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|Friday, June 1st, 2007|
Your results:<BR><B>You are <FONT SIZE=6>Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)</FONT></B>
<TABLE><TR><TD><TABLE><TR><TD>Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=75></TD><TD> 75%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=70></TD><TD> 70%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=65></TD><TD> 65%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=60></TD><TD> 60%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Derrial Book (Shepherd)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=55></TD><TD> 55%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Inara Serra (Companion)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=45></TD><TD> 45%</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=45></TD><TD> 45%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Wash (Ship Pilot)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=40></TD><TD> 40%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>Jayne Cobb (Mercenary)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=35></TD><TD> 35%</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=25></TD><TD> 25%</TD>
</TR><TR><TD>A Reaver (Cannibal)</TD>
<TD><HR ALIGN=LEFT NOSHADE SIZE=4 WIDTH=10></TD><TD> 10%</TD>
<TD>Honest and a defender of the innocent.<BR> You sometimes make mistakes in judgment<BR> but you are generally good and<BR> would protect your crew from harm.<BR>
Click here to take the Serenity Personality Quiz</A><BR> Current Mood: lethargic
|Monday, June 7th, 2004|
|So it's been a while, so sue me, want to fight about it?
Finally broke out of the old hovel. All it really takes to convince you that it's time to move out of a 100 year-old house that you shared with roommates for seven years is to try and clean that place for the security deposit. What a heap. We found several places where you could see down into the basement, which of course negated the need for dustpans.
Been in the new digs for 'bout a month, and I am just getting to know the area. I've been busy and out of town and tired and rained on and trying to get my knees to work better after being kamakazed on the slopes.
Still I have noticed a need to do stuff, that comes from not having anybody to talk to at home.
One of the new places I did find was this Buddhist temple a block away. So, I went to a service Sunday and really enjoyed the meditation. The chanting was cool, if confusing. You sing along to a song you have never heard before. I settled for resonant humming. The only thing that harshed the pleasant newness of the experience was a recitation of precepts that included avoiding promiscuity, and poisons and other such rot that reminded me of Catholic fore-swearing of drink and lust and such. Even so, I may go back for the early stuff and ditch the rest unless I get dirty looks.
Then like any good failed christian, I went to see a cool movie about witches and shrunken heads on Sunday.
I rounded out the day with a thai date (food, not the date herself). Nice thick curly hair and good wit. I think that I will see her again. All together a good day. Now if I could just drag myself out to the pool to swim, I'd have something. Current Mood: contemplative
|Thursday, September 11th, 2003|
You're a confident artist. While others are
worrying you are able to sleep like a baby~ You
can be an artist who has yet to develop or you
may be a very developed artist to be able to
get this far. I must congrat you for being able
to stand firm as yourself. However there is
more than this stage in life, keep moving on~ How confident are you as an artist? brought to you by Quizilla
|Tuesday, August 26th, 2003|
|Summer of music
Not since the heady days of having a full head of hair have I had such a summer of music, and it is all over the map:
Ernie Campbell and Hot Soup: a blues man with a bit of funke band back up. He walked on stage with a cane, set that down, picked up a guitar and just wailed. The base player and keyboardest were dressed in matching outfits (one red/one purple) and played and acted like they came out of Prince's Revolution.
Black Francis: had a great show in a small venue. He played the old Pixies stuff, but also some kick-ass new stuff I had never heard. His openning act included a vortex cannon and a glowing pickle.
Ministry: Played all the good stuff. I even went in to mosh with the 20 year olds for a few songs. They trashed my shoes, but it was well worth it.
The Dead: This is only my second show with them, but by far the best. I had a near religious experience with Joan Osborne singing Jerry's lyrics. The only thing that would have made it better would have been bringing a frisbee to the parking lot.
Chicago Symphony Orchestra at Ravinia: (outdoor picknick wine/cheese) beautiful music under the stars.
Liz Phair: I love this girl. She played a lot of the old stuff that got me into her. Her new stuff was good fun and a little harder than she has done in the past. She could have played for another hour, and I would have been happy. Finished the night with strawberry pancakes.
What's next? I have to hunt up some local bands. The summer is fading... Current Mood: giddy
|Friday, August 8th, 2003|
Make your own LiveJournal Trading Card!
Free Account Edition
User Number: 189426
Number of Posts: 15
|The Quez is an absentee blogger that spends most of his LiveJournal time commenting on other journals or asking about icons. Little is known about the Quez, because of the sheer rarity of its postings.
|Strengths: Great size and impressive reach allow the Quez to bitch from the relative safety of its office chair.
|Weaknesses: Little Japanese girls. Cranky when hungry. Easily distracted by shiny objects.
|Special Skills: Able to pontificate on a wide range of subjects regardless of knowledge, the Quez only stumbles when encountering unfamiliar vocabulary. Staggering recall of movie lines.
|Weapons: Size 13 Feet, Alternating long flowing locks/blinding scalp.
|Quote: "Luke, I am your father. Turn to the dark side of the force, you knob."
-- Bob Mackenzie
Brought to you by crossfire
</center> Current Mood: hungry
|Tuesday, May 27th, 2003|
|Tuesday, April 15th, 2003|
If two people were giving you advice, and one was being paid by you, and the other was being paid by someone who's interests rarely coincide with yours, which one would you believe was giving you the straight dope? The one that was being paid by you, right?
Then why is that fairly simple logic lost on my boss? She acts like I am a loose cannon of the ship and the boarding pirates are just coming over to help her out. Why does the truth sound so F'en radical to this woman? It must have something to do with being told what you want to hear. "Don't worry about watching out for your interests. That's too much work. You are better off just listening to our-unbiased statements about what you should do." I swear, when someone has a enough money to say something a hundred times, way too many people believe it. Current Mood: nauseated
|Wednesday, April 2nd, 2003|
|Time to think
Every once in awhile I get into a funk about what I am doing with my life. Things can be going on fairly well, and this will happen. For the last several years I have gone through a pattern where I am either extremely busy and generally enjoying that fact or in between busy points and at a loss on how to fill the time and therefore anxious. I'm not fooling myself into thinking that only activity makes me happy, that way lies the lonely work-a-holic. I think I am happy when I don't have time to think about what I am missing. When I do have time, trying to find what is missing more often highlights how what I have found is not it. This is starting to affect my sense of self and it isn't good. What the hell am I beyond my needs and questionable wants.
This is the kind of thing I could contemplate over a dozen beers with friends, but I can't do that anymore. I don't feel like I am being straight with any one person anymore. So, I feel cut off from the tools to work through this. Maybe I should just leave town for a awhile. Current Mood: apathetic
|Monday, January 27th, 2003|
|Most corrupt state ever!
You think things are bad in your state? This state has you beat. A mere three weeks into the "reform" Dem governor's term and the Commission in charge of protecting consumers from utilities (can you say captive customers with near-inelastic demand?) has been stacked with people that have no understanding of utilities or consumer protection law. The only thing that links these shills to the Commission is their cosy relationships to the utilities they were appointed to regulate. This is where the GOV (ala Mel Brooks) evidently pays back the contributors to his $45 million war chest. It sickens me that an expert body such as this can be so obviously captured by the entities that it is supposed to regulate. I wonder if each new member is given a shiny new rubber stamp on their first day on the job. Current Mood: righteous
|Thursday, January 2nd, 2003|
|New Year/Old Times
I celebrated the new year with friends that I have known since high school (and actually one friend's kid who just started high school (not my idea)). The nostalgia was pretty deep already, and when I was helping the kid through what was probably his first collect call to ralph on the big white telephone it was complete.
Now, I am trying my best not to turn this into a wonder years rant, but it felt a lot like a John Hughes flick (if you ignore that the friends were home owners and one was pregnant(She's having a Baby??)). Well at least I was in the John Hughes movie (if you ignore my hairline and lack of spliting hangover). Ok, it was nothing like a John Hughes movie. We didn't even have Jory's exchange student boyfriend over.
However, to complete my misperception of the eve, on New Years day I spent hours watching VH-1's I love the 80's 83-89. Believe it or not there were more than passing references to Hughes and the brat pack. Did I waste my day off? Hell no. I was laughing my ass off. By the end, I couldn't make up my mind whether to do a beer bong, dig out my yellow Vans or shave my head in a Corgan-esk attempt to retain my youth. Ultimately, I decided that the former would make me sick, the latter would make me cold and eventually sick, and the shoes needed a wash.
I am going sking next week. So, maybe I will just rent Hotdog the Movie in prep. Current Mood: nostalgic
|Monday, November 18th, 2002|
|Back to the Suckitude
Well so much for the cross-cultural bliss. She is the cutest damn thing, but we just couldn't connect. While we blamed that on the language barrier, we ultimately realized that that wasn't the reason that we didn't sync. I saw this crash happening for a while, but that doesn't make it less unpleasant. I caught her between trips, and she will be gone for 2 weeks. We'll see how the "friends" angle works when she gets back. Current Mood: resigned
|Tuesday, July 30th, 2002|
|Cross-cultural happy post (sounds like cereal)
Things continue to go well with the new girl. Although, I have found that conversation can lag sometimes without shared experience. Different is very cool, but I am limited in my ability to make sarcastic observations about the US when she has not grown up here. The result is that I am becoming more sarcastic to others. I think the next step might be an extended "this is what I think is funny" date. If she doesn't run screaming or otherwise shrink in horror, this could be something. Current Mood: curious
|Monday, June 10th, 2002|
|First Happy Post!!!
I noticed that all of my other posts where varying forms of bitching and whining. No wonder my replies are thin (wait is that another whine? nevermind).
While this comes pretty quickly on the heels of the break-up post, I have spent the last two Saturdays with an interesting girl. She is a Japanese national who works as an economist. She is trei-cute, and we have a fun time. However, many of our conversations require both of us to explain words or pronouciations. This means that my perchant for sarcasm and other flip comments often go over her head (not hard I am a good ft taller). But on the other side, I learned how to say chopsticks in Japanese.
Oh, and she is an artist! (oils and textiles). Very cool.
The biggest cultural difference is that I don't know how to move this relationship forward. So far, it has consisted of great conversation and hugs. She is shy, but I am obtuse to signs comming from girls that grew up in the US, with her that would make me blind.
So, I am happy and confused, which means that there is potential Current Mood: Caustiously optimistic
|Tuesday, June 4th, 2002|
It took its time, but I broke up with Kate. It wasn't mean or quick. It was actually a connection deeper than we ever had during the relationship. My mind keeps telling me that this might have just been a step, rather than an end, but my feelings aren't making alot of sense right now. It's been three days and I miss her. I always seem to get the most interested in someone in the end. If I can make it through the week, I think that things will be better. Current Mood: numb
|Monday, May 13th, 2002|
|Warning "Girlfriend" bitch session
I recently set up a birthday celebration for my brother and my roommate, who have B-days within two weeks of each other, and because my brothers birthday was three days before a big argument at work.
Thinking that it would be nice to invite my girlfriend to the gathering, I asked her to come-out. At the last minute I got free tickets to Peter Murphy for the night before the party. Knowing that she used to love Bauhaus I invited her and went. Most of Murphy's set would put a meth-head to sleep (but he still has a cool voice). Regardless, we had a nice time and then had a pleasant midnight breakfast.
The next night, she comes over as I am cutting up veggies for the party, and immediately starts complaining about not having mixers. A short walk to the white hen remedies this. After the folks arrived (the party was small on account of rain) the group talked and opened presents. My girlfriend seemed to be really enjoying the conversation. Brother got mostly silly stuff and Roommate got desperately needed golf-lessons.
Soon there after, my girlfriend started to urge us to go out to the bars. After about an hour we went. At the first bar she informs me that she has already had her fill of alcohol (between sips of a rum and coke) and that she wants to go back for the boot knocking part of the evening. I having set up this gathering and don't want to abandon the birthday boys (both wanted to beat me in pool, which is not hard) I no longer drink more than 3 beers in a night, but I have an amazing capacity to suck at pool regardless.
A few games into pool, my girlfriend decides to start talking and flirting with a Morisey-looking chump at the bar (with frequent looks over her shoulder to make sure that I know it). That was less than pleasant. However, the night wasn't all bad. I had a nice talk with my friend's wife, who then set up my terminally shy brother to talk with a blonde cutie.
I finished the night feeling like a discarded boy-toy, while my "girlfriend" tried to play my jealousy strings.
It was at that point that I realized that I did not really have any. Rather I was just pissed that she would pull this kind of crap after having such a nice night just the day before.
The tune that was playing in my head was moving on.
That tune gets pretty loud when you are sitting there listening to her hurl up her shoes, and then talk about how the guy thought she was so young. Current Mood: irritated
|Monday, June 25th, 2001|
|Fun with Flights: a travelogue
Recently, I did my best to return home. Apparently, you can't go home again. Yes, very wise saying... very applicable here...
No, wait a minute. It doesn't apply at all. I wasn't try to regain a lost childhood. I was just trying to get home. Literally.
I was stuck in Ronald Reagan Airport in Washington, D.C. this Friday. As if the name wasn't enough to make you shudder. (In complete denial, I took to pronouncing it Reegan - the cabbies didn't appreciate it) I had a 7pm flight, and they decided to cancel the flight and shut down the whole airport at about 8:45 because of storms out west. This little jerkwater air-shack had a 10pm curfew for flights.
So, I along with several hundred other saps hit the phones looking for rooms. What luck, I found one, and even got a new flight for 8am the next morning. I could get home and get nice breakfast.
Got up early, went to the airport. Even boarded the plane. The 7am got out just fine. The 9am went off without a hitch. The 8am sat at the gate while the ground crew took turns looking at the hole they found in the engine. They didn't bother to tell us until all the standbys where well stacked up.
Next step stand in line for a new flight. I get 2 people away from the counter, and they decide to hold a foot-race to the gate for who can fly to LaGuardia and then to this place I like to call the increasingly expensively parked car in Chicago.
After trampling a few people, I got on the flight, but had a bad feeling that I was going to be stuck in NY. I didn't even have to wait that long for the bad stuff to continue.
We were approaching LaGuardia. The pilot had not even bothered to tell us that he was trying to land, when I look outside and see water. The airport is built next to the water, but couldn't see any land! All I saw before the idiot punched the engine to climb away was a red and white painted pier that wouldn't try to land a bike on.
After that we spent 30 minutes circling, while I am sure the tower was heckling the braintrust in the nose. and true to form when we landed they kicked us off the plane.
Got into another line. They were much more informative than the last line. They said that they had enough room for 17 people. Funny, they said 30 at Reegan? But it was ok, because I was only 11 people back. Ah basking in the feeling of being homeward bound I heard them start calling out names instead of taking us in line order.
What do you know. Didn't get that flight. Instead I got one for 2pm.
Hmm.. I hadn't eaten all day. So, I went for a snack, of which there were almost none. I consolled myself with some doritos and a bag of twizlers. best damn flavored rubber I ever had.
So, I read a little relaxing in the knoweledge that soon I would be homeward bound. We boarded on time. This was a good sign, but then nothing else happened. Apparently, the crew was still flying in on another flight. 3pm the crew shows up, and SPENDS THE NEXT HOUR futzing. no anouncements; no drink; a lame oatmeal bar. Then out of the goodness of his heart the captain comes on and says that it will be at least another 90 minutes before we get off the ground, because of the line to take off.
At this point the herding instinct breaks and HALF THE PLANE stands up and tries to run off the plane on an errand. No one seems to understand that we have to close the door to get in line to take off. After most of the plane comes to it senses, only three people are arguing with the pilot and the attendants at the door. 30 minutes go by. It's just one guy. Get on get off. Make up your fucking mind.
The calm acceptance of fate that I had been cultivating since 6pm the night before finally collapsed, and in that moment the fucker decides to stay on board, but not before electing to take a shit to delay our departure further.
After waiting for 2 dozen planes, the flight was easy. We got no food, so I got a tomato juice to keep my stomach from eating itself. I was only half successful. Then it was a turbulent flight home.
Oh, did I mention that the lady I ran over to get the flight to NY sat next to me on flight home? Current Mood: cranky
|Highly Focused Dumbshit
It seems like the longer I have been alive the more stuff I forget. Cumulatively, I couldn't be more right. However, it is more than that. I remember (if I can trust that) being able to keep up a rambling conversation forever. Now, I am so focused on a few thing (read work) that I have become an utter dumbshit on other topics. And being able to pick topics out of the air, Please.
It is disturbing how often I can't think of anything to say. I can actually feel my ego running around kicking over boxes in the blind alley that has become of my mind looking vainly for something interesting to say.
Of course, it might just be that I am out of practice, or have been talking to the same people for so long that I rely too much on non-vocal cues. Or, my mind is rotted by technical BS and bad TV.
Whatever it is, I have become incapable of the conversations that I used to live for. Therefore, I need to break old ground and old topics to regain my ability to blather about useless shit for hours. Now, if I can just schedule the time... Current Mood: indescribable
|Wednesday, June 20th, 2001|
Well, it has come down to that time again. Not since the heady days of college have I had to resort to such belt tightening. But don't worry ladies, while I won't be meeting you out at the bars, I always look my best when surviving on that low cost mulch of ramen noodles and tuna. At this rate I should be back up to my over-consumptive glutenous ways that make this country proud by the end of summer.
Until then, does anyone know of any good deals on plankton? Current Mood: hungry
|Monday, June 18th, 2001|
|What a sack
After a disappointing day of golf, I was riding home listening to "Candy" by Iggy Pop and whatshername. I was attempting to blow my speakers and singing at the top of my lungs. All in all, I was feeling a lot better about the day. Then I passed a skinhead fuck sacrastically clapping, and I went from feeling good about my terrible singing to wanting to kill a man with a tire iron.
Cannot someone be amused without making a snide comment? Or am I attacking the very medium I am using? Current Mood: cynical