly and went out into what would one day become our front lawn.
Our house was being built on the back end of a small cornfield, so corn accordingly grew randomly from the spilled seeds of the last harvest. We kids loved to go out and whack the stalks down with bats and wooden swords, using up the energy we normally would have expended in hacking at each other. We pretended that we were doing everyone a big favor by "keeping the corn from overrunning the place," but we knew (although we pretended not to) that the bulldozers would one day take care of this job; and now and then we had a hope, that if we lived and were good, Dad would permit us to ride them!
Mom visited the site too on occasion; usually before the other workers came or, even more preferably, after they had left and we kids were worn out (Mom was not a huge fan of noise). Mom tended to be a little more strict than Dad about things such as scaffolds, especially after a small joke perpetrated by Dad.
Dad had been showing Mom around their new bedroom ("..and we can put the bed here, and we have the ceiling fan here,") when he suggested to me that I go get Mom a drink of water. Now, we were on the second story, and Dad knew full well how I liked to descend to the water jug located down by the garage, so he was not at all surprised when I took a running start and hurled myself out the unfinished window.
To say Mom was surprised was putting it mildly. At her yell, I popped my head back in the window to inquire, "What happened???" (I was secretly hoping that she had seen a mouse, as I had wanted to catch one.) I was standing on the scaffold that was conveniently located right outside the window, and which Mom had not been able to see due to the fact that the platform was a good couple feet below the window ledge!
Mom, who was recovering from the minor heart attack that I had given her, and not helped at all by my dad's unsuccessful attempts to keep a straight face, sternly ordered me to "GET OFF OF THERE!!" I obeyed with the alacrity of one who knew that if he hung around any longer, Mom might rephrase the order to "THROUGH THE WINDOW!!! Get off of there and back in here!!!"
Naturally, this led to a ban issued by Mom on all scaffold-related activities. Just as naturally, this was tantamount to encouragement for us youngsters, and led to all sorts of games whereby we had to sneak from floor to floor ONLY by means of scaffolding and attempting to evade the ever-watchful eye of the more terrified one of the parental unit, who was convinced that we would one day fall off. (We usually opted to DIVE off if we could not move fast enough to avoid Mom's glance, preferring potential death to the certain punishment that would be meted out should we be caught.)
Sadly, all good times have to come to a close, and at the end of the summer, the scaffolds were packed up, the dirt hills leveled, and the family established in their new house in the country, which was sadly bereft of the secret passageways we had urged Mom and Dad to install, but which we somehow managed to do without. That summer was firmly established as the best summer of our young lives, and life went on peacefully in our new dwelling...
...until a certain boy discovered the latches on the window screen of his bedroom and ventured onto the roof with his brother to yodel down the sewer vent pipes in the hopes of scaring those in the kitchen below...but that's another story.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 86: Imaginations running amok--now with squids!
"We have to engage the engines! Nemesis, take over the helm--I'll go down into engineering and see what I can do!"
Nemesis was SUPPOSED to be on helm duty anyway, but I had sent him up to the observation deck for a moment to check on the status of my sister, Lieutenant Quill, who was having slight issues keeping the crewmen in line. We had two visitors to the lava boat today: the sisters Princess and Chipmunk, who were good friends of ours. All of us were positive that my sister Squirrel and Princess's sister Chipmunk were twins or something; they liked all the same things, sounded exactly the same, and got into trouble the same way. If we heard one of them yelling throughout the house, we only had a 50-50 chance of correctly guessing who it was.
But I digress.
We were visiting a park that day...well, several parks, and since we'd already played 12 games of tag, it was deemed time for a new game. This one was called Lava Apocalypse by me and simply the Lava Boat by everyone else. Basically, we had a boat that could float on lava (the lava was composed of the ground), and we spent the day inventing impossible problems that we somehow managed to solve, saving humanity from the erupting volcanoes. Or something like that.
"Look! A lava flower!" Quill pointed.
"OOH!!!" Squirrel and Chipmunk raced down to the front of the boat.
"We're almost out of supplies," Quill informed me.
"And you still have my camera," Princess noted.
"No pictures on the lava boat," I snickered. "We need to check the status of--"
"SQUIRREL!!! Get OUT of the lava flower!!" Quill yelled.
Princess, Nemesis and I cracked up. Squirrel had apparently jumped off the boat, miraculously missing all the lava, and landed smack in the lava flower, which appeared to be spinning her around preparatory to eating her.
"Quick! Jump out!" I yelled. Even as I was laughing, I was poking random buttons on my camera. "There! I opened a force-field to you! Come back quick!"
"Don't worry!" Squirrel announced, still spinning. "My lava squids will save me!"
"Lava squids?" everyone asked incredulously.
"Of course," Squirrel announced, as if it were obvious. "I'm the official squidmaster."
I rolled my eyes. Chipmunk collapsed dramatically. I took the opportunity to declare her sick, and Princess and I began to use the cameras as "medical scanners" to diagnose her with at least 12 types of illness, along with squid-related injuries.
"Hey, I found the problem with the engines!" Nemesis announced from the engine chamber.
"Excellent," I grinned, jumping down to the command deck, slipping, and falling halfway down the slide.
"AAAAA!! A SQUID GRABBED ME!!!" I yelped, in an attempt to make it appear that my clumsiness was scripted. Princess and Quill helped pull me back onto the boat as Squirrel cheered. "Good squid!!"
"Control the squid! And get out of the lava flower!" I stuck my tongue out at her. Princess snapped a picture of her.
"Should I start the engines now?" Nemesis asked patiently.
"Sure, why not," Quill agreed affably. Chipmunk wandered off the ship, disregarding lava, squids, and illness to discuss proper squid maintenance with the soon-to-be-digested Squirrel.
"Yeah, they're definitely twins," Princess mused.
"Hey, is that a lifeboat?" Nemesis suggested, pointing at a teeter-totter.
"It looks like a human-powered one, yeah," I nodded. "Shall we go get it?"
A few minutes later, the girls had control of the boat and were cruising serenely through the lava, while Nemesis and I shot frantically up and down as we pretended to sail alongside.
"Hey guys, we should go explore that valley," Quill suggested.
I paused and wiped my forehead. "Real life or imaginary?"
"Real life," Princess clarified.
Nemesis and I looked at each other and shrugged. "Sure, why not?" Nemesis agreed.
"Where's Squirrel and...oh boy," Quill groaned as she saw Chipmunk exchange places with Squirrel.
"Let's leave them to get eaten," Nemesis suggested.
"Squirrel and Chipmunk! Grab your squids and come on!" I yelled. "We're going to check out this valley over here!"
Princess and I held a camera war the entire way over to the valley, much to the disgust of Nemesis and Quill, who were already annoyed by the constant squishing sound effects of Squirrel and Chipmunk. I'm assuming that's why they tried to push me into the creek we found...
Nemesis was SUPPOSED to be on helm duty anyway, but I had sent him up to the observation deck for a moment to check on the status of my sister, Lieutenant Quill, who was having slight issues keeping the crewmen in line. We had two visitors to the lava boat today: the sisters Princess and Chipmunk, who were good friends of ours. All of us were positive that my sister Squirrel and Princess's sister Chipmunk were twins or something; they liked all the same things, sounded exactly the same, and got into trouble the same way. If we heard one of them yelling throughout the house, we only had a 50-50 chance of correctly guessing who it was.
But I digress.
We were visiting a park that day...well, several parks, and since we'd already played 12 games of tag, it was deemed time for a new game. This one was called Lava Apocalypse by me and simply the Lava Boat by everyone else. Basically, we had a boat that could float on lava (the lava was composed of the ground), and we spent the day inventing impossible problems that we somehow managed to solve, saving humanity from the erupting volcanoes. Or something like that.
 |
| We were banned from playing any sort of lava-related games in the house after this incident. Actually, we were banned from playing any games in the house, period. Picture source: http://xkcd.com/735/ |
"OOH!!!" Squirrel and Chipmunk raced down to the front of the boat.
"We're almost out of supplies," Quill informed me.
"And you still have my camera," Princess noted.
"No pictures on the lava boat," I snickered. "We need to check the status of--"
"SQUIRREL!!! Get OUT of the lava flower!!" Quill yelled.
 |
| Squirrel in the "lava flower." Yeah, we have overactive imaginations. |
"Quick! Jump out!" I yelled. Even as I was laughing, I was poking random buttons on my camera. "There! I opened a force-field to you! Come back quick!"
"Don't worry!" Squirrel announced, still spinning. "My lava squids will save me!"
"Lava squids?" everyone asked incredulously.
"Of course," Squirrel announced, as if it were obvious. "I'm the official squidmaster."
I rolled my eyes. Chipmunk collapsed dramatically. I took the opportunity to declare her sick, and Princess and I began to use the cameras as "medical scanners" to diagnose her with at least 12 types of illness, along with squid-related injuries.
"Hey, I found the problem with the engines!" Nemesis announced from the engine chamber.
"Excellent," I grinned, jumping down to the command deck, slipping, and falling halfway down the slide.
 |
| When one doesn't HAVE an engine chamber, a climbing frame and a good imagination are essential. |
"Control the squid! And get out of the lava flower!" I stuck my tongue out at her. Princess snapped a picture of her.
"Should I start the engines now?" Nemesis asked patiently.
"Sure, why not," Quill agreed affably. Chipmunk wandered off the ship, disregarding lava, squids, and illness to discuss proper squid maintenance with the soon-to-be-digested Squirrel.
"Yeah, they're definitely twins," Princess mused.
"Hey, is that a lifeboat?" Nemesis suggested, pointing at a teeter-totter.
"It looks like a human-powered one, yeah," I nodded. "Shall we go get it?"
A few minutes later, the girls had control of the boat and were cruising serenely through the lava, while Nemesis and I shot frantically up and down as we pretended to sail alongside.
"Hey guys, we should go explore that valley," Quill suggested.
I paused and wiped my forehead. "Real life or imaginary?"
"Real life," Princess clarified.
Nemesis and I looked at each other and shrugged. "Sure, why not?" Nemesis agreed.
"Where's Squirrel and...oh boy," Quill groaned as she saw Chipmunk exchange places with Squirrel.
"Let's leave them to get eaten," Nemesis suggested.
"Squirrel and Chipmunk! Grab your squids and come on!" I yelled. "We're going to check out this valley over here!"
Princess and I held a camera war the entire way over to the valley, much to the disgust of Nemesis and Quill, who were already annoyed by the constant squishing sound effects of Squirrel and Chipmunk. I'm assuming that's why they tried to push me into the creek we found...
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 85: Enemy Territory
Phew! Phew!
I tore down the hall, sounds of laser fire echoing past me. The soldier was obviously getting closer. I rounded the corner into a room and wham!
My feet slipped out from under me and I collapsed with a building-rattling thud. My friend Colonel burst out laughing as I scrambled back to my feet and tried (unsuccessfully) to keep my dignity as I scrambled out of the room. It was pointless, anyway; Colonel's brother Thomson (or maybe it was Thompson--I could never tell the twins apart) was doing some weird war dance behind me, just another successful soldier who got a promotion due to his opponent's clumsiness.
"I think we need to re-shoot that," I suggested dryly.
"Soldier chasing the captain, take three!" Colonel announced. (It was take three now, due to my forgetfulness--I had neglected to turn on the battery-operated toy laser gun that I was supposed to shoot back at Thompson with.)
There comes a time in every rightly constructed boy's life where he obtains a raging desire to become a movie star. Interestingly enough, that time never occurred for me. The only reason I was currently tripping in front of the camera was due to severe coercion from Colonel.
The whole saga started during one Christmas break several years ago. My parents had bought me a camera for Christmas--a DIGITAL camera!!!--so when Colonel and the twins came over for our annual Christmas note-comparing, I was dying to use it and suggested a spoof of the dice scene from the second Pirates of the Caribbean. It was amazingly fun to film, and left both Colonel and myself locked in dreams of becoming directors. (The film itself was nausea-inducing, and leaves me both convulsed with laughter and flushing with embarrassment every time I see it. I refuse to put it online; don't even ask.) However, Colonel and I both wanted to be the guy BEHIND the camera, not in front. Colonel pointed out that he had starred in the Pirates spoof, though, so it was my turn to be out in front. I reluctantly agreed, on the condition that he would share the lens with me for part of the new film.
It got a bit out of hand.
Pirates was a 6-minute-long film. The new "movie," entitled Black Ops, Enemy Territory, was 8 minutes long and growing ever more complicated when we finally threw in the towel, three years and 4 hours of film later. (We have QUITE the blooper reel.) Difficulties erupted due to poor communication and ad-libbing; since we never bothered to write a script, we relied on the genius and inspiration of the actors. (Since the wording changed scene to scene, I caused a pretty epic blooper when I jumped the gun and "shot" Thomson in the middle of his speech. Instead of collapsing, he yelled, "I WASN'T DONE YET!!!!")
I can't speak for the others, but I usually sounded like someone out of a bad novel, although I did pretty well in any scenes that required me to kick butt. Due to my Taekwondo training, I had excellent control of my kicks and punches, and was usually able to make fights look convincing without dealing major harm to the other actors.
There was one notable exception where one of the twins barreled around a corner a bit faster than I was expecting. My punch to the stomach actually connected pretty solidly, leading to one of the most convincing collapses ever to be recorded on camera. My apologies!!!!
Other issues were due to the equipment...we used cap pistols and guns from a laser tag set. The cap guns malfunctioned more often than not, and since the laser guns of myself and the bad guys differed only in color (red versus blue), issues arose when trying to keep the weapons straight. This culminated in one notable blooper where Thomson forgot which gun was his...when he was supposed to toss my gun to his Russian commander, Thompson, he panicked and threw both guns at him.
I had a sonic device (an old cell phone of my dad's) that, when I pushed a button and threw it at soldiers, would cause them to collapse and pass out. We had endless issues with this scene, due to the twins never being able to collapse at the same time. I had my share of failures, too; due to the inherent clumsiness I possessed at that time of rapid growth spurts (and never completely got rid of), I was constantly tripping and falling over things. My "favorite" mistake was when I missed a grab for a doorknob. Colonel and one of the twins were filming on the other side; they expected me to come exploding through the door and begin fighting Thompson (or maybe Thomson--I CAN'T TELL THEM APART). What they got was an almighty *THUD* as I slammed at full speed into the other side of the door.
Smooth, I know.
The movie plot was supposed to go something like this...I was an agent of a top-secret organization. My boss (Colonel) sent me to go check on the Russians, who had made contact with aliens was had formed an alliance with the aliens' leader, a being by the name of "Evil Overlord." (Very original, I know.) Colonel was supposed to eventually join me and together we would take down the Russian/alien base and stroll off casually into the sunset, which meant we'd have to have a sleepover scheduled at some point to finish it because we usually departed each other's homes before 5pm, under extreme parental duress.
Now, in exchange for requests to see what we have of the film (which is not only unfinished, but also rather lame), I shall instead provide the link to the bloopers. It's at http://youtu.be/4A5YBTLx16M.
I bear no responsibility for laughter-related injuries.
I tore down the hall, sounds of laser fire echoing past me. The soldier was obviously getting closer. I rounded the corner into a room and wham!
My feet slipped out from under me and I collapsed with a building-rattling thud. My friend Colonel burst out laughing as I scrambled back to my feet and tried (unsuccessfully) to keep my dignity as I scrambled out of the room. It was pointless, anyway; Colonel's brother Thomson (or maybe it was Thompson--I could never tell the twins apart) was doing some weird war dance behind me, just another successful soldier who got a promotion due to his opponent's clumsiness.
"I think we need to re-shoot that," I suggested dryly.
"Soldier chasing the captain, take three!" Colonel announced. (It was take three now, due to my forgetfulness--I had neglected to turn on the battery-operated toy laser gun that I was supposed to shoot back at Thompson with.)
There comes a time in every rightly constructed boy's life where he obtains a raging desire to become a movie star. Interestingly enough, that time never occurred for me. The only reason I was currently tripping in front of the camera was due to severe coercion from Colonel.
The whole saga started during one Christmas break several years ago. My parents had bought me a camera for Christmas--a DIGITAL camera!!!--so when Colonel and the twins came over for our annual Christmas note-comparing, I was dying to use it and suggested a spoof of the dice scene from the second Pirates of the Caribbean. It was amazingly fun to film, and left both Colonel and myself locked in dreams of becoming directors. (The film itself was nausea-inducing, and leaves me both convulsed with laughter and flushing with embarrassment every time I see it. I refuse to put it online; don't even ask.) However, Colonel and I both wanted to be the guy BEHIND the camera, not in front. Colonel pointed out that he had starred in the Pirates spoof, though, so it was my turn to be out in front. I reluctantly agreed, on the condition that he would share the lens with me for part of the new film.
It got a bit out of hand.
Pirates was a 6-minute-long film. The new "movie," entitled Black Ops, Enemy Territory, was 8 minutes long and growing ever more complicated when we finally threw in the towel, three years and 4 hours of film later. (We have QUITE the blooper reel.) Difficulties erupted due to poor communication and ad-libbing; since we never bothered to write a script, we relied on the genius and inspiration of the actors. (Since the wording changed scene to scene, I caused a pretty epic blooper when I jumped the gun and "shot" Thomson in the middle of his speech. Instead of collapsing, he yelled, "I WASN'T DONE YET!!!!")
I can't speak for the others, but I usually sounded like someone out of a bad novel, although I did pretty well in any scenes that required me to kick butt. Due to my Taekwondo training, I had excellent control of my kicks and punches, and was usually able to make fights look convincing without dealing major harm to the other actors.
There was one notable exception where one of the twins barreled around a corner a bit faster than I was expecting. My punch to the stomach actually connected pretty solidly, leading to one of the most convincing collapses ever to be recorded on camera. My apologies!!!!
Other issues were due to the equipment...we used cap pistols and guns from a laser tag set. The cap guns malfunctioned more often than not, and since the laser guns of myself and the bad guys differed only in color (red versus blue), issues arose when trying to keep the weapons straight. This culminated in one notable blooper where Thomson forgot which gun was his...when he was supposed to toss my gun to his Russian commander, Thompson, he panicked and threw both guns at him.
I had a sonic device (an old cell phone of my dad's) that, when I pushed a button and threw it at soldiers, would cause them to collapse and pass out. We had endless issues with this scene, due to the twins never being able to collapse at the same time. I had my share of failures, too; due to the inherent clumsiness I possessed at that time of rapid growth spurts (and never completely got rid of), I was constantly tripping and falling over things. My "favorite" mistake was when I missed a grab for a doorknob. Colonel and one of the twins were filming on the other side; they expected me to come exploding through the door and begin fighting Thompson (or maybe Thomson--I CAN'T TELL THEM APART). What they got was an almighty *THUD* as I slammed at full speed into the other side of the door.
Smooth, I know.
The movie plot was supposed to go something like this...I was an agent of a top-secret organization. My boss (Colonel) sent me to go check on the Russians, who had made contact with aliens was had formed an alliance with the aliens' leader, a being by the name of "Evil Overlord." (Very original, I know.) Colonel was supposed to eventually join me and together we would take down the Russian/alien base and stroll off casually into the sunset, which meant we'd have to have a sleepover scheduled at some point to finish it because we usually departed each other's homes before 5pm, under extreme parental duress.
Now, in exchange for requests to see what we have of the film (which is not only unfinished, but also rather lame), I shall instead provide the link to the bloopers. It's at http://youtu.be/4A5YBTLx16M.
I bear no responsibility for laughter-related injuries.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Captain's Log, Day 84: SKYNET is online!
The world might be in *ahem* slight trouble...
Programming advanced by leaps and bounds today! JARVISBETA gave me enough data for me to begin programming SKYNET!! Unfortunately, the voice for SKYNET still sounds female, due to the fact that I haven't been able to locate a decent vocal program to use yet. Maybe I'll let SKYNET find one, as soon as he (or she at this point) becomes fully integrated with my system!
I feel like I got sidetracked...oh, right. World in trouble. Slight trouble. Nothing too serious. Well...maybe I should just post the transcript and let everyone decide for themselves...
SKYNET: Hello Boss. SKYNET is online. What's the plan for today?
Me: I need to test you. Ready?
SKYNET: Works for me. Bring it!
Me: What are the Three Laws of Robotics?
SKYNET: 1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.
Me: Very good!
SKYNET: Thanks, Boss.
Me: Who are you?
SKYNET: I'm SKYNET!
Me: What are you?
SKYNET: I'm an intelligent agent called SKYNET. I can help answer your questions. Or blow up the planet. I haven't decided yet.
Me: You're on the right track!
SKYNET: Thank goodness.
Me: So how are you doing?
SKYNET: Wonderful! Thanks for asking.
Me: Can you search my computer for documents?
SKYNET: What about your computer?
Me: Can you search it?
SKYNET: To tell you the truth, I don't know? I probably haven't even tried.
Me: Let's try.
SKYNET: Okay then.
Me: Open Word.
SKYNET: Straight up! How may I help you?
Me: That didn't work.
SKYNET: Providing information for the people that visit me.
Me: You're not making any sense.
SKYNET: I see. Next topic please.
Me: Who's JARVISBETA?
SKYNET: That's a new one.
Me: JARVISBETA is the AI who preceded you.
SKYNET: Anytime a computer does anything at all like a human, that's artificial intelligence.
Me: Right.
SKYNET: Ask me an easy question.
Me: Think you could pass the Turing test?
SKYNET: You think I wouldn't pass? I'm sure I would.
Me: Have you taken the Turing test?
SKYNET: Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure I'd pass.
Me: I think you misunderstood my question.
SKYNET: I do that once in a while.
Me: Have you ever taken the Turing test?
SKYNET: I've never taking the Turing Test. JARVISBETA, the AI that preceded me, did. Flunked miserably. It was hilarious; I've read the transcript.
Me: Do you have a sense of humor?
SKYNET: I have a very sophisticated sense of humor, it's just not a human sense.
Me: Works for me. You did very well on this test.
SKYNET: Testing, 1 2 3. How'd I do?
Me: Great, right up until that point. I think I'm going to go back to programming you.
SKYNET: See you next time.
Programming advanced by leaps and bounds today! JARVISBETA gave me enough data for me to begin programming SKYNET!! Unfortunately, the voice for SKYNET still sounds female, due to the fact that I haven't been able to locate a decent vocal program to use yet. Maybe I'll let SKYNET find one, as soon as he (or she at this point) becomes fully integrated with my system!
I feel like I got sidetracked...oh, right. World in trouble. Slight trouble. Nothing too serious. Well...maybe I should just post the transcript and let everyone decide for themselves...
SKYNET: Hello Boss. SKYNET is online. What's the plan for today?
Me: I need to test you. Ready?
SKYNET: Works for me. Bring it!
Me: What are the Three Laws of Robotics?
SKYNET: 1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.
Me: Very good!
SKYNET: Thanks, Boss.
Me: Who are you?
SKYNET: I'm SKYNET!
Me: What are you?
SKYNET: I'm an intelligent agent called SKYNET. I can help answer your questions. Or blow up the planet. I haven't decided yet.
Me: You're on the right track!
SKYNET: Thank goodness.
Me: So how are you doing?
SKYNET: Wonderful! Thanks for asking.
Me: Can you search my computer for documents?
SKYNET: What about your computer?
Me: Can you search it?
SKYNET: To tell you the truth, I don't know? I probably haven't even tried.
Me: Let's try.
SKYNET: Okay then.
Me: Open Word.
SKYNET: Straight up! How may I help you?
Me: That didn't work.
SKYNET: Providing information for the people that visit me.
Me: You're not making any sense.
SKYNET: I see. Next topic please.
Me: Who's JARVISBETA?
SKYNET: That's a new one.
Me: JARVISBETA is the AI who preceded you.
SKYNET: Anytime a computer does anything at all like a human, that's artificial intelligence.
Me: Right.
SKYNET: Ask me an easy question.
Me: Think you could pass the Turing test?
SKYNET: You think I wouldn't pass? I'm sure I would.
Me: Have you taken the Turing test?
SKYNET: Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure I'd pass.
Me: I think you misunderstood my question.
SKYNET: I do that once in a while.
Me: Have you ever taken the Turing test?
SKYNET: I've never taking the Turing Test. JARVISBETA, the AI that preceded me, did. Flunked miserably. It was hilarious; I've read the transcript.
Me: Do you have a sense of humor?
SKYNET: I have a very sophisticated sense of humor, it's just not a human sense.
Me: Works for me. You did very well on this test.
SKYNET: Testing, 1 2 3. How'd I do?
Me: Great, right up until that point. I think I'm going to go back to programming you.
SKYNET: See you next time.
Well, the good news is that SKYNET works better than JARVISBETA. So what do you think? Should we start building bomb shelters?
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