College-Ruled Napkins
2001-05-25 - 6:30 p.m.
I�ve transferred my more important notes to napkin format. First off, it should be said that napkin notes are an art form. The drawings have to have just the right quality of sketchiness, the formulas wrapping around a crease or two, and it ussually looks good if there�s a central theme...No sentence structure allowed. You may only use present-tense verbs, nouns, and question marks; unless writing a computer programme code. Speaking of programming, I fnd the similarities between ancient chinese ink-drawn trees and the language Scheme. Any tree in this art form can be constructed by the use of four types of branches...where
;a branch is either:
;a sapling OR
;a branch
In this manner, a branch branches into more branches, until all of the branches end in saplings. Each of the four basic branches has two available �nodes� to contain a sapling or another branch...there�s almost something poetic to it.
There are a couple cat games of tic-tac-toe that you never get to see in real life. Unless someone is a really bad tic-tac-toe player, they just can�t occur in a game. I found one of these patterns by encouraging my left hand to win by letting my right hand slipp up, and then my left decided not to win. This sequence repeated itself many times before my bald bulbous head and I were asked to leave the restaurant. Damn baldists.
What todo with all that extra change: So, you get a dime in your mailbox. You disregard it as a weird occurrence, and pocket the dime because, after all, it�s a dime. The next day, there�s a nickel and four pennies in your mailbox. At this point, you mention it to a close relative...to make sure that you�re not going nuts. The next morning, everything would be fine, except that the mail doesn�t come on Sundays. All you get is a nickel and three pennies. You tell your friends and call a family meeting to find out who is doing this. But your not paranoid. No, not you. You tell yourself the next morning that it�s not the nickel and two pennies that are causing you to loose sleep. It musta been something you ate. At a nickel and a penny, you take a day off of work and set up a surveillance camera �just for fun�. The morning after is sent pondering the greater meaning of the nickel. What will happen when there�s no more money being delivered to the box? At the four penny marker, your wife agrees to calling the cops about the �situation�. With three pennies to go, you stop checking your mailbox. You know they�re in there, no need to touch �em. Two pennies, and you�re taking another siC day to put locks on all the doors. Gotta keep the pets inside. Send the kids to grandmas house for a few days. So you�re sitting there, starring at the cent in your mailbox, wondering whom you might have called names in high school, and hoping that Gordon Pinshwatter is still in a maximum security prison...Note: desired effect can be increased by colouring the head of each coin with a black permanent marker.
As for today: I was hanging out in a girl�s wing, and an RA told me to get out. The wings of the high school dorm are sex-segregated, so as to reduce the spread of STDs and to keep people from spending their time practicing �other than homework� activities. This, of course, makes perfect sense. However, it�s past finals (no homework) and I�m a decently responsible person. I just went to A-wing to hang out with people. Not girls. Not chicks. Real people. I ended up playing The Simms as well too [I had this kickass maze giong on, so that they�d get all lost and urinate on the floor before they could find the potty]. Very Lord-Of-The-Flies-ish. Afterward, the RA said he wanted to talk to me...I climbed up the balcony [the quickest way to get up the stairs is not to use them]. I should probably get some sort of punishment for this one, because they have told me about fifty-thousand-minus-eleven times that I am NOT [I repeat, NOT] Spider Man. I just keep forgetting to change into my tights before each time I do it. Speaking of RAs. I asked them several days ago to move Arron�s piss-soaked mattress out of the dorms, and it hasn�t moved since. I might not have a right to be in other wings, but I sure as hell should have one protecting me from brain-killing feces.
Sir#1: It's 2:35. do you know where you're spine is?
Sir#2: Yea, it�s in the closet with the rest of my skeletons.
Sir#1: Oh, I should�ve known...my intuition was telling me that you were gonna say that.
Sir#2: But if I hadn�t said it, there would have been nothing for your intuition to tell you.
Sir#1: Quite right...Where do you think intuition comes from?
Sir#2: From fairy tales and 1-800 hotlines.
Sir#1: You don�t believe in intu-
Sir#2: No, I do not. If you don�t believe in ESP, telepathy, of clairvoyance, why would you believe in emotional messages from the future? Furthermore, I don�t see why a femm would have any more of this �intuition� stuff than a masc. Are there intuition dispensers hidden in women�s restrooms?
Sir#1: ...It must be hidden in the estrogen eh?
Sir#2: Another fancy name for common sense...if the house is dead silent and you haven�t seen your kids in an hour, something *must* be up.
