Grooving at the Grove

Labels: bitchiness, Grove girls, homeliness, ring by spring

Labels: bitchiness, school

I don't drink, but...
Sometimes, I get emails from the people I work with when they're a little tipsy. Dan sent this to me and everyone in my "SURE THING" program last night at 2 a.m.

Ok, so since we have this newly UNCENSORED list, I have to just get one thingout... PENISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ok, now that this word is out ofmy system, whomever would like to tailgate for the pirate game tomorrow, cometo the cluster at around 5. I'd say we should get to the stadium parking lotaround 5:30-6, so we can get plenty $hitfaced to think the pirates areactually good. If Greg stops being a herb and gets out of his meaninglessmeetings, then he should come too. You hear that Greg? STOP BEING A HERB! Ok enough "buzzed" typing. Just everybody come to the cluster tomorrow at 5,and let's have a good time! It's a SURE THING, man! (I had to say it)-Dan

And a minute later...

Oh yea I almost forgot if anybody has a grill they should bring it with themto work tomorrow, 'cause then we can grill shit at the stadium. That would besweet. Ight, see you all tomorrow.-dan

Tailgating was never advertised so articulately.

Taking the plunge

The first time I climbed up to the high dive I was too afraid to jump off. Thankfully, the impatient kid behind me ran up behind me and tackled me off the board. We tumbled into the cool, deep water in a cross between football and diving. When I surfaced from the water, I laughed and then regained my composure and punched boy that knocked me off.

Although I'm not a kid anymore, I took a major plunge last night as well. I stood at the end of the proverbial diving board and realized it was better to jump off blindly than to wait to climb down. I'm not sure if I will hit the water or the concrete, but either is better than just standing on the board.

Back and bored

Well, I haven't written in about a year, but I'm back. Why? Well, I spend 8 hours a day in front of a computer and 7.5 of those hours are waiting for my algorithm to process.

I really thought that I was too good looking to be a computer programmer. I was wrong.

If I have learned anything this summer, it is that I hate neural networks. Machine learning (teaching your computer to do stuff) is a fun idea, but in practice it takes forever because the computer is dumb. I am currently spreading the load across seven machines, not GCC laptops either, and it still takes years to complete. The problem is not my code. It's the neural net.

I put a timer on the neural net, but it takes so long to run the algorithm that it inevitably resets. When the processing finishes, I have 90 windows pop up on my screen. I enter the "close all" command and have to wait another 30 seconds for my screen to be readable.

Snag him, Tag him, Bag him: the desperate girl's (not my) approach to material bliss

Thankfully, I've never been boy crazy enough to use this plot, but among the thousands of rednecks I know, I've seen this tactic work time and time again. It's the ultimate trap to catch the ultimate (or at least personal ultimate) catch.

1. SNAG HIM! This step starts in junior high when a bright-eyed, innocently conniving girl sees her pray. She is camouflaged by her braces, glasses, and gangly features so that the victim has no idea that she is about to pounce. The boy, typically skinny with acne and unwashed hair, will say "whazzup?" to her and lean nonchalantly against his locker. He may have to place his notebook just below his belt because, again, this is an awkward age. Even though the girl is far from a woman, he will "go out" with her because he is too immature to be picky. (FYI Going out doesn't involve going anywhere. It means that when no one is looking the boy will hold the girl's hand. They may also ride bicycles together, weather permitting.)

2. TAG HIM! This step involves the girl "marking her territory"; it does not involve urination. When the girl tags her guy, she makes it known to every other freshman and sophomore in the high school that he is off limits. She does this though several steps.

• First, she interrupts guy time. She may even sneak into to the men's locker room when the football players are watching tapes just be sure none of the cheerleaders are accompanying the team.
• Second, she ensures that anyone who comes within 20 feet of her boyfriend smells her perfume. This typically involves buying the Family Dollar equivalent of "Curve" by the gallon and pouring it all over her guy's room, car, locker, and, possibly, home.
• Third, she threatens to bawl if her guy gives her any less than four dozen kisses a day, 80% of which must be in front of at least 10 other people. By the end of the week, everyone in town knows that this guy only kisses this girl and that if another girl tries to kiss the boyfriend, she will either get herpes or a broken nose, probably both.
• Fourth, if another girl says more than two words to the boyfriend, the girlfriend will label that girl a "slut." The talker could be planning to join a convent and simply sharing the good news of salvation with the boyfriend, but if she says "Jesus saves you," (three words) instead of "Jesus saves," (two words) then she is a slut.
• Fifth, the culmination of tagging him involves a promise ring. This is a five-dollar ring from Dollar General that symbolizes that the guy will buy the girl a real engagement ring once he ditches his job at Burger King and stops spending so much on paintballs and paintball accessories.

3. BAG HIM! Last the guy proposes to the girl in the middle of senior year (sans ring because he still works at Burger King). She buys a prom dress that can double as a wedding gown and starts to practice her literacy skills again so that she can address Dollar Tree wedding invitations to the entire trailer park. Her parents and entire extended family chip in to rent the local fire hall for the reception. The groom's parents offer the mayor half a heifer to perform the ceremony despite the bride and groom's being related. The groom's parents also provide a couple of kegs that they stole off a beer truck. After the big day, the bride and groom pack up his truck and go to the middle of a state park where they consummate their marriage in a tent that was unfortunately pitched on a poison ivy patch.

PS If this offends you somehow, I don't mean it. I'm just trying to be funny and sometimes I deserve a laugh and sometimes I deserve a slap.

New Theme: Guys and Girls

As a blogger who likes to have a common thread among her entries, I've decided that I need a new topic now that the internet-textbook fiasco is over. I considered several possibilities such as the joy of being a redneck or da Grove, but these weren't universal enough. The male-female interaction, though, is something that all of us have experienced. It will give me lots of material, and it will allow any of you to tell me a topic to cover either via email, AIM, or comment.

The rules for men

I found this list of rules for guys at the website http://www.liquorwits.com/code.html. The entire list isn't the cleanest, but I've picked some of the more amusing, more appropriate ones for my blog. I'm not sure if these are correct or not so feel free to leave a comment if they aren't.

1. If you've known a guy for more than 24 hours, his sister is off limits forever! Unless you actually marry her.

2. Unless he murdered someone in your immediate family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 24 hours.

3. Under no circumstances may two men share an umbrella.

4. Women who claim they "love to watch sports" must be treated as spies until they demonstrate knowledge of the game and the ability to pick a Buffalo wing clean.

5. No man shall ever be required to buy a birthday present for another man. (in fact, even remembering your best friends birthday is optional)

6. You must offer heartfelt condolences over the death of a girlfriends cat, even if it was you who secretly set it on fire and threw it into a ceiling fan.

7. Unless you have a lucrative endorsement contract, do not appear in public wearing more than one Nike swoosh.

8. Friends don’t let friends wear speedos. Ever. Case closed.

9. If a buddy has lint, an eyelash, or any other foreign object on his hair or face, under no circumstances are you permitted to remove it. However an appropriate hand gesture may be made to make him aware of it.

10. If you accidentally touch or brush against any part of another man below the waist, it is an understood accident, and NO apologies or any reference to the occurrence is necessary.

11. A man's shoes may not intentionally match any other article of clothing on his body.

12. No man shall ever allow anyone to speak ill of The Simpsons or any Rocky movie. (Exception: Rocky V)

13. You have not made any mistake if you find that there are extra pieces after reassembling or assembling an object. In fact, you have just found a way to make that object more efficient.

14. There are is never an occasion in which any shirt without buttons may be tucked in. (Exception: when you are participating in a organized sporting event)

15. Any object thrown with reasonable speed and accuracy, MUST be caught

16. A man shall never help another man apply sun tan oil.

17. The guy who wants something the most is responsible for getting it.

I wish I lived in Bangladesh: The last installment of my cheap textbook adventure

The final book arrived today. I'm relieved because I now have them all, but I'm also a little worried that this discrete math book isn't quite ok. First of all, it says that it's only for sale in India, Nepal, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and Bhutan. Second, it's ISBN and publisher are different from the version I expected. I guess it's by the Indian affiliate of McGraw-Hill. Third, it's missing some of the tables that are shown in the US version. Forth, it sells for less than $8 in India. Of course, I couldn't have legally purchased it from India anyway. I wish I were from Bangladesh. I probably could have gotten all my books for this semester brand new for less than 50 bucks.
Unless there is a major discrepancy between the homework problems in my book and the problems in the US version, I'll probably keep it and be ok, but I should have known that getting a $110 book for $40 was probably too good to be true.
Now that I've received all my books, I can evaluate the entire situation. Two of my five books were perfect and exactly as I wanted them. One of them was pretty darn close. It's the identical international version. It's in color and in great shape. Two of them fall in the "probably ok" category. I might buy my books off the internet again, but I think next time I'll be a little more selective and look at characteristics other than price. I'll also consider getting used books because it's probably better to have the identical American version with a little wear and tear than a brand new international version with differences in content.

Update on Operation Cheap Books

Today I discovered a rather large package wedged in my rather small mailbox. After prying it free with brute strength and a crow bar, I ripped off the priority mail envelope and embraced my new numerical methods book. I'm really happy with what I got. It's definitely brand new, and the $60 book is exactly what Amazon.com is selling for $105 new.

In contrast to my joyous reception of my numerical methods book, my differential equations book is MIA. To freak me out even more, the seller's rating on amazon.com has plummeted. He's gone from 90% satisfaction to less than 80%. The book is almost too cheap to be true, and it still hasn't arrived. I'm concerned.

While my experience with used/new books on Amazon has generally been ok, I think that next time I'm going to check out www.textbookworm.com
It definitely sells cheaper books although its selection isn't as great and all the books are used.

Tell me about this Moore-on

While many Americans are still getting over the fact that Fahrenheit 911 creator Michael Moore has a trucker hat growing out of his head and a head growing out of his soon-to-be roasted rump, others want to know more about Moore, namely how some with an IQ less than half of his pant size win the Cannes Film Festival. To help you get the necessary information about Jane Fonda's intellectual heir, I've sifted through hundreds of urban legends and interviewed dozens of amusement park workers.

In the fall of 1953, a clean-cut young "square" worked every night the local amusement park cleaning the whale dung from Shamu's mother's (we'll call her Kristially) tank. One night several "greasers" snuck into the staff room and forced him at knife point to get in the tank with the Orca and do it whaley-style.

Soon, the veterinarian discovered that Kristially was pregnant, but when the whale gave birth, the offspring looked like a very large human. Not wanting to be hounded by the media, the vet sent the child off to Flint, Mich., where most of the world's freaks reside.

Michael Moore grew up unaware of his parentage although he often ate hundreds of raw, whole fish at a time and weighed as much as the rest of his third grade class combined.

He began his filmmaking career with titles such as "Pets or Meat," which reflects his love for sautéing cats and puppies and eating them on sourdough bread; "Canadian Bacon," on his favorite import (aside from pornography involving African pygmies); and his ode to his rear "The Big One." (MGM is soon to release a sequel about his front entitled "The Really, Really Ridiculously Small One.")

Still, Michael Moore felt unfulfilled so he researched his past. His discovered that his father was a professional pooper scooper and that he would have fit right in on the Andy Griffith Show. To avenge his father, Moore became the arch-nemesis of everyone who thinks that today's world could use a few more Mayberrys. He also started making up crap and then pretending to be scooping it via documentaries. He also joined the NRA so that he can shoot his half brother Shamu should Sea World ever decide to remove his lifetime ban.

So there it is: More than you wanted or needed to know about Moore.