Sunday, December 2, 2007

a little art gallery

I love the silhouette of the lady with her jaunty hat -- and her head is so perfectly contained in the sweep of the freeway. Love it. Of course, why she's hanging out under the freeway is beyond me, but I guess that's what you do when you're being pensive in the big city.

What a stylish couple! And again with the jaunty hat.... Y'know, I really wish the tobacco industry would come out with a non-carcinogenic cigarette, because if they did, I'd be the very first non-smoker to start swanning about town with a cigarette in a holder, smoke curling about me wherever I go.

I'm assuming that this guy immediately shaved his head afterwards. Dorkiness aside, this is a really fun, well-executed idea.

Believe it or not, I was once duct taped to a wall as well, back in my freshman sophomore year at Michigan. It was all my then-boyfriend's idea. O, the memories. He's now a physicist for the EPA and married, apparently.

Nice to see he's taking things well.

I was once hit by a wave a tenth of this size, and I nearly passed out and drowned. I really, really hope that this is Photoshopped, but it doesn't seem like it. Hoo boy.

I WANT THIS FENCE. NOW. Failing that, I'd like to be this fence. Thank you.

I love when make-up looks like candy. I wouldn't want to kiss that, but it sure looks nifty.

Braaaaaaaaaaains! The "Kids OK" part is magnificent.


  1. I also got taped down once.

    It was in October of 1999. I was able to drink much more back then (without the horrible allergic reactions I have now), and demonstrated my abilities each weekend.

    I usually drank half a bottle of rum. By the early morning, I'd be limping around, plastic bags around my shoes (I don't remember why I did it, but I remember loving the doing), wearing a brown turtleneck up top and a blue towel around my waste.

    One night, I had a bit more to drink than usual. I woke up at around 4:00 AM to find that the party had long since ended. I was in a common area lit by outdoor lights, and I could only see two things:

    1) Some light

    2) The ceiling

    I tried to sit up, but it totally didn't work out the way I'd hoped.

    Learned through exploration that I'd been taped down to a smallish circular table - my legs were over the edge, and propped up on a couple chairs so that my body was evenly laid out.

    Some of the clothes I had been wearing earlier weren't present. I had only my jeans on, but the button was undone and the fly unzipped. I actually thought that was pretty hot.

    My bottle of rum had been jammed into my right front pocket, sticking out all sorts of awkward.

    Whoever taped me down also place a flag between my legs so that it was looking very much like a thin, white, plastic phallus. I don't remember what flag was flying - it was one of those small triangular flags that I associate with sporting events (go team! go my team! woo!).

    I got a little wider awaker and then remembered some of what we'd been doing earlier, and that naturally raised the question:

    "Who took my gun?"

    A look around didn't answer the question, but I *did* find it - it was on an adjacent table, just out of reach. It was this little spring-loaded pistol BB-gun I bought on sale at a local department store. I used it to shoot people who thought it was acceptable to hang outside my room and talk all hours of the night. I only had to shoot a couple people to get the message across - the rest I shot because it was fun.

    My guess is that the gun had a lot to do with why they taped me down. One of my favorite fun times was to shoot people after I'd had a couple drinks. I'd tag 'em from about twenty feet down the hallway. It was great.

    Eventually, most of my dormies were conditioned - if people were foolish enough to congregate outside my door to guffaw at 2:00 AM on a school night, all I had to do was cock the thing from behind the door, and they'd scatter like cockroaches. It was simple *and* it saved ammo.

    I showed those bastards.

  2. Candidate for funniest misspello (that's the merger of misspelling and typo) of the year: "and a blue towel around my waste".

    Unless, of course, it actually was so; you carrying your feces around in a blue towel.

  3. Rory:

    I think you get the prize for 'Best Novelette Published in a Comments Forum.'

    "It was this little spring-loaded pistol BB-gun I bought on sale at a local department store. I used it to shoot people who thought it was acceptable to hang outside my room and talk all hours of the night."

    Wow, didn't your RA ever try to confiscate it? Also, that seems a tad extreme -- perhaps a water pistol might've done the trick, without the potential for permanent damage. You're a card, Rory. One might even say a loose cannon.

    Ghost Dog:

    Do you have a real name? Anyway, I agree with you about the whole "waist/waste" thing, but I was going to be all polite and stuff and not say anything. So it goes.

    I'm totally using the word "misspello" from now on.

  4. Quoth Juliet:
    What's in a name? That which we call a rose
    By any other name would smell as sweet.

    I'm afraid my sense of identity is very Web 0.8; I grew up on usenet and IRC. I am still coming to terms with this transparency thing. I even find the whole social networking issue a tad silly, especially the people who "just want to be themselves and contribute, share, give something back to the community" (you need to squint a bit as you're saying this, speak slowly, and put lots of emphasis on verbs and nouns alike).

    That said, there's no point in playing mascerade either.

    My real name is Einar. I have a daughter who's a member of the PGAF. Nice to meet you.

  5. Hi, Einar! When you say your daughter is a member of the PGAF, do you simply mean that her name is Astrid, or that she actually joined the PGAF prior to 2000, when the PGAF was unceremoniously terminated by UMichigan as soon as I graduated?

    Since "Einar" sounds terribly Scandinavian, I have to ask: where are you from? Are you currently residing in Scandinavian climes?

    Also: how old is your daughter? Is she old enough to appreciate PGAFs?

  6. "Wow, didn't your RA ever try to confiscate it?"

    She had a crush on me.

    Also, I think she was too scared.

    "Also, that seems a tad extreme -- perhaps a water pistol might've done the trick, without the potential for permanent damage."

    Those people were costing me my very much neededed education where obviously I neededed more bcuz i all spelled it "waste" but whoops ok.

    Seriously, it was perfectly safe as long as the person I was shooting didn't suddenly jump or twist or turn or stoop or otherwise move. I had a strict below-the-waste(ha ha)-only rule.

    I enforced it on my own with out an external authority because that's the kind of integrity I have.

    "You're a card, Rory. One might even say a loose cannon."

    The gun was only fifteen bucks.

    The cannon wasn't on sale.

    Plus, kind of like the way HP makes money from the ink and toner instead of the printers, cannon makers rake it in with the balls. Cannon ammo is too expensive for the casual user.

  7. You don't really get this "anonymous comment" thing, do you?

    But yes, I am Scandinavian. To be more precise, I am one of approximately 13000 Norwegian men that go by the name of Einar.

    Unfortunately, I belong to a dying breed, see

    I am currently in exile in the state of New Jersey.

    My daughter is a member of the PGAF by virtue of her name alone. She will be two years old in January.

    How did you stumble upon the name of Astrid? Do you have Scandinavian ancestors, perchance?