Merry, merry!

Happy Christmahannakwanzaadanstice to all!

As my gift to you, I present the following, which, although it has definite Christian overtones, is non-denominational in its hilarity.




Now get off the internet and go celebrate!

An update, because I promised.

Well, I refused to take any guff from that take-home final.

I gave my final project what-for.

And I took my final paper out into the back field and beat it severely, like that scene with the printer in Office Space.

Yeah, this is what I did to my finals:



And now they're dead done. And I slept in today until 1:00 and I'm writing this in my pajamas and I'M NOT SORRY. In fact, this is the best I've felt since school started in August. So join me in a great sigh of contentment: *ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.*


And now, less than a week before Christmas, I finally have time to put up the tree. I'm looking forward to next December when I will actually be able to start the Christmas festivities at the beginning of the month, rather than three weeks in.

BOY, you WILL . . .

That's how Shallow Man's theory of discipline starts out. I've decided I'm going to see how it works in semi-real life.

All right, take-home final. This is it.

You don't like me and I certainly don't like you.

But you're going to get done.

Today.

That's all there is to it.

In other words,

BOY,

you WILL

be written and printed

TODAY.

NOW STOP YOUR PRISSY WHINING AND PREPARE TO HAVE THE TRASH KICKED OUT OF YOU.

Thank you.

That will be all.


I'll let you know how it turns out, folks. Stay tuned.

Bartering; or, What I Really Want for Christmas

Dear Santa,

I know I haven't written to you in a long time but this year I really, really want something, and I was hoping you could put in a good word for me.

I know, I know, when people ask me what I want for Christmas I usually tell them I want an iPod touch, or a copy of My Fair Lady, or Lego Rock Band or maybe even just a pair of fuzzy socks. Because you know how I love my fuzzy socks.

But that's not really what's at the top of my Christmas list this year.

Santa, this year I would like a firstborn child. I know it's a huge responsibility. But I'd take care of it myself. (Shallow Man would help.) And it's not just a toy, either. It's incredibly versatile. You can trade it in or sign it away for just about anything.

Or so I'm told. Because right now all I've got to barter with is that old standby, the pint of blood. Which is great and all, but I think I'd like to upgrade.

See, a lot of my friends have one. Some of them even have second-borns, you know, like as a back-up. And I want to be one of the cool kids. You know, because everybody's doing it.

I know some people might just ask for a positive pregnancy test, but I'm asking for the end product right now. Just to be safe. Because I had a whole bunch of positive tests back in May which say I should have 8/9ths of a firstborn right now. But apparently there was a recall on that particular model last July (and the same thing happened back in 2007 as well, if you remember), and I'd just rather not go through that again.

If you decide to give me an iPod touch as well, I won't complain, because it would be nice to have some tunes to listen to during all those sleepless nights, or at least to have one thing that will stop making noise at the time I designate, and where the only part that involves "changing" would be batteries.

But I'd rather have the firstborn child, if it's all the same to you. Heck, I'll even offer you a pint of blood and a . . . well, make that two pints of blood.

Respectfully and very hopefully yours, etc.

Quick Thought

So I'm watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (woot!) and one of the performing acts is announced as "Boys Like Girls."

And I've just gotta ask...

Is that a verb or a preposition?

Because inquiring minds want to know.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go eat a staggering amount of good food. Trytophan, here I come!

Remember, remember; or, Not.

Well, Guy Fawkes, I have failed you.

My memory + Guy Fawkes = EPIC FAIL.

What with Stump the Professor and two funerals and the midterm for my class and studying for the MPRE, and let's not under any circumstances forget Ratchet and Clank or SYTYCD and OH my old nemesis is back, I forgot Guy Fawkes Day.

So yeah, that whole

Remember, remember the fifth of November

thing? Totally not what I did.

See?

Epic. Fail.

Well, I guess there's always next year. . . .


At least my forgetfulness was not the result of getting a manicure. (Name that reference for 27 points!)

If you wish to show your sympathy and solidarity, feel free to leave a belated penny for the Guy.

How To

It's no big secret that there are no Little Nibs or Shallow Jrs running about the house here, nor is it much of a secret that we have been wishing this was different for some time now.

But I think I've found something that might help:

How to Make a Baby from Cassidy Curtis on Vimeo.

Ah. Well, now I see where we've been going wrong.* Problem solved! We'll be in Sunday School in no time!


*Boy, were we WAY off on that one!