Nolan lives

Im sorry for not posting more films from the awesome camera you guys gave me. however I dont regret bringing it underway with me. Sublife is extremely stressful, the rules are really strict. and there are many a theif aboard my sub. So far I have been relieved of an overseas phone, a yellow t-shirt, and some of my blue t-shirts. Things I thought would be worthless to another person are now gone... imgine what would he happened if i brought the camera with me... yeah... suckass stupendous. I'm still gonna try to find a way to contct you guys in norway but if I can't I'll see you in a month anyway.

I have some crazy stories to share too. but at the moment my mind draws a blank on any of those stories. being cramped in a sub has a way of making one stupider. and tired and sleepy and grouchy and lippy and gay (cept for me)

I Don't Have Anything to Write About, So...

...here are some fun links from Kimber.

http://www.jimspancakes.com

http://current.com/groups/sarah-haskins

http://supercrazymonsters.blogspot.com

http://twitter.com/shitmydadsays

Weezer: Sexist but Fun

Kimber feels conflict, but is easily distracted from it.

Weezer's latest album, Ratitude, can be a little grating on my feminist ears because the lyrics are fairly sexist. Weezer has had sexist overtones since their first album ("I want a girl who will laugh for no one else", how much more controlling can you get?), but Ratitude has especially prominent problems with tracks like "The Girl Got Hot", "I'm Your Daddy", and "Can't Stop Partying", among other tracks.

"The Girl Got Hot" is annoying simply because the subject of the song finds value through her blossoming physical attractiveness. The singer finds her interesting only after she "got hot", and remarks that the "other girls in town" find things lacking in comparison simply because "she got hot and they did not". Descriptions of what makes the girl interesting are limited to her physical appearance, yet the singer claims to be falling in love with her. This cheapens the value of women by suggesting that any allure, interest, or value they may hold lies solely in their physical appearance, rather than in their mental, emotional, or other capability.

In the song "I'm your daddy", the title lyric "you are my baby tonight/and I'm your daddy" reinforces the infantilization of women and lends support to the general idea that women need to be taken care of, while men gain superiority through their financial favors. The lyrics are a representation of the most predictable form of love/affection/what-have-you, in that the subject couple's love is unique, unpredictable, and fleeting, but depends on the girl being willing to follow the guy's lead.

"Can't Stop Partying" states that the singer needs "a lot of pretty girls around me", along with "the beat", "Patron", and "the jewels". Women are simply a status symbol, as well as another element of addiction in the partying lifestyle ("all the girls in the corner getting loose"). The song is about the shallow party lifestyle, but women are reduced to parts in the machine of that lifestyle, rather than being people who also may choose that lifestyle.

However, as troubling as the lyrics of the album are, the songs are something I can hum along to, break out in a little dance to, and generally just allow me to rock out. I feel as though I'm selling out on my values, but Rivers Cuomo has compiled an album that is musically fun, thus allowing me to occasionally ignore the sexist lyrics and give in to the music.

I would usually ignore completely any band that had even this marginal amount of misogyny in their lyrics, but Weezer redeems themselves through other songs like "Put Me Back Together", "Love is the Answer", and "I Don't Want to Let You Go" that speak of real human connection and a need for each other. These songs aren't the best material that Weezer has produced, but they are representative of the better qualities of the band, and enable the album Ratitude to be something I don't completely object to. In short, I think Rivers Cuomo is sensitive in many ways, but his portrayal of women could use some work. Still, he has a knack for crafting songs that are just plain fun, so I won't be boycotting his music anytime soon.

Facebook is Being Difficult

Kimber is experiencing technical difficulties.

I know this blog isn't very focused, and that makes it hard to attract readers, but I still want lots of people to read it so that I can make lots of money from advertising and then be able to quit my job and never look back. That's not too much to hope for, is it? So, in an effort to make more people aware of this blog, and the frequency with which it is updated, I was trying to link it to my notes on my Facebook account. Sadly though, that does not look as if it is to be, simply because Facebook keeps having problems, so I haven't been able to complete the process.

Similarly, I've been having trouble making my Amazon payments account link to my bank account, so I can't spend the pittance I make working on Amazon Mechanical Turk when I'm watching TV and bored. This is beside my main point, but also frustrating and a road block on my way to making money off the internet while sitting on my butt at home.

I do plan to go to a real job today, so maybe I'll use their internet to link my Facebook notes and this blog. I have very crappy internet at home, so maybe that's the problem, though probably not. What's likely really going on is that Mark Zuckerberg is jealous of how awesome I am and so is doing everything he can to keep other people from finding out about it so his fragile ego isn't destroyed. Wish me luck in overcoming the conspiracy against my coolness.

Colder Weather is Great, Until Your Apartment Floods

Kimber has problems.

A few mornings ago I noticed that walking around in the carpeted section of my apartment didn't smell so good, and it was making my feet wet. At first I felt like blaming one of the dogs (really blaming Spartacus, since he is the bad one), but after a few exploratory sniffs, I realized it wasn't urine.

This happens every year, but I always manage to forget about it. When it rains or snows very hard, the water seeps in underneath the carpet, causing my apartment to smell like mildew, and my floor to be unpleasantly damp. There's really nothing I can do about it that wouldn't involve a back hoe, so every year I'm stuck pulling things up off the floor, doing my best to keep things dry, and wondering if I'm doing any damage to my respiratory system by constantly breathing in mold or mildew.

There really is no point or lesson to this blog, other than to say that sometimes crappy things happen, and there's really nothing you can do about them. However, those crappy things usually aren't so bad, and may even give you the chance to wear your rain boots with your pajamas, thus giving you the opportunity to play Florida Glades with your dogs (the schnauzers are gators, watch out!)

I Love the Farmers Market

BYU has been hosting a test farmers market over the past few weeks to see if they should hold one full-time next year. It's being held on Thursdays from two till seven until October 14th. Try to go, as higher turn-out means it's more likely they will hold it again next year.

I care so much about the continuation of any farmers market because they are so awesome. I feel healthier just shopping at a farmers market, and the produce is usually organic or heirloom variety (which just means it will probably look uglier, but taste better and contain more nutrients). I also think it's really important to support the local economy by truly shopping locally, and what could be more local than a farmers market?

When I first started going to the farmers market, I was extremely nervous, because one of the things a lot of people tend to like about farmers markets is being able to talk to the farmers. This is good if you want to know where and how your produce was raised, and the best ways to store and prepare it. This is bad if you have extreme social anxiety like I do. Still, after a few shaky tries, I found that most farmers are happy, open people who are enthusiastic about what they are selling and delighted to share information about their produce. I actually learned a lot of really interesting stuff just from a few short conversations, and I now can wander around an open market with much less anxiety than I normally have.

There are two drawbacks to a farmers market. The produce tends to be more expensive, and the times and places the market is hosted are not always convenient. I can't go to a farmers market at two in the morning for a doughnut run, and I find I have to be much more mindful of how I'm spending my money at a farmers market. However, I like that I have to make time for the farmers market. It means that I am more conscious of what I am eating, and the effort it took to produce it. Spending a little more is kind of frustrating, especially as a poor student, but it does feel good to know that my money is staying in the local economy, that I'm supporting people I am getting to know, rather than throwing money at a faceless corporation, and I do get a little bit of a superiority kick out of living my ideals. In short, the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks.

So, in conclusion, I highly encourage everyone that is able to carve out a little extra time, save up a few extra dollars, and head down to their local farmers market, if anything, for their own happiness.

Pictures that I found on this computer

I thought I would remind you guys why we all love Nolan so much.

Learnding is Hard

Kimber gripes, sort of.

Jarret and Devin got an x-box yesterday, along with the new Halo game. This is all well and fine, except for the fact that my video-game experience is limited to about two and a half games of Ms. Pacman I got to play last time I went to Las Vegas.

I come from a very strict family, especially in regards to media. We didn't watch a lot of movies, television was off-limits, and Reader's Digest was the only magazine I was allowed to look at. Video games were strictly off-limits, as they would make us kids both stupid and violent, an admittedly bad combination, but one which likely would not have been the result of a few rounds of Mario.

So, since Devin and Jarret are good and supportive friends, I find myself trying to play video games for the first time ever. Unfortunately, I still have trouble making my avatar move where I want him to, but fortunately, Devin and Jarret are adept enough that they can run around me killing bad guys while I bonk myself in the head trying to turn around so I can get out of a corner.

I don't have a moral or lesson I've learned from this experience, other than learning is hard, though I've found that out on several occasions. And while playing Halo still involves more screaming at the controls than it does screaming at the enemy, I am starting to get the hang of it, and it is really fun. I'm definitely going to let my kids play video games.

A Shout-Out

Kimber shouts.

Hello Nolan in Scotland. I'm sorry I keep missing your calls, but I am glad to hear that you're alive, in an awesome country, and presumably in good health. However, I am a little disappointed in the fact that you have yet to post more videos. We got you that camera for Christmas for a reason, don't you know?

Books to Live By

Kimber thinks the scriptures are important, but she has also found other important knowledge in other books which are not the scriptures and which she will tell you about right now. But seriously, read your scriptures; there's some crazy stuff in there.

Born To Run by Christopher Mcdougall: This book not only told an awesome story about running, but it explains why all people were born to run, and why. It made me, one of the laziest people in the world, start running. So even if you don't want to read it, you know it's convincing.

Guns, Germs & Steel by Jared Steel: This book explains, to put it bluntly, why brown people aren't as technologically advanced as white people. Don't worry, it's not racist, but it does explain a lot about a lot. It may be a little academic for some peoples' tastes, but I liked it, so you should too.

Garden Anywhere by Alys Fowler: I hated yardwork until I read this book. Alys Fowler is a classically trained gardener who approaches things guerilla style. She's a proponent of dumpster diving, seed gathering, and renters' gardens.

That's all I can think of for now. Look for a part two tomorrow.

Why the Post Office is Awesome

Kimber goes on a happy rant.

I love the United States Post Office. They have friendly, competent workers, they make stamps that are little works of art, and they deliver to and pick up straight from your house. I know that a lot of people hate the long lines, junk catalogs, and occasionally lost piece of mail, but I think this is all part of the adventure. Junk mail can be recycled (and it gives me a David and Goliath feeling to hunt down the right way to get my name removed from the list), long lines give me a chance to people watch without seeming creepy, and lost mail is just an odd thing that happens every now and again, like the bus running early, or my dog chewing up my favorite piece of clothing. Sometimes life has a few speed bumps, but I think they're there to show us what a problem really is, as opposed to an annoyance.

More important than all of that is the sense of importance I get when things come for me in the mail. I love ordering packages online, and getting letters are even better. I'm a little sad about direct deposit, because it means I don't get a paycheck in the mail, but I suppose that's a good thing, because then I don't have to worry about going to the bank in time to cash it. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love getting letters in the mail. It means the person took the time to send me something, even if it's just a post card with a hastily scribbled note on the back, and that they didn't mind getting stamps, putting it in the mail box, or the risk that I might not get it. To me, personal mail means love, which is why I try to send out as many letters as I can.

White Guilt

Kimber doesn't know what to do.

I like to read feministe, a feminist blog which has guest bloggers during the summer. One of these bloggers is Maia, an insightful woman who, while rejecting the use of punctuation and typical editing, has opened my mind up to new points of view. However, though she is showing me a new way of thinking about things, I also find myself dredging up a lot of old anxieties, particularly the one that I am racist.

I have yet to do anything blatantly racist, and I'm pretty sure the few inadvertent racism faux pas I've made have been taken care of (i.e. I've apologized and pinpointed what was wrong with my thinking). Still, I worry that by the very nature of being white, I am oppressing colored people the world over.

Really, this anxiety is making me more racist than anything, because every time I see a person of color I go out of my way to be nice to them, or even just smile at them as I'm passing them on the street. It's a kind of screwed-up personal affirmative action.

I partially blame this on growing up in a primarily white community. I had a few multiracial friends as a child, but that was before my anxiety started to crop up. By the time I was nine, all my friends were white, and they've mostly stayed that way. Thinking about it, I realize I've had several non-white friends, but pointing to them as proof of my non-racism just feels more racist.

Really, this is all terribly egotistical. If anything, I should just accept that possibly I am racist (or at least have racist behaviors). I don't really think this is true, but it is the worst that could happen, so accepting it, resolving to do better, and moving on might be the best course of action I could take. Plus, it would result in less anxiety-related stomach aches.

The Bee Whisperer

Kimber shares some information about some of her favorite insects.

Bees, though scary to many people, are actually quite easy-going as long as their space is not violated. I walk within three feet of a beehive on a regular basis, and have yet to get stung. The trick is to walk slowly, as bees have trouble changing their flight pattern quickly, and if something gets in their way they're likely to sting. Bees can also smell fear, so act confidently when around them. For the people who hate having bees buzzing around them outside, remember that if you're wearing bright colors, they might just be exploring to see if you're a good source of nectar. Let them do their thing, and they'll leave you alone.

This may be obvious, but bees are not wasps, so the same rules won't apply if you're being bothered by a wasp. Honey bees are fuzzy, golden in color, and have a fairly compact body. Wasps are bright yellow, devoid of fuzz, and have long legs and a separated body. Wasps can be helpful when eating garden pests, but I smash them anyway as they're quite mean. If you are planning on killing a wasp, remember that while bees can only sting you once before they die, wasps can sting as many times as they please, so make sure you do the job right the first time.

Easy Spice

Kimber provides a quick tip.

I am a huge fan of cooking, especially the educational and experimental kind. However, at the end of a long day, sometimes you just want to eat quickly. If frozen dinners and pre-packaged food aren't your thing, and you can get to a Trader Joe's at least once a year, then this at-home fast food doesn't have to be tasteless.

I am a huge fan of the Trader Joe's spice mixes. I started out with their 21 Seasoning Salute, a saltless flavoring that adds interest to any dish, but that seems to go especially well with beef and pork. I like to add a tablespoon or so to a meatloaf to make it more flavorful and satisfying.

The Trader Joe's Lemon Pepper grinder is heaven sent. Most lemon pepper mixes quickly go stale or are bland to start with. This mix comes in a little spice jar with its own grinder, so you're always getting a toothsome mix of freshly-ground peppercorns, lemon peel, and sea salt. One taste, and you won't want to use any other kind of lemon pepper again.

My last recommendation, and most recent discovery, is the Trader Joe's Everyday Seasoning. Like the lemon pepper, it comes with its own grinder, so it always tastes fresh, and it offers a more uncoventional mix of spices that are novel, intriguinging, and incredibly delicious. I know that many people are very familiar with the tastes of these spices, but for one coming from a bland repetoire of unimaginative food, this spice mix was a god-send. It includes coriander, paprika, and chile pepper, so it can be a bit spicy, but I can't stop putting it on all of my food.

If you are reading this post and are baffled because you don't know what a Trader Joe's is, google them, find their website, and request that they establish a location near you. Trust me, it's worth it.

Being an Adult is Realizing People's Lives Don't Revolve Around You

Kimber explains something that a lot of people don't seem to get.

Many people in my life have yet to learn the simple lesson that not everybody is thinking about them every minute of every day. People naturally think of themselves first, because they're the person they spend the most time with. Everyone else is secondary. This doesn't mean that people don't care for or consider each other, it just means that we shouldn't be so hurt when someone accidentaly overlooks us.

I could continue this blog to rant about how selfish people can be, and why they annoy me, but the truth is that I started this subject because of my own hurt feelings. I don't know why, but once I put my mind to something, I expect it to be an instant success. I always forget about the hard work and patience part, no matter what it is. I've been feeling down about my lawn because it didn't turn instantly lush and green after I started caring for it, disapointed in how slowly my house is becoming organized and clutter free, and downright depressed about my low blog-readership.

Projects, goals, and relationships all take time to cultivate; almost nothing that really matters can happen in a snap. If I want relatives to think fondly of me, I need to put in the time to write them letters, visit them, and take their phone calls. If I want my dogs to be well-behaved, I need to provide consistent training and guidance. If I want people to read what I write, I need to make it interesting, relevant, and well-publicized.

Really, I need to realize that people in general care about me and what I do much less than I care about me and what I'm doing. I'm more accomplished at this than several people I could name, but I'm not yet proficient at it to have the grace to let people become interested in my projects on their own time, rather than being frustrated when not met with instant success.

My Time Management Stumbling Block

Kimber explains one of her biggest problems.

When I moved out of my parents' house for the first time, the sense of freedom was a little scary. I could watch 'R' rated movies without hiding it. I could stay up as late as I liked, and sleep in without worrying about anyone pulling the mattress off the bed with me on top of it.

I definitely took this newfound freedom too far, as I quickly started neglecting my responsibilities, and found myself failing in a lot of the things that I had formerly found to be easy. Much of my adult life since then has been dedicated to rediscovering a sense of order. I now use my planner and to-do lists faithfully, and have spent a lot of time figuring out just how many things I could put on said to-do lists without making myself want to give up and go back to sleep.

Time management is still a major weakness for me, but I'm getting better. I'm finally to the point where I get almost everything done that I need to in a day. Though, making it to appointments on time is another story.

New Packaging for an Old Product

Kimber takes a new direction.

My pipe dream is to become a writer, and a further pipe dream tells me I can do this by being discovered in one way or another. Also, I'm jealous of all those people who have managed to create a blog popular enough that they can live off of it and resulting deals. I want to be one of those people, and after long thought and consideration, I've decided I can be, I just have to follow the right steps.

Step One: This blog needs a theme. Since there are three posters and a myriad of subjects, it was kind of hard for me to come up with a coherant theme, until I realized that a lot of the stuff we write about is dealing with problems we're running into as our life situations change. In other words, we can't slack off anymore, and we don't like that. Thus the new subtitle of the blog will be "The Messy Transition to Responsibility and Adulthood". This is a broad enough subject that Nolan can keep writing about washing his hands in urinals, but it will allow something for our readers to identify with.

Step Two: Post every day. This will be a hard step, because I am lazy, but I've been noticing that the most popular blogs post on a regular basis, so that people will know when they can read new material.

Step Three: Advertise the crap out of this thing. No one will read our blog if no one has heard about it, so I'm re-instituting the graffiti campaign for Time to Wipe the Crack. It's pretty much a one-woman show, but I figure that every little bit helps, and once we get enough loyal readers, they might start telling their friends, and then the New York Times will notice us, and then I'll get a book deal, win a Nobel Peace Prize for literature, and live happily ever after. Hey, don't scoff, I told you this was a pipe dream.

oops in Brtian

This is Nolan speaking from England

Yesterday something really embaressing happened... Let me tell the story.

So I had to take a piss see, like we all usually have to do every once in a while. And I found a Toilet place. (I have a sneaking suspicion that they don't have toilets in the resturants if they have their own facilities in the middle of town.) What happened next was utter confusion. They didn't have sinks and soap dispencers they just had a wall with running water and a box that appearently was used to dry your hands. Anyway I waved my hands in front of the wall of running water and nothing happened. I was like >.>. then one of the water falls came on. So I proceeded to rince my hands. that's when a local came in and gave me a look that went kinda like this :/. then he unzipped his pants and started to pee in the wall with running water to the left of me. come to find out the box was used to soap wash and dry your hands, due to my ignorance I was washing in a urinal. I wonder how other foreigners deal with our customs? Do they drink out of the toilet?

Why I Impulse Buy New Notebooks

Kimber explains a bad habit.



Every time I go to a store at which notebooks are sold, I have to make a conscious effort not to buy one. The notebooks don't even have to be pretty or original. I'm just as tempted by the crappy spiral-bound school notebooks they sell for 47 cents as I am by hand-stitched Italian leather journals that are sold for the price of a small child.

The thing is, when I get my new notebook home, I hardly ever use it, and I have yet to fill a notebook up. This seems like a terrible waste to me, yet I continue to have the urge to buy notebooks, wherever I am, and regardless of how many notebooks I've acquired in the last week.

I think this illogical desire stems from the possibility that a blank notebook holds. Before I've filled pages with shopping lists, undecipherable doodles, and resentfully taken notes, a notebook is full of promise of the great American novel, an award-winning play, or even just a comedy routine that kills. I imagine that the only reason I haven't written these things yet is that I haven't found the right sort of paper on which to put them down. I never want to acknowledge the truth that I just don't want to go the work of polishing something mediocre into something great, and I have yet to recognize that maybe I don't have anything that important to say.

So I continue to buy notebooks, because in the end, they are a far cheaper impulse buy than what it would cost me to really accept that they will never have anything meaningful written in them.

My Love Affair with Meat

Kimber thinks the title of the post may or may not sound dirty, depending on the person's mindset. She'd like to inform the readers that she only loves to eat meat, not do ANYTHING else with it.

I've recently been on a health food kick, where I read books like Fast Food Nation, The China Study, and In Defense of Food. This inspires me to eat better, but I usually end up craving all the unhealthy foods they talk about, and then seek them out before I'm halfway through the book. I have made some overall improvements in my eating habits, but mostly I just buy more fruits and vegetables, then end up feeding them to my dogs.

While I do want the benefits of eating healthily, and I like vegetarianism, raw foodism, and slow food as concepts; in practice I love chicken, I adore pork, and I'd die for a good steak. I enjoy eating salad, as long as I know it will be followed with a substantial amount of meat, or at the very least some sort of refined carbohydrate.

I've made a pro/con list of whether or not to give up meat and start eating a balanced diet in earnest. Sad to say, I'm willing to cut a couple of years off my life and add a few inches to my waistline as long as I'll be able to eat meat, fat, carbohydrates, and sugar. Luckily, even the very strict China Study has a loophole.

You see, the China Study, and other studies similar to it, measure food intake in terms of percentages, so by increasing consumption of a certain type of food (say, vegetables), then you will automatically decrease your consumption percentage of another type of food (like meat, for instance), without actually changing how much you eat of the second group of food.

Since my pro/con list clearly states that I cannot stand to give up meat altogether (just the cheap hot dogs and fast food hamburgers), I have decided to significantly increase my vegetable intake, thus decreasing my meat intake, hopefully to the recommended five percent. If that fails, I can always go back to giving the dogs my leftovers.

Crusty Boogers and The A-Team

Kimber goes over the highlights of her day.

My dog Grendel, while I love him, is a sick little puppy. Not that he's into weird sex acts or anything (actually he is, but that's material for another post), he just is fighting off some sort of doggie cold. This would be fine, except dogs are unable to pick their own noses, so I have to do it for him.

This brings to mind a movie I saw today; The A-Team. Like picking a dog's nose, The A-Team was better than I expected it would be, but still sticky and confusing. It was surprisingly enjoyable, but got bogged down at the end by unnecessary complications. I could be talking about the movie or the dog's nose now, I'll let you decide. I was a little disappointed that Mr. T didn't have a cameo (I'm referring to the movie now), and I felt like the writers were trying to make the movie deeper than it needed to be by making a series of plot twists that didn't need to be made.

I was going to review the movie more than that, but I'm tired, and that was the best I could think of to describe how I felt about it. Besides, Grendel is starting to get clogged up again, so I have to go.

Why My Dogs Are Awesome

Kimber explains some things about her two pet schnauzers.

1. They can always make me laugh. Especially when I've used my bathrobe (otherwise known as Kimber's plaid kimono) to turn two dogs into one push-me-pull-me.

2. Spartacus (the little grey one) can sense when I'm uncomfortable in a situation, and responds by pooping on the offending person, or their belongings.

3. Grendel (the black one) sleeps more than I do. That's a lot.

4. They both love me no matter what I do.

5. Spartacus routinely runs into things, then looks at me like nothing happened.

6. Grendel knows when I'm not fond of a visitor, and responds by resolutely ignoring them, no matter how much they try to get his attention.

7. Spartacus rolls onto his back to show his submissiveness, even when I'm just trying to play with him.

8. Grendel doesn't chase children.

9. Spartacus does.

10. No matter how rotten either of them are, I still want them around, because even their rotten stuff is kind of funny, like the time Spartacus stole one of my bras, ripped it up, then ran around the yard with the neighbors laughing while he wore it like a cape.

Sprouting Satisfaction

Kimber (slightly) overcomes her laziness.

I have never been a fan of hard work. I look for the easy way out, no matter what I'm doing, and I always do just enough to scrape by. Which is why I was surprised last January when the desire to garden came over me. I found myself panting at the window, waiting for spring to come so I could weed and mulch, till and plant. I only waited till February before I was laying cardboard down (to smother the weeds) and looking for a cheap source of mulch to cover it with. By March I had bought more seeds than I could possibly plant, and in April I was hauling dirt and scrounging in dumpsters for suitable gardening pots (upcycling, you know).

And then I did nothing in May. It snowed off and on, but I didn't even bother to start seedlings indoors. Every so often I would go out to my dedicated gardening area and survey the work I had done months ago, but that was about it. By the time June arrived I barely wanted to turn on the sprinklers, much less actually do real work.

At this point I must digress to explain that this is typical behavior for me. Once in a blue moon I dream up a grand project for myself which I imagine will improve the quality of my life, make me a better, healthier, happier person, and enhance my satisfaction of everything. I'm very ambitious, until I have to do the work necessary to make such things happen. Then I decide that I'm really happy exactly how I am, don't really need to change anything, and wouldn't reap that many benefits anyway.

So I was all ready to let the gardening project slide, until I realized that I had already spent over a hundred dollars on seed, gardening tools, and gas to haul mulch around. I figured seed potatoes didn't have a satisfactory return policy, so over the past few days I've been grudgingly committing a little time every day to sow dreams I'd already given up on. All I needed to do to appease my guilt was put the seeds in dirt and water them a little. If they didn't come up, which I was sure they wouldn't, then at least I tried, and my money wasn't wasted, so much as mis-invested.

I finished planted everything yesterday, and felt a huge wave of relief that all I would have to do is splash a little water on things for a month or so until I was sure that everything was dead and beyond hope. And then I found a seedling.

Today, at dusk, I found one, tiny, adorable little sprout of green poking itself up through the dirt. Despite the fact that I had planted most of my seeds in cardboard boxes, in the cheapest dirt I could find, on a half-way mulched, fenced in, old dog pen, that one little seed had sprouted anyway.

I'm still unenthusiastic about work of all kinds, and I continue to plan to do all my gardening work just before the sun sets to that I have an excuse to quit when darkness falls, but that one little seedling has changed my outlook just a little bit. I won't be surprised if none of my plants survive long enough to produce anything edible, but I am a happier person for having coaxed that one little plant out of the dirt and towards the sun.

Not Quite Dead Yet

Kimber Disagrees with Devin.

I don't think this blog is gone, so much as it has been in a coma for the past few months. However, with summer upon us (and the related heat and unwillingness to be outside longer than it takes to hail down the ice cream truck) I am looking forward to much free time, which will mostly be used to finally train my dogs not to be assholes, but some of which will be used to get this blog running again.

That's not going to happen today though, and I'm hungry, so tune in tomorrow, to see what the mind of Kimber has in store for you.

Also, tell your friends about us. Pretty please?

A moment of self indulgance

Hi. Devin here. I've realized that our blog has pretty much all but fallen apart. It's sad.

But anyways, I'm not here to moan and whine I'm here to tell you that my zine is now done and it's also on Etsy! follow this link here. Don't worry if you're my friend I'll give you some free issues or whatever.

ANIME ORGASM

As we al know: anime is gay, however it became very popular... This proves that most of the people in the world are gay. A sure way to know if someone's gay is if they like anime; Another way to know is if they talk about the characters like they're real people.


once I figure out this shit I'll upload it...



fuck it here's the slow and shitty plotless movie about an emo boy that pilots big shit and kills big shit. I just gotta say if I piloted a giant peice of ass and I killed giant peices of ass I don't think I would be emo. Fucking ungrateful faggot.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=42968800

wondering about shit and stuff

This is Nolan here

This question is for Devin and Kimber; how come when I'm signed out I can only see the nerd night announment post in "Nerd Night Posts," But when I sign in I can see the full glory of this blog spot with unicorn meat and the bravest warriors and awesome stuff like that? It's a mystery to the Nolan, and the Nolan doesn't like mysteries. One time there was a mystery of Nolans missing 700 dollars, and it was another mystery of how Nolans broke room mate was able to afford a new Playstation3.

In other news I'm going to Norfolk Virginia on may 21st. I'll be on a sub for a few months and it might be a miserable stressful experience. Getting qualified really sucks from what I hear.

As a last note I think the navy has made me dumber

nolan

sorry about my apathy and lack of navy video porno postage. I'll work on organizing my time better so that I can stop scratching my ass and balls and start entertaining all you dub fucks... I MEAN incredibly sexy people with big shlongs. unless you're a woman.... Then it's a small shlong.

this is a friend of mine who posts art up on DeviantArt. We went paintballing and played some pool; it was fun.

I know I suck

Devin here. Yes I know that I haven't posted in a long time. I've been busy ok? I have to update two other blogs and also regularly sit on my butt. It's a tough life. Also since I have to get back to that butt sitting I'm just going to throw up a bunch of random stuff that I hope you like.

Alien vs Poo remember that time when facehuggers invaded the 100 acre wood? Yeah me neither but here it is.



Also I'm allowing myself to reveal one of the two blogs that I update. You can find it here I figure everyone on here already knows about this blog but if you don't then sorry I guess.
The other blog is secret and you're not allowed to read it unless you're smart and figure out that it's property of this same blogger account.

For Your Entertainment

Kimber shows you stuff.

What is going on with triangle? Really, what is it's problem?



Okay, now concentrate on this dot, the haze around it will disappear.



Are these circles or spirals?



Are these lines parallel?



Now, concentrate on the dot in the center, and these arrows will start to move.



Finally, look at this image for about twenty seconds, then look at a white piece of paper. You should see the American flag with the right colors.

new york vids try not to sleep

so this is the train ride to new york
no wair maybe this was the train ride I forgot

I Should Be Working, But...

...I feel a greater need to entertain you. (By Kimber)

Hello dear readers, I do apologize for our collective absence as of late. You see, Nolan is an ungrateful marshmallow who is not using his camera as he should, and Devin is busy discovering new hobbies. I'm just lazy, so I don't really have an excuse, other than that my family is falling apart, making it harder for me to steal food from them.

Since I can't think of anything else to write about, would you like to hear a bit of family gossip?

You would?

Excellent; but remember, this must stay only between you and me, dear reader, for you are the only one I can trust.

My sister, whose name starts with a 'C' and ends with an 'aralee' is being a giant butt. She has fallen for the twisted truths of my father and decided that my mother is evil. Not only has she decided this, but she decided to tell my mom this, and then call my mom a liar when she tried to defend herself. To top it all off, my sister then demanded that my mom pay for her summer and graduate school housing, or she threatened that she would move in with her boyfriend.

I should feel guilty gabbing about my family like this, but I don't, because my sister whose name begins with a 'C' and ends with an 'aralee' is an ungrateful bitch, and as we all know, ungrateful bitches have it coming.

So, dear reader, I have a mission for you. Carry a Sharpie with you, and when you find an opportunity, write "Caralee is a fathead" on some public surface, and then wait with me for the truth to spread.

Trendsetters

Kimber reports.

The LDS Film Festival is currently being held at the Scera Theatre. I wouldn't recommend that you go though, as most LDS films suck. However, the nerd night crew did take part in the 24 Hour Film Making Marathon, and completed it successfully. We didn't win any prizes, overhear any old ladies say how awful our film was, or even get our DV tape back (what the hell, festival organizers?), but we are trendsetters.

Two years ago, when Devin, Nolan and I entered the 24 hour film contest, we made a movie about a hobo killer. During the screening of that film people gasped in horror, children cried, and it was a worthwhile experience for all three of us. Back then the LDS film festival consisted of milquetoast testimonial films and feelgood crap. We were the only film with hobos, violence, and a macabre sense of humor.

Two years later and half the films have hobos, while the other half have violence. We've made some great strides forward in getting LDS filmgoers to understand that not everything is about being good, but we still didn't get a prize. Oh well, there's always next year.

Toilets and Footprints

Kimber speculates.

I'm not sure what it is about bathrooms that scream "decorate me with religious sentiment", but people really take that advice to heart. Both my grandmothers have a copy of the "Footprints" poem hanging in their bathroom(you know, the one where Jesus carries the guy through all the hard parts of his life), and in the last week alone I've seen the poem hanging in three other bathrooms.

The washroom deserves to be decorated as much as any other space in the house, but why do people so commonly decorate it with slightly corny poems? I do want to make it clear that I think the "Footprints" poem is a touching one, but its sentiment is undermined by the fact that nine times out of ten, when I see it I am passing bodily waste.

Perhaps hanging religious poems in one's bathroom stems from a desire to appear classy while simultaneously providing mental stimulation, should any be needed. My grandmother likely wouldn't approve of the fact that I decorate my bathroom with whatever I find funny (my toilet has a sign hanging on it which reads "I'm a media console"), and she would definitely think it's disgusting that I keep the current copy of Vanity Fair as easily reachable as the toilet paper.

What I find to be a comfortable, useful space, my grandmother views as repellent. To be fair, I see her bathroom as equally repellent, as all she has in it are a set of matching towels and the "Footsteps" poem. How we've each chosen to present the most intimate of rooms to the world is very different.

After considering it for some time, I've come to the conclusion that what we put in our bathroom reflects how we want people to think about us. Publicly, I let it all hang out, so to speak. The only thing not easily apparent to my guests are the extra roles of toilet paper and feminine hygiene supplies I keep under the sink, and even if someone were to snoop, I wouldn't be embarrassed. On the other hand, my grandmother's washroom presents a very proper face to visitors, but doesn't betray that fact that as soon as she's done using it she makes an entry into her poo diary; a notebook she keeps in her bedside table which has records on every single one of her bowel movements since the mid-sixties.

She would be horrified that I put that information on the internet, but she doesn't have a computer, so I'm not worried.

While my grandmother is confident in calling me limited for referring to "urine" as "pee", I am confident in calling her anally fixated for keeping a poo diary. We both think we're right, and we both have some evidence to back us up, but in the end I think I'm more comfortable, because I don't have any secrets lurking behind a framed copy of "Footsteps".

hey

my new video is in the nerd night post...
IT WAS AN ACCIDENT XD

Early Onset Alzheimers

Kimber forgets.

Today on campus several people said hello, asked me about my life, and even noticed my different haircut and new bag. These people seem to know me, and like me, but I can't remember who they are. They look familiar, but whether it's from a class I took last semester, high school, or a play date when I was seven, I can't place them.

Here and there this creates a little awkwardness, but mostly I smile, inquire about their life, make a few mild jokes, and then wish them a good day before running for my life. I'm not used to this procedure so much as I go into it automatically, like some kind of social emergency operation.

The brain has long-term and short-term memory. Short term memory is limited, and is usually used to manipulate information, or to create reminders. Once something has been sufficiently learned, it is stored in long-term memory, where theoretically it stays forever, requiring only the right stimulus to bring it out. I'm sure these people are stored in my long-term memory somewhere, and that I used to like them since they remember me so fondly, but for some reason I'm not able to find the right stimulus to bring them out.

I like to think this is simple forgetfullness, but that can't be the case, as I can still remember random facts I learned when I was seven, elaborate life stories I made for myself when I was twelve, and arcane academic theories about the English language I learned when I was twenty. Some of these people I've met more recently than that, yet I can't recall who they are or where I met them.

Sadly enough, I think the simple truth of the matter is that I don't care to remember them. Things have changed dramatically for me since high school, and I present a different face to my college classmates than I do to my real friends. Either shame for who I am now, or anxiety about how people will react to me, keeps me from connecting to people in a way that lets me remember them. Their names and faces and stories are somewhere in my long-term memory, but I no longer have, or no longer want to find the triggers that will give me access.