Well, as some of ya might know, I’ve had some shit happen and made some decisions. I’m hitting the fucking reset button and heading to Fallon, Nevada. And such a big change deserves a big shiny new blog. Thus Foxtrot Unicorn Charlie Kilo was born. Check it on out.
The Mailbox Story April 16, 2009
So I’m posting this story at the urging of Pi and Krythe. They seem to believe that you people out there in blog land would like to hear some of my old exploits. But before I really begin, I need to add a bit of a disclaimer:
This story is not true. Cannot be true, because some of the things are quite illegal. And being the law-abiding people that we are, we don’t ever do illegal things.Yup, just us law-abiding citizens here.
So it was just 2 am, and (As those of you who are HIMYM know) nothing good ever happens after 2 am. Me and Johan were sitting in his living room watching tv, bored out of out skulls and trying to figure out what we should do, if anything. Suddenly he decides that we should hop in his truck and go see what Blondie is up to, so that is exactly what we do. Turns out that Blondie is asleep, but it only takes us about 5 minutes of cajoling for us to convince him to come join us anyway.
Its a little fuzzy now, but I believe our plan at that time was to go about doing some simple and innocent mischief, kicking lightposts to turn them off and what-not. But as we picked Blondie up from his house, Johann points out his neighbors tree. Appearently they had tried this before, because Johan explains to me that the fuzz off this palmish looking tree is about the most flammable thing he’s ever seen. Now this sets my pyromanic mind a-workin’. Why just kick some stupid lightposts when we could just set some shit on fire? Johan readily agrees with me, so when Blondie finally comes downstairs we go about raiding his garage.
Turns out his garage is a pyro’s dream, we make off with:
- 1 gallon of gasoline
- 3 cans of flammable bug spray
- 1 can of lantern fuel
- 4 barbeque lighters
- 3 bics
- 6 or 7 handfuls of the palm fuzz
- 4 largish fronds from the tree.
So that was our inventory for our night of mischief. I set a few pieces of the fuzz on fire before we left, just to see of Johan was right. And he was, oh boy he was. Stuff caught quick and burned for awhile, my pyro brain was aflame with ideas. We all pile back into the truck and start cruising around, racking our brains for ideas on what to burn. Now I’m still not sure exactly who came up with it, but somebody mentions the idea of setting a mailbox on fire. We all immediately agree that this would be completely epic and set about finding us a mailbox.
We pretty quickly decide to head to the old, poor part of Pecan Grove where all the trailer homes are. We also pretty quickly decide that we really can’t light it up where it stands, since we really don’t want a load of birdshot in our asses (since everyone who lives up there has a shotgun, don’tcha know). So our grand scheme becomes to -steal- a mailbox and then light it on fire. After a few minutes of searching we find a likely looking candidate, a pair of mailboxes side-by-side on a mostly deserted road. We all hop out of the cab and start pushing and pulling on the mailbox, trying to loosen it up enough.
About 5 minutes pass and we still don’t have this bitch out of the ground, doesn’t even look like we’re weakening its hold on it. We pretty much decide to say fuck it and me and Blondie hop in the cab. Johan is having none of this, refusing to be beay by an inanimate object. He rears back his leg and sideways kicks the mailbox, which decides its had quite enough of that and finally falls the fuck over.
Me and Blondie pause and look at each other, then at Johan who is looking back at us rather quick. The moment is broken when Blondie finally yells “Well shit… lets grab it quick!” So me and him pile back out of the cab, all three of us grabbing the mailbox and tossing it back in the bed before piling back into the cab. Johan starts the car and goes to put it in drive, foot going for the pedal as Bondie yells out again.
“Wait! The mail!”
So we all rush back out of the cab, pulling the rather large wad of mail out of the box and shoving it in the one thats still standing. We quickly hop back into the cab and roar off, laughing like fools. I still don’t know why neither me nor Johan questioned his insistance why we had to save the mail when we had just stolen a mailbox, but we didn’t. So down we race towards the better part of the Grove, debating where we should light this bitch up. Suddenly me and Johan get the same idea at the same time, we should head to the abadoned field behind the elementry school.
We do a bit of off-roading and make it to this wooden bridge connecting the two fields, pulling through and turning around so that we can get some light from the highbeams. It didn’t occur to us until much later that perhaps setting a fire on a -wooden- bridge that we need to be able to cross to leave. Real smart planning. So anyway, we set up the mailbox on the bridge, loading the metal box itself with palm fuzz, a few fronds and the entire can of lantern fuel. Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun. We can’t decide who gets to light it up, so we settle on all of us. At once. With makeshift flamethrowers.
We each grab one of the bics and cans of bug spray, get ourselves set up around it and set it off. And oh children, it is -glorious-. The stuff goes up with a fwoosh, our grins lit up in the glow. We sit there and stare for a few moments, completely enthralled before we finally realize the issue with our current situation, being on a wooden bridge with a furiously flaming mailbox. Me and Johan each take a grip on the wooden post, and start an ‘On three’ count to toss it into the stream below.
Now…. he swears I did it on purpose, and I honestly don’t remember if I did or not, but I was slighty off on the count. So Johan, who was in front of my on the post, reaches the count of 2 as I reach 3 and shove forward. He still has a rather firm grip on the flaming mailbox, which is now on a rather fast trajectory for the stream below. He, unfortunately, has quick enough reactions to let go, but he’s still teetering on the edge, arms twirling. My hand is about 3 inches from his back, and my brain freezes, caught in a loop as it tries to decide to push or pull.
Johan decides it for me as he finally catches his balance and turns around to face my sheepish grin as I tuck my hand back behind my back with a shrug. We take one last look at the sinking mailbox before heading back to the truck and firing it up. Now, I know you’re all thinking this heres the end of our story, but I am sad to say that we were not done yet. No sir, not by a long shot.
So we spend another hour or so driving around Pecan Grove doing random acts of mischief, including but not limited to me and Johan spending a good 10 minutes trying to convince Blondie to take a dump on the hood of a white sports car. He had his pants at half-mast and was about ready to do it, but we couldn’t quite convince him to go for it, so we head to the gas station instead.
About this time is when we decide to use the rest of our flamable material to light a swing on fire. I had seen it done once before, and the pattern the heavy plastic makes as it melts is quite impressive. So we head over to New Territory park and decide to leave the truck in the lot. As we get out to gather the gascan we decide its a bad idea to walk around just carrying it, so we transfer the almost full gallon to the huge empty cup from the gas station and start walking through the park.
We somehow decide to forget about swing and just set the cup on the rock in the middle of the tony little stream. Me and Johan get out our trusty flamethrowers and light it up. The plastic cup burns down to about the level of the gas and then stops as the gas slowly burns off. Now Johan and Blondie seem pretty content with this, but I’m a much more experianced pyro, and a tiny little flame like that isn’t really cutting it. So I walk over to the garbage can and pick up the lid, taking careful aim from behind Johan and Bondie.
I let fly and nail the cup dead on, sending it spilling over into the stream. The fire reacts as you pyro’s out there know it would, immediately flamming up. Johan and Blondie scream in surprise and start running for the car, and I follow along, laughing and wheezing much to much to actually run. I get a about halfway there and look over my children and holy shit people. The flames are, I kid you not, 1o feet high and and 5 feet across, slowly spreading across the water and floating downstream. I resume my laughing stumble towards the car as both Johan and Blondie yell at me to hurry the fuck up. I finally make it and turn back to see the fire still spreading downstream, to big to actually tell how big. We all pile into the truck and speed away for the last time, me and Blondie laughing our asses off and Johan semi-freaking out as we look for cops.
They drop me back off at my car and Johan goes to take Blondie home. I decide to drive back by the park, just to see if it got reported and if we did any actual damage. I was pretty sure we didn’t, since the ground was wet we had done it away from any flamable structures. And low and behold, when I drive by it looks the same as itt always done. No flames, no charred buildings, no cops and no firetruck.
And truth be told, in hindsight, I’m completely happy that nothing really happened in response. We were young and dumb and not thinking about the consequences, and prolly would have hated ourselves if anything happened.
So there ya go people, now ya can see first hand that its true: Nothing good ever happens after 2 am.
Hell for the Company March 26, 2009
Mark Twain once said “Go to Heaven for the climate, and Hell for the company.” Well if I could be guaranteed the people I hung out with this week would be there, I’d go damn near anywhere for their company. It was one of those weeks that just seems to contain just about damn near everything. Hell, I would almost say that I lived an entire life in one week, or at least got a snapshot of a life. I’d love to go completely in depth here, but it would end up being even longer than my last post. So I’m going to try to give ya’ll a good idea of it anyway.
This week I drove almost 1300 miles. I rediscovered back-roads I forgot existed. I got lost and didn’t care, just let my tires roll on over blacktop I had never seen before. I visited big cities and small towns. I drove through cities like Dallas and Fort Worth. I cruised through Normangee, Jewett, Mexia and Blooming Garden. I stopped for food in Waxahachie and North Zulch. I drove through towns that were nothing more than a city limit sign, towns like Flynn, Purdon, Farrar and Mecca. I stopped at a tiny gas station in Tehuacana, only to discover that the line for the bathroom was no less than 15 people long. I rolled down my windows and cranked up some classic rock. I blasted such eclectic music as Ludo, Flogging Molly, Futuristic Sex Robotz, Stephen Lynch, Credence Clearwater Revival, Johnny Cash and The Bloodhound Gang.
I met and hung out with more people than I can count. I’ve met people I’d never met before, yet feel like I have known forever. I spent time with old comfortable friends and time with completely new ones. I dined with my Uncle, glad to finally get to see him again. I found people I feel like I could chat with forever and never get bored, friends I hope I have for the rest of my life.
I discussed a huge variety of topics, from all points of interest. I talked about roller coasters, history, video games and the different hierarchies of geeks. I discussed sex of all sorts: BDSM, orgies, oral, anal, wax, the pleasure of pain, cup sizes, deep throating, bad blowjobs, good blowjobs, leather, furries, frequency, porn and power bottoms. I talked about the meanings of L33t speak and IM speak for the future of the English language. I gabbed on about people and relationships, love and hate, and the best time period to live in. I mostly listened about sex toys and the best business plan to sell them, signed or otherwise. I talked about drawls and how I have one, even though I really can’t hear it.
I played cards: Gin, Cutthroat, 99, 31, the 4-card game and Poker (Both 5-card draw and Mexican style). I got absolutely wasted, making a complete fool of myself and not caring one whit. I had good sex and bad sex. I got into a fight and put a big hole in a wall. I got hit on more by one guy then I think I’ve ever been hit on by anyone. I attempted to go to the rodeo, only to get screwed by Houston traffic and decide to say fuck it and see Watchman instead. I clumsied it up and knocked over an entire bucket of popcorn. I laughed so hard my sides hurt, so hard I cried. I completely passed out still wearing my clothes. I played an amazing Steampunk tabletop game designed by Krythe. I sat on a balcony around a couple of candles, pretending it was a campfire on a beach somewhere. I learned some new phrases, including “3 knuckle shuffle,” “cookie party,” and a new meaning for “chasing tail.”
I felt pissed off, angry, furious and a little disappointed. I felt the sweet sting of cooling wax on my skin. I felt loved, lust, love, arousal and chemistry. I felt an unexpected hand on my ass, and an unexpecting ass under my hand. I felt cold as shit, perfectly wonderful and burning up. I felt like I was going to blow the contents of my stomach everywhere. I felt completely exhausted, way too hyper and perfectly rested. I felt bored, entertained and absolutely content with silence.
While I look back on it I know there are things that didn’t go well, moments were I was unhappy or pissed. But I’m having trouble focusing on those or really even caring. All those other amazing moments drown them out and make them seem much less important. I’m sure there’s a meaning there somewhere, but I’m not gonna draw it. I’ll leave that up to ya’ll. So now I’m back off to work, to see if I can gather up enough work hours for karma to toss me another play week like this one.
Why I Don’t Trust PayPal or iTunes (Anymore) March 16, 2009
On March 5th, I received four rather alarming e-mails. They were receipts from the iTunes store from earlier that day at a point in time during which I was in bed and asleep. These purchases totaled $500 worth of gift cards, which upon viewing in the iTunes Store history all seemed to have a message along the lines of, “Andrew, for me, Andrew.”
By now, I’m freaking out, because I don’t even have $500 in my bank account at this point in time. I immediately go to PayPal and file a report to them that I’ve had four unapproved charges to my account that I would like to dispute, as well as change my passwords and security questions on both iTunes and PayPal. Next, I run virus scans and clear browser history on every computer I own, plus my iPhone to check for spyware and such (resulting in no spyware per say, but some apparently interesting cookies). Because the charges were made early enough in the day and were marked for immediate withdrawal on PayPal, I assumed that when my bank account still hadn’t taken a hit that PayPal was starting to do something about it, so foolishly I didn’t call my bank and tell them what’s going on yet.
On March 6th, I check my bank account balance. -$260. Ohhh craaap. First things first, I transfer enough money from my savings to cover the negative balance in my checking (I now have some change in my checking, and a few bucks in my savings). I shoot an e-mail to iTunes telling them what’s up and ask what I should do and how they can help me, and then I call my bank’s fraud department, who tells me I should wait until after PayPal investigates the case, and if PayPal doesn’t refund my money, I should call them back (something about lots of paperwork being involved and it being easier to see if PayPal fixes it first).
On March 7th, I get an e-mail back from iTunes. What follows is the relevant information, plus they said the obvious: change your account password and security questions.
I urge you to contact your financial institution as soon as possible to inquire about canceling the card or account and removing the unauthorized transactions. You should also ask them to launch an investigation into the security of your account. Your bank or credit card company’s fraud department should then contact the iTunes Store to resolve this issue. The iTunes Store cannot reverse the charges.
Right. This e-mail, plus a blog post by Chris Pirillo that I read while searching for information about my situation on Google made me think that filing claims with PayPal was pretty much NOT the way to go if you ever wanted a chance of getting your money back, though at the request of my bank, I waited to hear back from PayPal before calling them again.
On March 12th at 4:42 am, I received an e-mail from PayPal which said the following:
We have completed our investigation of your claim and have determined that
this is not an instance of unauthorized account activity. At this time,
your claim has been denied.
Okay, freeze. Let’s think logically for a second and look at what PayPal and iTunes are claiming I did.
-
They assume I purchased FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS worth of gift cards in FOUR SEPARATE TRANSACTIONS. The $500 worth of gift cards doesn’t really seem like something someone would do, but for the sake of the argument, lets assume people do that all the time, and do it in four separate transactions to be sent to (what I’m assuming) was the same e-mail address.
Factoid: When looking at your purchase history, you can’t see the e-mail address that the gift card redemption link was delivered too.
-
The content of the “to, from, and message” fields on the gift card’s picture imply that not only did I purchase $500 worth of gift cards on iTunes, but I sent them to MYSELF.
Factoid: as this Washington Post article states in an update, since the beginning of March 2009, “the [Internet Crime Complaint Center] has received a total of nine complaints about credit card fraud related to unauthorized purchases on iTunes” for charges as much as $1,600.
-
Finally, PayPal and iTunes assume that I reported my own transactions as fraudulent no less than 5 hours after I made the purchases, including many e-mails and even a couple phone calls to PayPal to make sure the fraudulent charge claims went through.
Factoid: The Watchmen is a fantastic movie, and I think it’s a shame if you haven’t seen it (I ran out of related facts).
So here we are. It’s March 12th, and I have just woken up to some bad news, which only gets worse when I look at my bank account, and despite the fact that I put money in the account the same day it dropped into the red via an IMMEDIATE online transfer, I have overdraft fees (putting it firmly BACK in the red). My parents, worried about me and my utter lack of money, write my a check for $400, which I take to the bank and ask to talk to someone about what I can do.
The people at my bank are very nice. I showed up about the same time they were going to have the lobby closed, and despite the long line to talk to a customer service representative, they let me in and even offered me candy and coffee. When my turn came to talk to someone, I explained to them my situation, and they gave me a phone number to call. They also told me that despite my negative account balance, the fact that I needed money to buy food and pay utilities meant that I would be much better off going to my parent’s bank and cashing the check (the check funds would have been put on hold for what she said could be up to two weeks).
Now here I am. It’s 7am on March 16th, I’ve got a bit of cash on hand, and my bank’s fraud department has what they called, “a large stack of papers” in the mail for me to fill out, sign, and return in order to take some sort of legal action (I think) to get back my money.
If I learned anything from this ordeal, it’s this:
- If at ALL possible, avoid using PayPal. They have horrendous customer service, and will do anything to place the blame on someone else.
- If you’re going to make online purchases (something I do A LOT), credit card gift cards from grocery stores are the safest way to go, and some banks even offer features like a separate account thingy for online transactions that you can set up with purchase limits, time frames, and even a disposable account number.
- Don’t make online purchases just to skip out on sales tax. That sales tax going to your local government helps pay for roads, parks, and lots of other things that communities need to thrive.
- Finally, if there’s a local music store nearby, don’t be too lazy to go there to get your music. The best thing you can do for the economy in times like these is buy local and support small businesses.
Thank you all for your moral (and financial) support while I try to get through this mess. I couldn’t do it without you guys.
**EDIT**
After filling out the large stack of papers from my bank and faxing them in, the money was returned to my account and I soon got a letter from them telling me what they had repaid me. I also tried to update applications on my iPhone, which gave the message that my account had been disabled, but a quick email to iTunes customer support explaining what had happened got me access to my account again within 24 hours.
One of Those Nights March 15, 2009
“We’re gonna do something, somewhere. You in?”
“Any clue as to what it’ll be?”
“Not one, but its gonna be awesome. ”
“Well then…. Hell yeah we’re in.”
And that is just about, word for word, the way my night started.
At this point SirDave interjects that we should head to The Hobbit Cafe, because there’s a waitress there he wants to practice his flirtations on. So now we get to play the “Pass the Phone for Directions” game. After roughly 4 minutes and 8 passes, we finally have everything set with Goose and Berry, who are going to attempt to find their way there. The 4 of us troop downstairs and after a brief shouted discussion across the parking lot, decide that we should all hop into SirDave’s open top Jeep to make the journey.
At this point I’d like to point out that it is a thoroughly miserable week for March in Houston. Drizzly and about 40 degrees. So our decision ranks pretty far down on the “stupid fucking choices” scale. I manage to finagle my way into the mostly protected front seat, leaving Piyoucaneat and Krythe to ride in the back. Me and SirDave spend most of the trip alternating jokes about how we’re going to fuck with the waiter at the vegetarian cafe (veal was mentioned several times) and jokes at Krythe’s expense (Who was looking truly miserable in the elementally exposed backseat).
Unfortunately, when we arrive at the Hobbit, we discover we won’t even get a chance to disgust a few vegans, as the cafe closes at a saddening 10:30. So we hop back in the Jeepmobile (Krythe riding shotgun this time, as I felt sorry for him) and take off, deciding on the way to head to Agora. We ring up Goose and Berry, once again playing “Pass the Phone” only this time traveling about 40mph in an open jeep. We somehow get everything set in only 4 passes and we’re off to the coffeehouse, me and Pi freezing our nuts off in the back.
We park on the street, as anyone will tell you that you must for Agora, and start to walk off. Right about there is where the Jeep starts to roll backwards, which prompts SirDave to dash over for the parking brake while the rest of us point and laugh. After the Jeepmobile is firmly nestled against the curb, we walk on over to the coffeehouse and it is paaaacked. I’m talking the condom aisle the day before prom packed. We manage to squeeze our way into the house and start to stand in what we assume is the line to order something. We soon begin to realize that there is not a single free table anywhere in the entire place. And this is about the point where we also realize that we are not drunk, trendy, or patient enough to stand around and drink coffee, so we begin to push our way back outside, finally running into Goose and Berry and dragging them along.
There is a brief discussion about where we want to head to, before SirDave proclaims that he has to have a cup of joe, so Katz’s is quickly decided upon. Now that we have two forms of vehicular transportation we decide to load up Goose’s car, since it has the distinct advantage of windows and a roof. I really don’t want to make SirDave ride all by his lonesome, so I head with him back to the Jeepmobile and we vamoose off down Westheimer. We arrive to find everyone else waiting for us, and luckily get called for our table pretty much as we get there. We head upstairs and are immediately glad that we decided to head here instead of Agora, since we can actually sit the fuck down.
We end up with the same waitress as we’ve had on multiple occasions, Rebecca, and SirDave immediately proceeds with his flirtations. And almost immediately afterward realizes he’s not gonna get anywhere and shuts it on up and decides to just order. We end up with a smattering of water and coffee orders, as well as a jack and coke for SirDave (Who never actually got any coffee, despite his previous demand for one). Our actual food orders end up being much more eclectic, totaling a bagel, a plate of fried pickles, potato skins and a #4 for Goose. He placed his food firmly in the hands of Rebecca, not even looking at the menu as he said “I’ll have exactly what you would have, right now.” He ended up with a fairly delicious Scottish Smoked Salmon Sandwich, so it ended up thoroughly in his favor.
All of the food ended up being absolutely spectacular, as per usual at Katz’s, which I would recommend to anyone looking for a late night bite to eat. The conversation also started out fairly well, with the revelation of Berry’s cup size (which is 34C for anyone who’s interested). We moved from there into fairly standard fare for our crowd, which meant getting strange looks as SirDave and Goose busted into a rendition of “Danger Zone.” A lot of across the table text messaging was happening, which lead to me pointing out the Krythe was getting left out of it, which then led to him getting 5 text messages in about 4 seconds. Pi pointed out that one of the waiter’s looked like, “The 70’s” and the table unanimously agreed, segueing into a discussion about which decade you would most like to live in (1920’s winning with two votes from Pi and Krythe). SirDave’s answer only served to amuse and confuse the rest of us, as his choice (The 1670’s) was soon pointed out to contain nothing more than the plague. The fried pickles brought to mind the fried vegetables at the Ausländer Biergarten in Fredricksburg and the fact that deep frying vegetables removes any actual bonus from eating vegetables. Pi then shared with the group that he had so much caffeine from the 5 cups of dark coffee and previously downed energy drinks that everything was starting to seem slowed down compared to him.
The time for dessert rolled around and we ended up with an extra 7 layer chocolate cake, as Goose had jokingly asked the waitress what she would get for dessert, and she took it to mean bring him one. So we ended up completely switching around seats so that me and Goose could devour one cake, while Berry demolished the one she had actually ordered. SirDave ordered what he claimed was a waffle, but looked much more like a mountain of whipped cream and strawberries. Somehow me and Goose decided it was a good idea to each take a humongous bite of cake and see if we could swallow it down with only 5 chews. He went first, using all 5 chews and swallowing it in a pathetic 6 different small swallows. I then had to show him why you shouldn’t get into any sort of eating contest with a fat-ass, downing mine in 3 chews and one big swallow. Soon afterward I make the mistake of pointing out the fact that my leg was actually shaking from the amount of caffeine I had consumed, which Goose apparently heard as “Punch my leg to make it stop shaking.” Which he did. With gusto.
So we finally decide we’ve subjected the other patrons to more than enough swearing and rambunctious laughter and head downstairs to our cars. We say goodbyes to Goose and Berry and the 4 of us remaining pile back into the Jeepmobile, Pi finally getting his turn to ride shotgun. After we begin moving, SirDave decides it would be hilarious to hit every pothole he can find, just to fuck with us in the back. This leads to an unfortunate event I am forced to call ‘Turtling,” but little did I know that it was about to be stricken from my mind. See, SirDave finally enlightens us with his plan to take 59 and 610 to get back home, which means we’re going to be traveling at roughly 80 miles an hour. In a Jeep. In 40 degree weather. Needless to say, me and Krythe are less than pleased. I am wearing what could at best be described as a light jacket, with more than a few holes burned in the sleeve (A story for another time).
Me and Krythe’s antics have Pi and SirDave rolling with laughter the entire way home. These antics include screaming like little girls, saying we’re getting frostbite, zipping myself completely inside my jacket, and assaulting Pi when he suggested doing a full loop around 610. The bastard. Well, we make back to the apartment without either of us being turned into human popsicles, which everyone is fairly glad about. We then decide to play a quick game of Settler’s of Catan, which we then turn into a drinking game by stating that everytime a 7 is rolled the rollee has to take a drink. This sadly did not end up with anyone getting buzzed except Pi, who had the misfortune of rolling 8 7’s and taking 3 shots because he didn’t want to discard any of his cards. SirDave ended up winning handily, and we finally decided to call it a night.
So there was our Saturday night, how was yours?
Brewing the Good Stuff March 14, 2009
So Piyoucaneat and I are in the midst of brewing some dark scotch-ale. I’ve documented the whole process with photos, however, I’ve been having some problems with Flickr so I’ll do a full post when the pics are ready.
Here are a couple to whet your appetite:
Pi Day Pancakes (Why Teachers Shouldn’t Drink) March 14, 2009
After a long hard night of grocery shopping, Dollhouse watching, and beer brewing, Krythe and I returned to the apartment. Around 1:00 am, Krythe recalled that it was now officially Pi Day, and we decided to go to House of Pies at 3:14 am to celebrate with pancakes, coffee, and most importantly of all, pie.
When we got there, the place was packed. It was probably the busiest I’ve ever seen a restaurant at three in the morning, and it was pretty diverse, too. Cops and stoners, cowboys and urbanites, teachers and students. Pi day couldn’t be THAT popular, could it? Probably not. The clubs just closed, the drunks were done driving, those 3:00 am munchies were hitting, and the rodeo was in town.
After a minute or two, we got a table in the smaller side room near what turned out to not be a pretty average group of five (the outspoken Mac geek, the socially irrepressible and obnoxious guy, the tell-it-like-it-is blonde, the possibly drunk flirtatious extrovert, and of course, the token black man). When we first sat down, they were talking about something I can’t recall, other than that I wouldn’t repeat it if I remembered.
They were fairly entertaining, and so Krythe and I didn’t really talk much for a while, aside from ordering pancakes, drinks, and pie. That’s when it happened. I accidentally made eye contact with the obnoxious one, and he drug is in in that awkward way that loud obnoxious strangers do when they notice you paying attention to them.
Now the flirtatious extrovert turns around and starts talking to us, even though the Mac geek doesn’t seem too happy about it. Mostly harmless stuff, like what we do, where we go to school. She starts laughing in an “oh crap” kind of way. She teaches at one of the local colleges. Interesting. She asks me what I want to do when I “grow up” and I mention that I’m interested in wine making and beer brewing. Something about Saint Arnold’s brewery comes up, and then she asks the question of the night: how old are you?
Now she’s embarrassed. After turning red and turning around, the group starts talking about me and how I’m like, “14 years old” (which isn’t true for those who don’t know me). Krythe and I eat our food, and I ignore requests from the obnoxious guy to, “whip it out so we can measure it”, because apparently if it’s big and I’m young it shouldn’t matter.
As the group is leaving, the flirtatious extrovert turns around again, looks at Krythe, and says, “make him grow up!” before grabbing onto the unhappy looking Mac geek and walking out the door. We soon got our pies, took one bite each, and admitted defeat at the hands of our food.
As we left the still packed bubble of diversity, I wondered to myself if the flirtatious extrovert would wake up in the morning and think, “oh, crap, what did I do last night”, or would she remember that young guy she mistakenly hit on? Could it ever be – a teacher and me? Extremely unlikely.
Too bad. She was cute.
Attack of the Cardboard Dinosaur March 13, 2009
Some of you may be wondering why I built a dinosaur out of cardboard. For those of you willing to just accept it for what it is, I thank you. The rest of you will probably never see the fun in it, and I’m sorry.
The first time I saw a cardboard dinosaur, I knew I would build one on my own some day. I don’t remember the name of the guy who did it, but it was built at an event called First Night Pikes Peak in Colorado Springs some time between 1998 and 2000. I don’t have any pictures of his, but I can assure you it was more impressive than mine, towering inside one of the downtown YMCA’s gyms.
The method for building this beast is quite simple, and I may have over done it a bit with the PVC pipe and duct tape (though to get it to stand up if it’s floppy, it is necessary to use some sort of stabilizing device, like hanging it from the ceiling). Because the PVC pipe “base skeleton” was all built with trial and error, and there’s no real right way to support it, I’m not including that in the instructions.
Andrew’s Five Steps to Dinosaur Building
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Buy a small wooden skeleton set that you would like to make life size or larger.
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Go dumpster diving for large sheets of cardboard. Or if you don’t feel comfortable swimming in trash on a hot summer day, you could try asking stores that sell refrigerators and other large objects for boxes, or even looking for free boxes on the free section of craigslist.
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Acquire an overhead projector, or build something similar. I got lucky because my mom is a teacher, and the principal said we could borrow it for the afternoon.
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Once you’ve marked where your projector is placed to prevent movement and scale changes, attach your cardboard to the wall, project your pieces onto it, and trace their shadows with markers. Also, find some way to label your pieces, because I forgot to, and I don’t think the ribs and vertebrae made it to their proper places.
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Cut them out and assemble! Note that cutting shapes out of cardboard with a box cutter isn’t fun, so if you have a skill saw or something, this is a good time to get it out (and maybe even build the dinosaur out of wood)!
Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of a giant cardboard dinosaur. It’s up to you to decide how best to put it to use. Mine made stops at a few parties as a decoration before it went to the warehouse in the office I work at. If you build your own, I’d like to hear about it. Also, I’m not responsible if you injure yourself somehow in the process of cutting cardboard or jumping into dumpsters. Thanks.
