funny, photography

Note that the burners are going under all three pots. The fourth burner is going too, making hot cocoa.

Nikon D200 + old school Nikon 28/2.8 e series lens + carbon legged tripod + bounce flash

juggling
Note the pots

 

funny, other

Here in Guatemala

1. Possums eat chickens, and in return folks eat possums. You know how possums love to play dead? Sometimes they’ll decide to play dead after they’re caught and clubbed. Then sometimes they come back to life after being skinned. Can you say angry-zombie-possum?

2. Common courtship process:
i. Boy and girl meet
ii. Boy decides he likes the girl, drives up to her house sometime after one in the morning and cranks a love song on his stereo for some indeterminate amount of time
iii. Girl goes to window and swoons for this indeterminate period of time, or goes to window to glare briefly then goes back to bed.
iv. Depends on the result of iii: (negative) the boy repeats step iii until he goes back to step i, or (positive) the boy and girl start to date.
v. After some time of going out, they become “novios,” something pretty similar  to being boyfriend/girlfriend. Then after being novios for a while, they get married.

…at any point in the process, either the boy or the girl can tell the other that they do or don’t like him/her; often neither this event nor whether or not it’s reciprocated generally affect any of the five steps.

3. It is not a meal if there are not tortillas. Literally, like it doesn’t count as a meal without them–if you eat what we United-States-ians would usually call a meal, and it’s without tortillas, you actually get to eat another meal (with tortillas, of course) because the first time around didn’t count. This is pretty awesome, although may bode ill for my health if I don’t play a ton of soccer…and number four…

4. Soccer is different. It’s like…eating a meal or walking to work. I’m used to “oh cool, yeah lets go play soccer!” Here it’s not really something to get stoked about. Not that people don’t love it…they really, really really love to play soccer…it’s simply a part of life. Just about everybody has a brother who’s played semi-pro, or plays semi-pro.

5. In the U.S. if we’re going to make a gesture to signify the person we’re talking about, we generally point with the hand or nod with the head. What’s the most common way to do this here? A kissing-like-gesture with the mouth. This one took a while to figure out.

6. They drink lots of fruit punch. It’s very delicious and very specific: apple and pineapple juice with a bit of sugar and cinnamon, only served hot and with little pieces of coconut floating in it.

7. Coffee’s like this: brewed light, heavily sugared and always with sweet bread to dip. Once in a blue moon somebody in a restaurant will order coffee with milk–beyond that, coffee with any sort of dairy product mixed in is purely out of the question.

8. There are tons of motorcycles. They all–
1. Look different
2. Have nearly the exact same Chinese chassis and engine

9. There’s more of life and death and heaven and hell than you can shake a stick at.

funny, stories

(from a few weeks ago)

Observation #1: when sleepy, it is very easy to misplace things and very hard to find them.

Observation #2: coffee helps this. It helps a lot.

…now I’m off to go slog around the office to find where I left my coffee mug.

This may take a while.

funny, other

shining brilliant awesome as always. From the back of one of Newman’s cartons…

LEGEND:

The marathon in Africa…I’m halfway out and barely chugging. Mountain coming! Liquid needed! What’s around? Water’s bitter! Beer’s flat! Gator, blah blah!…Fading fast. Then a vision – sweet Joanna! – Tempting me with pale gold nectar…Lemon is it? Yes, by golly! Lemonade? No, Lemon aid!… Power added! Asphalt churning!… Cruising home to victory! Hail Joanna! Filched the nectar (shameless hustler) – in the market – Newman’s Own.

From the back of a  Pink Virgin Lemonade carton, to be exact. Is that not shining brilliant awesome? I actually think, if I could be paid to do stuff like writing things like that, I would be down for a career in marketing..maybe. Maybe for little while.

funny, other

WE CAN CHANGE!

*ka-clink*……*ka-clink*..*ka-clink*

*whirrrrrrrrrrrr*

*ssshhhhHHHHHhhhckk* ( <– the sound of a vacuuming/sealing machine)

Ta-daaah!

We can change.

(we’ll bottle it too, if you want; just bring $3 for the deposit, glassware ain’t cheap)

funny, stories

(written June 2nd 2010)

So, I rode the motorcycle to school today; ah man, I love it. It was rainy out, but that didn’t matter. Just like lemonade is great because it’s both sugary and acidic, riding a motorcycle is great because of both the sunny and the rainy days.

That all isn’t too relevant, except for the rain part. It was rainy in the early afternoon today, when I rode to school.

I parked the bike in an alley by my favorite cafe and began to walk to class. I turned in my last homework earlier that morning and was walking to my last class…like…legit, last class here, now and at UW. This class has no final exam…only the aforementioned already-turned-in paper. So this is it. The feeling of walking to that class must be a tiny bit like what Usain Bolt felt as he celebrated his 100m Olympic smash-win before the race was even over. Well…ok, maybe it wasn’t that epic. But if felt kinda awesome.

What I’m trying to say is that I was very content while walking to class; I was taking it all in.

Any Husky knows the main walkway down the middle of the quad is not a level surface; after a few years one gets used to it and can take the depressions and rises in easy casual stride, without so much as a downward glance. I’m definitely all there.

I’m walking to class, through the quad; almost there. It was still raining, so I’d left my helmet on for the walk. It is a typical full face motorcycle helmet, DOT and Snell approved and all that jazz. A sizable and vented piece of it protects my chin and beard very well; this lower-face-protection also kills my lower peripheral vision, but that’s not an issue for riding, since one doesn’t spend too much time looking at the gas tank. For walking it also didn’t bother me, because I was content and looking all around and taking in the sights, sounds and smells (I had the visor up) of the quad. Then out of nowhere somehow this random dude and I made eye contact–he was sorta staring at me, while walking perpendicular, crossing my path 30 or 40 feet ahead. He grinned…I was a bit confused. He went back to walking on his way, but glanced back again at me, grinned a little bit, then went on his way. I now believe that, just before this eye contact, he actually looked somewhere I hadn’t, namely directly-in-front-of-me.

Just as he wiped that silly grin off his face I splooshed right into a gigantic puddle I didn’t see because of the great part of my helmet that protects my chin and beard, and because I was so contentedly looking everywhere but directly-in-front-of-me. As the rainwater washed over my shoe and soaked my sock, I thought quickly: I was on my pre-victory walk. It was OK. I confidently splooshed through the rest of the puddle.