(no subject)
well whoever runs LJ is a loser who makes people pay to post pictures in journal entries. so if you wanna see the smoooth illustrations that go with this, here's my XANGA
http://www.xanga.com/A_Scribbles_Ago
there's a preceeding edition...so if you don't get who Karl is, that's why.
Here ya go:
Oooo dead time=AUTOBIGRAPHY TIME!
by...me.
For several polycabinet hours i poured over books, magazines, articles and blades of grass to discover the beauty of the world and how it relates to mathematics. I had some good ideas but couldn't formulate them into coherent sentances and could definately not pass a class based on the phrases i awkwardly strung together. After spending one week straight without eating, sleeping, bathing, dreaming, or skipping, I gave up my pursuit of this apparently impossible task of writing 2-3 pages on beauty and mathematics. With my skin pasty and my eye's goopy from lack of sleep and my hair knotted into dreadlocks, i finally decided to eat, bathe, sleep, dream, and skip. When I climbed into bed, i accidentally fell into the snake pit under my bed. Thankfully, Clide, from the closet realm of my residence offered me a rope in exchange for a pet dead-snake and advized me not to attempt to sleep when I'm so exhausted. He further said that his arch-cousin had once gone 3 centuries without sleep, and had a horrible sleep accident similar to the one i was currently experiencing.
I granted him his death snake and he helped me out of the snakepit. After I got out, I realized that the snake pit was actually an evolution pit. All those snakes had begun as cytoplasm and had evolved for literally DAYS into snakes. As I watched with amazement, the snakes began evolving into rocks. I was impressed. I then noticed that while i was in the pit, my dreadlocks evolved into wookies that were fighting over the last tire in a dozen.
Clide and his deathsnake went back to the closet realm and left me to my hair. Fortunately, Peter had just levelled up and gained the "Hair Exercism" ability for only 500MP! He brought over the sparkling water required for the exercism and his sacred grandma-vest. I didn't have the lightbulb of inspiring literature, so he had to make to do with a video-projector bulb. He sedated the angry wookie-locks and proceeded to say the required chant. It sounded alot like Bohemian Rhapsody. Amazingly, he sung all 5 harmonies himself. Unfortunately, his 1000 primate secrataries wouldn't stop banging randomly and animalisticly on the typewriter, so he couldn't concentrate. The clicking of the typewriters ate through his abilities. He sang louder, the primates typed louder. Peter then bribed his sectrataries with environmental cupcakes and they took their typing someplace else. Peter was able to finish his sacred chant and my hair returned to its normal, peacefull rest. He was sure to keep the hair wookies' essence in a bottle tho incase the tribe of renagade cameras came looking for them as has happenned in the past.
The primates worked in the adjacent room and had developed by a narrow and impossible chance a 2-3 page paper relating mathematics and beauty! As a completmentary gift, they gave it to me. Reading it over, the only error was mistaking "towards" for "toward". But they're just dumb monkeys who didn't know what's what.
I didn't mind the mistake and turned in the paper. Two weeks later, my professor of all things mathematic and beautiful approached me about my paper, telling me it was the most brilliant and awe-striking paper in the world. He asked my permission to copy the paper and include it in his "all things mathematic and beautiful" cirriculum. I gave my concent. The paper was published in the International Newspaper That Everybody Has To Read or Get Shot (INPTEHTRGS). This way, most of the "free thinking" crowd got shot. Karl was upset cus my paper disproved his existence, so he started dissappearing. He called me up and expressed his concern. He told me that since his lips dissapeared, he couldnt play the kazoo anymore. The only comfort i could offer was that if he imagined hard enough that he still existed, than he could not only continue existing, but he could also be anything he wanted. He thanked me and turned into a coffee mug. He now travels with me everywhere I go.
That's my day. Historic, romanticized, and good! My conclusion from it is that, although the 1000 primates typing on 1000 typwriters couldn't write a shakespearean play, they did write a world class paper that quoted shakespear. That's pretty darn good, fellas. Love for you allll.
http://www.xanga.com/A_Scribbles_Ago
there's a preceeding edition...so if you don't get who Karl is, that's why.
Here ya go:
Oooo dead time=AUTOBIGRAPHY TIME!
by...me.
For several polycabinet hours i poured over books, magazines, articles and blades of grass to discover the beauty of the world and how it relates to mathematics. I had some good ideas but couldn't formulate them into coherent sentances and could definately not pass a class based on the phrases i awkwardly strung together. After spending one week straight without eating, sleeping, bathing, dreaming, or skipping, I gave up my pursuit of this apparently impossible task of writing 2-3 pages on beauty and mathematics. With my skin pasty and my eye's goopy from lack of sleep and my hair knotted into dreadlocks, i finally decided to eat, bathe, sleep, dream, and skip. When I climbed into bed, i accidentally fell into the snake pit under my bed. Thankfully, Clide, from the closet realm of my residence offered me a rope in exchange for a pet dead-snake and advized me not to attempt to sleep when I'm so exhausted. He further said that his arch-cousin had once gone 3 centuries without sleep, and had a horrible sleep accident similar to the one i was currently experiencing.
I granted him his death snake and he helped me out of the snakepit. After I got out, I realized that the snake pit was actually an evolution pit. All those snakes had begun as cytoplasm and had evolved for literally DAYS into snakes. As I watched with amazement, the snakes began evolving into rocks. I was impressed. I then noticed that while i was in the pit, my dreadlocks evolved into wookies that were fighting over the last tire in a dozen.
Clide and his deathsnake went back to the closet realm and left me to my hair. Fortunately, Peter had just levelled up and gained the "Hair Exercism" ability for only 500MP! He brought over the sparkling water required for the exercism and his sacred grandma-vest. I didn't have the lightbulb of inspiring literature, so he had to make to do with a video-projector bulb. He sedated the angry wookie-locks and proceeded to say the required chant. It sounded alot like Bohemian Rhapsody. Amazingly, he sung all 5 harmonies himself. Unfortunately, his 1000 primate secrataries wouldn't stop banging randomly and animalisticly on the typewriter, so he couldn't concentrate. The clicking of the typewriters ate through his abilities. He sang louder, the primates typed louder. Peter then bribed his sectrataries with environmental cupcakes and they took their typing someplace else. Peter was able to finish his sacred chant and my hair returned to its normal, peacefull rest. He was sure to keep the hair wookies' essence in a bottle tho incase the tribe of renagade cameras came looking for them as has happenned in the past.
The primates worked in the adjacent room and had developed by a narrow and impossible chance a 2-3 page paper relating mathematics and beauty! As a completmentary gift, they gave it to me. Reading it over, the only error was mistaking "towards" for "toward". But they're just dumb monkeys who didn't know what's what.
I didn't mind the mistake and turned in the paper. Two weeks later, my professor of all things mathematic and beautiful approached me about my paper, telling me it was the most brilliant and awe-striking paper in the world. He asked my permission to copy the paper and include it in his "all things mathematic and beautiful" cirriculum. I gave my concent. The paper was published in the International Newspaper That Everybody Has To Read or Get Shot (INPTEHTRGS). This way, most of the "free thinking" crowd got shot. Karl was upset cus my paper disproved his existence, so he started dissappearing. He called me up and expressed his concern. He told me that since his lips dissapeared, he couldnt play the kazoo anymore. The only comfort i could offer was that if he imagined hard enough that he still existed, than he could not only continue existing, but he could also be anything he wanted. He thanked me and turned into a coffee mug. He now travels with me everywhere I go.
That's my day. Historic, romanticized, and good! My conclusion from it is that, although the 1000 primates typing on 1000 typwriters couldn't write a shakespearean play, they did write a world class paper that quoted shakespear. That's pretty darn good, fellas. Love for you allll.