Extremely Loud and Too Close

Have you ever had one of those friends you wonder how exactly you end up hanging out with them because you don't really like them and yet you enjoy hanging out with them because they're totally insane?

This is essentially how my acquaintanceship/ friendship with [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] works. He awkwards me out, he makes an average situation suddenly far more complicated than it needs to be, and you can't walk down the street without him talking to random passerbys. However, he has fantastic stories about drunkenly driving golf carts into ponds and getting multiple DWIs. I'm not saying he's a good, safe person to be around. But he is... interesting.

A few weeks before school got out, I went to an Eric Hutchinson concert at First Avenue with [save the panzer], his brother, another friend, and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying]. After the phenomenal show, they decided to get food at a nearby Rainbow store. One of the automatic doors wasn't working and [slightly pansexual, mostly annoying] ran into it. He confusedly followed us into through the exit. He then loudly shouted to the store employees whether the store was open, since the entrance doors were locked. They responded that they were in fact open (which was assumable, as we were standing in the store now) and we slowly gathered our food items.

Now, apparently upon entering the store, one of my classmates was at the checkout and I must have looked right at her. I didn't see her, as I was trying not to die of embarrassment. A week or two later, she asked me if I'd been at that Rainbow lately. At first I was confused and realized what she must have been talking about. "Wait, was I with a really loud guy?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied, "he seemed really drunk." "Oh, he wasn't drunk. He hadn't even had anything to drink yet. You should see him when he's drunk," I assured her astonished expression.

And trust me, I have seen him drunk. This guy is the sort who makes vodka and juice concoctions with so much more vodka than juice the ice cubes go glassy and clear. He was pretty wasted on [save the panzer]'s birthday. So much so that he started humping a vace-shaped sculpture on Nicollet Mall. So, sorry, people of Minneapolis, if this man has been responsible for making your average night strange and uncomfortable. I am not responsible - he is a fully grown man who is entirely capable of following his own guidance. And it is a free country. Why he continues to hang out with younger people, I don't know. I actually don't know how old he is; he jokingly told the cab driver on [save the panzer]'s birthday that he was 45. His age and/or birth year are not on Facebook so doing the math to figure it out is no good. Doesn't matter. He could be from the 51st century for all I know.

That would be rather awkward.

Much like this photo.

Yeah, that pretty much says it all. Me laughing and crying at the same time. Accurate.

Google is intent on turning me into a creep, or: Ooh boy... this is worse than I thought...

Apparently if you Google "Benedict Cumberbatch about future wife" this blog is a possible result (thank you, Stats info on Blogger, for showing me search results that led to my blog and thus leading to this awkward realization).

I'm not exactly sure how to feel about this... Confused? Slightly flattered? Disturbed? (Oh yeah, definitely disturbed). And yet...

http://northphoenixagent.files.wordpress.com/2007/10/shocked-face-of-little-girl.jpg

http://www.rateyourburn.com/blog/Uploads/awkward-face.png

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtM0cZ9cZcLE8Jw5UUh3Znan8vGSoUe7vXwdyCr9tO4GOQVqwe2KE5yWeE9c6KBSxsS_i2Vn4GqwzghHa6a4FrK1YXwzklqd8mCjNxxCUw5jBskTyvrf7kJs-Qp7DNGUX173AOwtXakj8/s1600/Goofy+smile.jpg

Yeah... that pretty much sums it up. Except for Brad Pitt's bloody nose; actually, the bloody nose is possibly accurate (considering I feel like punching myself in the face. How did I let my fangirling come to this? How? HOW? I'M NOT EVEN THAT MUCH OF A FANGIRL! THE POST IT LINKS TO IS HARDLY EVEN RELEVANT! I HAVE GOT TO STOP EXPRESSING MY INTENSE EMOTIONS THROUGH THE POWER OF CAPS LOCKS!)

I apologize for the weirdness. It's a Tuesday; what can I say?

http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lj6tjhd41d1qcr8tuo1_r4_500.gif

Only in Minnesota

http://www.inquisitr.com/wp-content/2012/02/Zamboni-Machine1.jpg

I saw this article some time ago on Star Tribune and I felt the urge to share it because... well, this sort of thing probably wouldn't happen in other parts of the United States:

Apple Valley Zamboni driver tested at 0.32 alcohol level

Oh, Minnesota... just oh.

Punk'd

It's not even April Fools and already I think [Львица] and I have already encountered our first practical joke of the season.

I had just come back to the apartment on Tuesday after class to make lunch and to finish up a paper I had to write when someone knocked on the door. I opened it find our tenant from 304 (who we've not exactly had the easiest time with) looking very upset. She then proceeded to explain to me that she had been gone over spring break and, after she'd returned, noticed that these pod-like things that she thought might be insects had appeared on the walls of her kitchen-dining room area. I decided to to take a look.

I had never seen anything like it in my life. Now, to frame this properly, it's been very warm in Minnesota, very very warm for March and I thought it very likely that something odd could have occurred given the sudden warm spell and that some creature could have found its way out of the walls. Upon examining them in the kitchen, which 304 had sealed off, afraid that some insects would escape and get all over her apartment, the only thing I could compare them to in my mind were prune-like growths sticking horizontally off of the wall. It seemed one was attached to a nail but I didn't think much of it at the time. I told 304 I'd Google search it and I'd get back to her.

They weren't beetle lava, they weren't chrysalis, they weren't spider egg sacs or fungi or anything that Google could even identify. Other than prunes. I told [Львица] about it and, later that evening when 304 wasn't there, we returned to examine them ourselves with a more perceptive eye. Gingerly, [Львица] pried one off the wall, a plastic bag over her hand, and we found it was also on a nail. We removed eight of these things, all of them on nails, and took them in a bag into our apartment.

The "pods" on the wall, as taken by [Львица]

My hand holding up a small key to compare size to the "pod"

We began really seriously wondering if the "pods" were large raisins or some kind of prune. It's what they looked like most and some were even kind of greenish, like dried raisins sometimes are. So, after I failed to find any way of scientifically testing them in our kitchen, we sliced one open, looked at it, sniffed it, and decided that it must be a raisin (or some unknown alien life form; highly unlikely at this point). Knowing 304 has a friend in the building, we wondered if it was a practical joke (as 304 told me she is dreadfully terrified of insects. And that she'd asked her friend from apartment 2 i for our phone numbers (as she'd lost her phone earlier in the semester and apparently didn't have either building manager's number re-added) but her friend had never gotten back to her).

What do I think? I'm not detective (as much as I wish I was) but I presume that 2 did this as a practical joke and 304 really flipped out and got us involved. But we haven't heard back from 304. Guess we'll just have to wait and see if those "pods" reappear.

Seriously, people. This was half of my Tuesday. I have the weirdest job in the world.

Revealing [La Maga]

So, if you regularly read my blog (which I don't think anyone does, but if you do, I owe you a coffee and infinite adoration) you'll notice I'm no longer [Nazi Vampire Hunter]. I'm now [La Maga]. Of course, none of this really matters because I still identify myself by my first name. But it does matter... oh, yes it does. Because defining one's identity in words is fun and cool and hard to do but I'm driven to do it anyway because I'M A WRITER AND GODDAMMIT I WILL CONQUER THESE WORDS!

I had coffee today. I'm sorry. (No I'm not. I really love coffee).

The deal is, [Львица] changed her name. You see, she was [the major was a lady] but that name has now been switched in all previous posts and, accept for the fact that I love recalling past things and had to mention it here, it will no longer appear on this blog. And, because I'm a copycat and felt like changing mine to something that won't connect my blog to Twilight, Nazis, or Nazi Vampires eating babies, I decided to go with something new. Yes, [La Maga] doesn't sound as kick-ass, but trust me: it's cool in it's own right. At least, I think it is.

Here's where it comes from: back in the day, my compatriots and I got really into tarot somewhere between graduation and the summer after my freshman year in college. I really grew to like [novel killer]'s deck, a design called Paulina Tarot (which you can check out here, if it behooves you). While I'm probably getting scorn for being into tarot from all sides (assumptions that it's all about the occult, assumptions that I'm trying to predict the future in a way that's no more legit than horoscopes and fortune cookies), I DON'T CARE. For one, it's actually based of a European card game and is not inherently about witchcraft, Satan worshiping or any other not-so respectable hobbies. Also, I feel it's a lot more complex than horoscopes, considering it's not just giving you a description of basic personality types that could fit anyone; tarot descriptions are actually pretty particular, there's 72 cards, and the meanings change depending what sort of deck you have. Look, I'm a logical, rational human being, but sometimes, things in life can't be explained by science. I like to think tarot is one of those things. However, I don't expect you to agree with me. Honestly, I have a furious love for the mysterious - I thrive off of these sorts of things.

Anyway, [novel killer] used her deck to answer some questions I had about life. And I was totally blown away. Like it was accurate. Really freaking accurate. And because I like odd, not-so-normal things, I got interested in tarot and decided to buy my own deck. [novel killer] gave me some advice about it, in particular saying to go with the deck that jumps out the most at you, the one you can't get out of your head - because that deck is choosing you. And it happened that the deck I liked most was the same style [novel killer]. So I bought it. And it was brilliant.

http://www.paulina.ws/tarot/1-magician.html

There's this whole series of weird stories I could tell you about my deck - and [novel killer]'s because they: a) each have their own personality and b) are related, but I've probably weirded you all out enough thus far. So I'm going to cut to the chase and talk about the major arcana. The major arcana are twenty-two cards that represent personas, so to say. Death, The Chariot, The Fool... these are all major arcana cards. Anyway, each person has a card that represents them. And when you get a deck and get to know it, you find out which card it is (via a long drawn out process With my deck, it's The Magician - hence La Maga, the Italian for the same word.

Here's the description of the card for my deck:

Infinite possibilities, self confidence, personal power, determination, concentration, action, focus.
Reversed: lack of courage, destructive use of powers, manipulation, confusion.

Do I think that sounds like me? Well, I sure as hell want it to. Look at that card - it's gorgeous. But seriously, out of all of the major arcana card descriptions, this one fits me best.

http://erinmorgenstern.com

But enough of me going about tarot. The reason all of this is on my mind is that I just read one of the best books I've ever encountered in modern fiction: The Night Circus. IT IS AMAZING. I bring it up because it's all about magicians and a tarot reader and a guy who's card is the Magician. And it's absolutely such an amazing, sweet, powerful, romantic book. Everything I want my writing to be, as a matter of fact.

So, long story made longer, I decided to call myself [La Maga] because it encompasses all sorts of things for me. And I'm all about creating stuff - what represents creating better than the infinite possibilities of a magician?

And, yeah, it's one of the first words I ever learned in Italian. Judge me at will.

Also, many many many thanks to [Львица] and [The Question] for dealing with my name change. It's super annoying to go through all those posts. Thanks guys :D

And Again With the Weirdness... and Dreams... and Vampires. And Batman.

I had a pretty great first week back in classes (which is a plus - after a rather mundane last semester, I am pumped to have some pretty exciting ones). However, fun took its toll and I had a pretty weird-ass dream Friday night.

http://collider.com

So I feel like I'm watching the movie Fright Night but am also this character in it. There's this girl who's hanging out at the bar kind of on her own, kind of with friends, and Jerry the vampire - ala Colin Farrell - comes up to her. He's trying to seduce her in that Dracula-type way but it's not really working so he drugs her and knocks her out and she wakes up in this backroom of the bar and has to fight her was back to the main bar area. But then the dream restarts, from the beginning, only both the vampire and the girl remember what happened previously. So the girl is way more wary of the vampire but he's also way more convincing. And he keeps trying to slip blood into her drinks (because isn't there some thing about how if you drink a vampire's blood you're semi-vampiric? Or am I way off-base here?). But she's having none of it and apparently Jerry the vampire is responsible for trying to kill one of her friends. And he's all like, "It wasn't me, babe - I'm not a bad vampire. Really, being a vampire isn't evil - I make good life decisions. So join me 'cause I'm hot." And so on. But the girl escapes once again but AGAIN my dream starts over (and some part of my subconscious is like "WTF? Fright Night was NOT this scary the first time I watched it!") and the girl really wants to get the hell out of that bar before it becomes some creepy rip-off (yet higher budgeted) version of Dusk Before Dawn but Jerry is so damn convincing (and hot) so the girl's about to give in. But someone helps her or something and she escapes and she's running outside. And suddenly she fully becomes me and there's no more of this weird split-perspective thing and I'm running past Walter Library with someone. And Batman - not like the cool, Christian Bale/mod Batman, but the Adam West/ I'm-wearing-a-really-terrible-grey-spandex-suit Batman - is swinging from the Grecian columns on the facade of the library. It's raining sideways, and Batman is proclaiming that because  it is raining sideways, this (of course) is a sign of the Apocalypse. I find this a bit odd but follow whoever I'm with inside the library, just in case. And also, I don't want to run into anymore vampires.

http://dialbforblog.com

So yeah... No idea where all this came from in its rather unique, vivid and terrifying splendor. And for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it. It seemed full of symbology and weird connections to all kinds of vampire stories (except for maybe Twilight. Lies - Jerry was trying to be all sympathetic and Byronic like Edward. Fail. At least he didn't sparkle...).

But why this dream? Yes, I have been trying to find Fright Night used because I want to buy it but I'm cheap. I've been thinking about Gothic writing a lot here due to some of my classes and because I'm trying to resist the urge to read Jane Eyre for the 20th time, The Phantom of the Opera for the third, Dracula for the third or fourth, and go see Beauty and the Beast in 3D. Yes, Beauty and the Beast is not a Gothic novel... but that castle in the movie looks pretty damn Gothic to me. And Gaston is the funniest Disney ever. And somehow, I think dwelling upon Gaston's muscular build reminded me of Jerry the vampire somehow... and thus maybe there's the root for some of this weirdness.

I still have no idea where the fuck Batman came from.

Dreams, Doctors, and Shoes

So I had this bizarre dream the other night that I simply can't get out of my head: My parents were driving me, through Scotland (I think) for a reunion with the people on my Scotland trip at some church in the countryside, surrounded by graveyards. I went into the church and started talking to some of the students. We then took this tour about the building and I noticed something odd about all of the people there. They were all kind of monotoned, glassy-eyed, and barefoot. I wandered into the gift shop and started talking to the woman who worked there. She was pregnant and apparently everyone working there believed her baby was super important. I got this weird feeling that her baby wasn't normal, that it was a ghost baby or something, and I was kind of weirded out. I had this sense that this church was like the Hotel California - "you can check out any time you like; but you can never leave" - and that something was binding people to this place. And that the ghost baby was a huge part of this. Then the Doctor - 10th regeneration, aka David Tennant - walks into the shop and begins talking to the woman. She starts trying to play some sort of Jedi mind trick on him and make him forget his reasons for coming and to make him the way she is - barefoot and glassy-eyed and trapped in this place. He starts to slip away into this weird twilight world of theirs, but he's able to fight it off and I help him escape, although he somehow loses a shoe in the process. So we're walking down a street that looks similar to one I walked down in Glasgow, and he's telling me how he's a Time Lord and how he's come there to free these people from whatever has made them work for this ghost that possesses this church, all the time we're walking down this cobbled street and I'm wondering if his bare, shoeless foot is getting cold. I agreed to help him and told him he had fantastic hair. And then I woke up.

I seriously don't know what to make of this. I mean, my dreams tend to be rather complex. But this was like half a TV episode or something. And damn, it felt so REAL.

My dreams are beginning to feel realer. What the heck does THAT mean? All I've got is this quote from Audrey Niffenegger in my head: Maybe I'm dreaming you. Maybe you're dreaming me; maybe we only exist in each other's dreams and every morning when we wake up we forget all about each other. I feel like this quote captures why I have such an interest in dreams (and why I continue to talk about mine here). I feel like there's something more to them than just random brain spasms and jumbling of stuff at the end of the day. I'm not saying that, as I sleep, I'm starring in episodes of Doctor Who or solving crimes or planning out epic movie or novel plots. I'm not saying my dreams make sense or have some sort of integral meaning. I just think they're really interesting and cool to ponder.

And I'm concerned as to whether the Doctor ever gets his shoe back.

Randomness

I have survived the bulk of my finals (yay!), with only a social psych test (which I can use a cheat sheet on and already have pwned the class) left. So on that note, I would like to share a few random searches that have lead back to my blog.

- Nazi Vampires eating babies: I truly have no idea what this means. Seriously, I don't - something to do with Hellsing, which is a manga I haven't read... so still clueless. Sorry, guys.  I have a feeling such searches have arrived here, very disappointed.

- Byronic hero: Glad to see that one of my favorite character styles from English literature is oft searched after. Perhaps I shall do more follow up on this theme. Just in case would-be high school essay writers need some assistance.

- Nicholas Cage Vampire: Yes. Thank you, urban legends and my weird fascination in them for providing me with page views.

- Stephen Maturin: Ha! Someone else knows who this character by Patrick O'Brian. Win.

- The Producers Leopold Bloom Hysterics: It's really difficult to find funny scenes from this movie, especially this part of it. And according to [Львица], who searched this and ended up back at my blog, really the only available one is posted here. Cool beans.

- John Barrowman looking like Tom Cruise: This is personally my favorite. See, I am not alone in this realization.

http://www.prlookup.com

http://scifi.soentertain.me

Still weird. Will always be weird. And Barrowman will always be hotter.

Also, Tom Cruise looks like Zachary Quinto in this picture:

http://www.charlesayoub.com

http://www.tvpilotlight.com

 OH MY GOD TOM CRUISE STOP LOOKING LIKE OTHER HOT ACTORS. YOU'RE NOT THAT HOT...

Well, maybe he is... a little bit.

AHHHHHH NOOOOOOOOOOO... God dammit.

Alien Movies are Affecting My Brain

I just watched Super 8 with my parents tonight and I realized that I've been having a lot of bizarre dreams in connection to it.

Like just the other the night I dreamed that Freddie Highmore, looking just like Charlie in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was my son (how my son was British, I'll never know) and he ran off into the forest (that looked just like the forests in Martha Marcy May Marlene) and teamed up with this architecture and science crew to build this secret lab to study aliens. And then he got arrested by the US government and I was really upset - both that the Freddie Highmore kid ran away, and that the government arrested him.

And then some time ago I dreamed that I was walking on this pedestrian bridge over the interstate, this one that's covered in wire fencing and ended up at some substation were this huge wooden fence had been built up around the electrical devices. Something was living back there and trying to tear its way out. The military arrived and I tried to escape but my way was barred by broken fence material so I started climbing the fence and swinging on it like a monkey. I had outrageous upper body strength and realized that whatever creature was living behind the fence was giving me some sort of superhero skills. So I escaped before the military could apprehend me.

Yeah, so I should seriously stop watching sci-fi. Like that's gonna happen.

And while I'm on the topic of weird dreams, I keep having this reoccurring one where the same thing happens - for no apparent reason, my teeth get loose and fall out. I had it once this semester and then again just last night. I mean, there I was, eating or something, and then I realized my two front teeth were loose. And suddenly the came out like baby teeth. And I woke up with "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" in my head and I was not happy. But I've had this dream at least six or seven times over the last year or so and I have no idea why. This terrible dream dictionary I have says it means I'm worried about some relationship or friendship or something. I think it means I have some weird phobia about my teeth. Oy.

DAMMIT!

You're right, [Львица]... John Barrowman does kinda look like Tom Cruise. I realized that reading your wingman post this morning.

JESUS THIS IS WEIRD.

Sorry, Cruise... still like Barrowman way more. Just saying.

Guinness + Cupcakes = Weird Dreams

Figure 1... I always hit my knees on the stools.

Another cry of help from my subconscious. Last night, after the birthday celebrating was done, I had an oddly real-feeling dream. I was back in the cafeteria of my junior high, sitting at one of those uncomfortable, round tables that have those circular plastic seats attached (see figure 1) with [uber gay] and [X]. Why it was those two and there, I have no idea. Anyway, there was apparently some convention going on or something, because there were a bunch of people sitting at tables around the room. We were in the center, near the front where the kitchens are, and there was this long table set up that people were hovering around. And there, sitting at the table, was John Barrowman. It seemed he was doing some sort of autograph signing. I was suddenly elated and also terrified. I wanted to meet him, to say hi, but I was so shy and nervous and afraid of to talk to him because I'd never talked to anyone that attractive. So I decided to stay at the table while [uber gay] and [X] gushed and got him to sign something. I felt like an idiot but decided to stay where I was because Barrowman did not seem to happy about [X] and [uber gay]'s gushing and I decided that he must have been rather jet-lagged. Then [X] and [uber gay] returned to the table to continue gushing. Which is funny, because I'm 98% sure that in real life, neither one of them knows who John Barrowman is. So yeah... it's weird on several different levels.

Also, anyone else think it's kind of sad that I can't even talk to a hot guy/ celebrity in my dreams? Stupid subconscious...

Aliens and the daily news

Saw this on BBC's website the other day:

'No evidence' for extraterrestrials, says White House

Good to know, guys. But after seeing Torchwood: Children of Earth, maybe it's not the US I should be concerned with.

So, British Parliament... should I be concerned about any interaction with the 456s? :P

You killed Ianto... you bastards!

Join Us at the Ghost Post

I had the weirdest of feelings today. I was walking around the medical part of campus, around Moos Tower and the area where all the hospitals and medical buildings are, near Washington Avenue where they're putting in the light rail. I was walking across this stone courtyard and out of nowhere, I thought I heard the dinging of the bell on the light rail when it departs from the station. Except that that was impossible. Because the light rail isn't there yet.

Oh my God, I thought to myself. I just heard the future. It was a weird, wibbly-wobbly time moment. Most likely it was a hallucination in my weird old brain. But who knows...

Speaking of the future, [Львица] and I decided that pans with regenerative Teflon would be something we'd like to see in the future. That way, when you burn something in it, the pan isn't screwed for life.

Today overall has been a rather odd day. I had no Italian class this morning, just an oral exam, so I did my homework and spent my time walking around the river, looking at the foliage and taking in the fall atmosphere. I don't know why, but today just feels... mysterious. Consciousness of the date aside, it really does just feel - spooky.

Perhaps in part because of the weird dream I had last night. I dreamed that I was on the Scotland trip, in Stirling, looking at "the Guy Fawkes house." One - Guy Fawkes has nothing to do with Scotland or Stirling. Two - I'm not so sure they'd have a house to commemorate him, even in York where he's from. Three - Stirling did not look like Stirling in my dream. Although the painting of Guy Fawkes that was there actually did look like him. And I seemed to remember that he's also known as Guido. Weird.

Also, I think I had a dream about [novel killer] and Desperate Housewives, but I don't remember any of it. Except that I got into some epic suburban housewife fight with her.

So there you go. This post has no point. Except for this - Happy Halloween!

Disbelief, Part II

Well this is weird...

Alec Baldwin, ala Beetlejuice

[manly metro] and friend

Apparently [manly metro] looks a bit like Alec Baldwin when he's not growing facial hair. Because he totally did not look like Alec Baldwin on the Scotland trip.

[manly metro] is the one in the black jacket.

See my confusion? Understandable, right, how I shocked I am that he suddenly looks like Alec Baldwin without the goatee? Weird man... weird. And after the dancing Gumbi outside my window last night, it's too much (the sax man and Gumbi were real.... I can't believe it).

Disbelief

Another late night blog, because I was woken up by a saxophone player. Yes, you read that right. A man with dreadlocks was playing the saxophone, standing outside the house across the street, in the dark, loudly playing the opening of George Michael's "Careless Whisper" while a guy in a Gumbi costume danced around him.

I've never done drugs, but I got the feeling like this might be one of the crazy hallucinations 'shrooms might cause. Don't do drugs, kids. This was whack - and I WASN'T HIGH. I SAW THIS, SOBER, WITH MY OWN EYES. OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.

I just can't believe it was REAL. I mean, yeah, it's Halloween weekend, but I was in bed, half-asleep, and then I heard the saxophone (and was beating myself up for not remembering the name of the song it was from) and then I tried to figure out where it was coming from because it was SO LOUD. And then I saw Gumbi. And then they and two other guys made their way down the street, while the saxophone player continued to blast the song which my searching for its name was calls "the song they play when people start having sex in movies" as they made their way across 35W into Dinkytown.

Really, I'm writing this right now because I've got the sax solo stuck in my head and I had to figure out what the fucking song was! And also, I want evidence that I just saw what I saw... because this was weird enough to have been a dream. And by tomorrow morning, I might just think it was. Thus, here is the evidence that it was not so. It was real. I just saw Gumbi dance to George Michael. I need to get some fucking sleep.

Rude and Not Ginger, and Balance Theory

Psychology came to the rescue the other day with a realization I made. While looking up something about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it suddenly occurred to me why the character John Hart looked so damn familiar on Torchwood - BECAUSE HE'S PLAYED BY THE SAME FREAKING ACTOR WHO PLAYED SPIKE ON BUFFY. Holy shit, people - holy shit.

I began freaking out. I mean, Spike is incredible and knowing that it's the same actor just makes my life. Just like finding out the guy who sings as the blonde Nazi chorus guy in the "Springtime For Hitler" segment in The Producers is JOHN BARROWMAN (I always wondered who that attractive man was ;) ). And that like half of my friends watch Doctor Who. And Doctor Who has a thing about gingers, which is funny because being ginger is a continuing topic of discussion amongst [Львица] and me (as [Львица] is actually a redhead).

Everything in my life is connected... which is starting to weird me out. My favorite late night comedian, Craig Ferguson, likes Doctor Who, my friends like Doctor Who, I finally started watching Doctor Who the other night (the first episode of the first restart season with Christopher Eccleston, the episode called "Rose" - I got advice from a girl in my Italian class who is a big Who fan as to where to start in the series on Wednesday when our substitute professor didn't show up) AND I LOVE IT.

There is clearly some link between things I like and people I like. And, fortunately for me, psychology has a short and sweet little theory about it. It's called balance theory and it makes me incredibly happy.

Here's how it works - basically, humans want to achieve balance in their life, between things they like and people they like. It's always showed pictorially as triangles, so here's a nice little representation of it:

So, in a balanced situation, Pam's worst enemy is Oliver. But she loves skiing. Therefor, if Oliver hates skiing, all is right with the world. But, if Pam likes Oliver and likes skiing, but Oliver hates skiing, things are going to unbalanced and Pam is going to have a much harder time of finding stuff to do with Oliver.

Here's how it works with my life. I like British things. I like science fiction. I like my friends. My friends generally also like British things and science fiction. So things pretty much equal out.

Except for the fact that the end of Season 3 on Torchwood sucked. What the hell was that, killing Ianto? And Jack's grandson? AND IANTO?! ;(

Sorry, I knew it was going to happen, but I'm a little distraught. And now Jack is all angsty... it's disheartening.

Anyway, balance theory. So I'm upset with the end of season 3. But I REALLY love the show. So I'm feeling a bit of dissonance about that. However, I've chosen to ignore it by continuing to watch it in hopes that Ianto will magically come back. And by continuing my utterly juvenile gushing over Jack Harkness. We'll see how that works out...

Keanu Reeves... is a vampire?!

So somebody in my Italian class brought this up today (because we clearly weren't doing anything important, not without an instructor there):

Keanu Reeves is a vampire.

Thank God for Tumblr. I don't know what I did without it (had a lot harder time of finding photos and shit, that's what).

So all because of this painting of a French actor from the 1800s whose body was never found, Reeves has joined the ranks of time-traveling Travolta and undead Nicholas Cage. More celebrities looking like people who are supposed to be dead. Where did this phenomenon come from?!

I don't know... but I'm digging it. Gives me something bizarre to blog about right before Halloween. By the way, Keanu Reeves, if you really are a vampire, can you and vampire Nicholas Cage make Twilight stop? 'Kay, thanks.

Dirty Job

It all started when I got home last night at around 9:20 pm from band. I was checking my email and the Twitter universe when [Львица]'s phone rang and the girl from apartment #3, a basement unit, said her bathroom was flooding. [Львица] went down to investigate while I got the key from the lockbox for #103, as we thought it might be a leak from that unit. As #103 wasn't even home, we were kind of confused how there could be a leak (as most water issues from the pipes seems to occur when the person in the unit above is using the shower). [Львица] went to deal with #103 while I went to go help the tenant in #3 with the leak. As soon as I saw the bathroom, I froze.

The water was ankle deep and pouring out from the ceiling like a waterfall. A bottle of some sort of hair product was floating around and water was seeping into the carpet of the rest of the studio apartment rather quickly, turning it into the consistency of a swamp. I stupidly ran to get some towels, trying to figure out how to keep the water from spreading further. It did little good, as the towels were soaked in an instant. I ran to grab some buckets to start capturing water in while the ceiling tiles fell down, turned into what felt like soggy cardboard-like things and covering the floor in gritty sand-like stuff and staples. I set up some buckets and a giant trash can and, with another bucket, started dumping as much water as possible down the shower drain. Within minutes I was soaked by the onslaught of water from above. I continued to bail out water, like a sailor in the bottom of a sinking ship, and hoped to God one of the valves [Львица] was shutting off would finally do the trick. Eventually, she just shut of the water to the entire building and the water ceased its waterfall-esque activity.

[Львица] took over trying to salvage #3 bathroom while I went to each unit (23 in all) to tell all 34 tenants that the water was off in the entire building. #5 and #4 already knew; #5 is right next door to #3 and she had water seeping into her room from the leak. #4 heard the noise and came out to investigate and also had water at the edge of one of their doorways, even though their apartment is across the hall. I wish I could have tape recorded everyone's reactions as I went to each room, drenched from the leak with my hair plastered across my head like a wet squirrel and water pooling up around my feet from my saturated jeans. I returned to the basement to find that there was no longer any water standing in the bathroom but that the carpet was turning into a lagoon. After many calls to our landlord and his sister, we got an emergency clean-up crew to come out and vacuum the water out of the carpet and our friend Dan the plumber to come and fix the pipe. It was now around eleven o'clock at night.

The ceiling after the leak... photo courtesy of [Львица]

Apparently, whoever designed the plumbing in this building was on crack. Plumbers show up, look at the rows of pipes and the valves for each stack and open up the walls and just shake their head. There were pipes in #3 that had duct tape around them. Not plumber's tape; DUCT TAPE. Seriously? I mean, c'mon.


We got the water mopped up from the hallway, the girls in #4 expressed their consolation that we have the worst job in the world, and the kind-of drunk flood rescue crew and the kindly plumber arrived to save the day. After much-to-do, the carpet was mostly dry, the pipe was temporarily fixed (it was all caused by two pipes that separated... however the hell that happened) and the very tired building managers could finally go to bed.

Except that it wasn't over yet. Today, when I got back from class (yes, I did go to class despite getting only 6 hours of sleep; I think that's more than some kids usually get, so...), the plumber (a different plumber - Mike, who we'd met over the summer) was here to permanently fix the problem. Except that the problem started traveling upwards. Once the leak stopped in #3, it went up to #103 and started coming out. A hole was made in #103 and water started spurting out, making the carpet wet. Mike had to leave to go to another appointment, but another guy was supposed to come. Except that he didn't, we didn't have the other guy's number and Mike just left with an active leak. It kind of felt like this (minus Sam Neil):

So [Львица] shut off the water again, we waited for Mike and Jim, Mike's boss to return, and I did my Italian homework. The plumbers returned, made a hole in #203's room and finally figured out how to fix the leak. After deciding that the plumbing in our building is just insane.

We were joking about the other day how we feel like all the water in the building was collecting in one area and going to explode. Except that we thought that it would be in our apartment, since we had a leak above the sink (which isn't actually a leak... there's no water coming out of the pipe; it was just strangely damp. Who knows...). And then the explosion in #3... *sigh*.

As of now, all is well (KNOCK ON WOOD). All I can say is this job certainly keeps me on my toes. And Mike Rowe of "Dirty Jobs" fame totally missed out on what would have been the most epic episode of his show ever.

Another Disaster, Another Day

Today, I was hoping to get the bulk of my homework done today so I could relax this weekend. Ha. Right.

Yesterday, we had an issue up in apartment 306 with a toilet that wouldn't stop flushing so our handyman had to run out here and temporarily fix it until he could return today to figure out what the hell was going. But then, this morning, [Львица] called me and said that water was gushing out of 306 and that there was some issue in 206.

For some ungodly reason, water erupted from the walls of 306 when one of the girls in 206 turned on their shower. Their bathroom in 306 filled with water, which then gushed "like a waterfall" down through the doorway of the bathroom doorway of 206.

Sad day. Just... yeah. Sad day.

I hate plumbing. I really do. I've inhereited it from my father. He can deal with any home improvement issue, as long as it doesn't involve complicated electrical wiring or plumbing. Because when it comes to plumbing... well, there's a reason it takes some serious training to know what the hell is going on there. I generally love water - when it's not being routed through pipe systems that seem rather faulty and enjoy ruining a perfectly good Friday morning. Because the plumbing in this building seems to be possessed. And it's sending me into hysterics.

Yep, plumbing issues turn me into Leopold Bloom from The Producers. Who knew?

That being said, I feel like no matter how crazy things are around here, the residents of this building are to be commended. Not only did they choose cheaper housing over the fancy-pants places like the Dinkydome (okay, so maybe they didn't choose, exactly, but there are other places that cost only a little more than here and are... shall we say, more luxurious) they also chose minimalist living (meaning you don't get a lot of perks. No exercise room, no free laundry, no plasma TVs and cable in each unit. And yes, to those of you who didn't know that, some college apartments come with this stuff now).  Probably because minimalist living is a bit cheaper (though really, FloCo just down the street doesn't cost that much more. It's just brand-new and filled up faster than Adele tickets sell out. Okay, okay, not that fast. But you get the idea). Also, our residents are to be commended for their patience. Seriously, water exploding out of the walls? Not something you want to deal with very often. And yet they haven't flipped out on us. Well, not a total meltdown yet. Everyone has been very kind and forgiving so far. Except for you, 303. You know why.

I bring this up to remind myself that I'm doing this for them, the college students who choose a "distinctive" building with "character" and are making the best of it. If they weren't so fabulous, our job would be much, much harder. It's better to deal with just the exploding pipes, rather than exploding pipes and emotions. Knock on wood... I'm probably tempting fate now. Alas.

Hipster Time Traveler?

 So while trying to plan a Halloween costume and doing research for a writing project (*cough,* not school writing, fictional writing) I stumbled across this article: Time Traveler Caught in Museum Photo?

Here's the gist: apparently, a photo in a museum in British Columbia shows a guy at a bridge reopening in the 1940s who just... doesn't quite fit in.

Mr. Sunglasses there just kind of stands out once you see him.

However, the article does explain how his clothes aren't as anachronistic as we'd like to think. And that this could be a hoax. So all it really proves is that there were hipsters in the 1940s.

How about that.

However, there are apparently people out there who claim to be time travelers. Like this guy named Andrew Carlssin, who claimed to be from 2256. And a John Titor, who's name actually came up online amongst my searching (and whom I must find more about...) who's part of online forums discussing time travel. Which he claims he does.

Which leaves me two ideas:

1) Write about time traveling for my senior paper. Interview John Titor. Write a ground-breaking book about our fascination with the past and the future.

or...

2) Start blogging as a time traveler. Become famous. Write a ground-breaking book about our fascination with the past and the future.

Clearly I'm not going to do #2, as I just gave it away. And it would be dishonest. But regardless, this is something I'm going to have to look into more. I don't care if it's fake; it's a cultural phenomenon, and I'm intrigued. Besides, deep deep down we all know I just want to work for X Files or Doctor Who/ Torchwood or something. And this is as close as I'm going to get.

So, onwards! Time for me to dive into some interweb forums and start perusing the unexplainable. And finding weird shit. Lots and lots of weird shit.