All right, so ESPN has a new TV-movie that they’re advertising starring Tom Berenger. The advertisement features critics’ quotes, and among them is “…his steeliest glares since Platoon…” —Dallas Morning News
Come on, that’s very funny.
All posts by Lucas
The makings of a new racial stereotype
This afternoon on the train, I witnessed a fully decked-out banger type eating baby carrots out of a plastic baggie.
It was adorable.
Eleven eleven, again
Eleven eleven on eleven eleven! Again!
Eleven eleven
Eleven eleven on eleven eleven! Eleven eleven on eleven eleven!
Technically
Chelsea B.: tomorrow is my birthday!
lucahack: tomorrow the 11th?
Chelsea B.: the tenth
Chelsea B.: well…technically
Chelsea B.: today is my birthday
lucahack: today is the tenth!
Chelsea B.: cause it’s after midnight
lucahack: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Chelsea B.: thanks!
Chelsea B.: i’m old
Chelsea B.: 271
Chelsea B.: NO.
lucahack: that’s so old
Chelsea B.: 27
lucahack: that’s not as old
Who dem?
Who are all these strange-looking people?
Well, most of them are my fellow design students. See more pictures of them here.
Can you find me? Hint: I am not the one dressed as Olive Oyl.
Condition: craptastic
I’m down to 20% brainpower! Alert! Alert! MY HEAD GONNA ‘SPLODE!
I probably need a girlfriend or something.
Wait, no I don’t. What a ridiculous idea! To clutter up my already mismanaged life with notions of love and romance and adequate lubrication. As if I weren’t distracted enough! And I would suddenly have to start putting thought into my appearance. And probably I would be obligated to start caring about other people in general and their interests. Who needs the grief? Oh, and what if she nags? What if she wants to set guidelines I have to follow? If she wants me to «shudder» improve myself? What a needless complication of my life that would be!
Oh, but the girls… the girls is pretty…
Why my brain is broken
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would like to submit that my brain has been broken for nearly two months now. My thoughts have all been rigid and non-verbal. The process of putting words together is even a little nauseating.
It is worth noting, though, that my brain has kind of taken a beating lately. Let’s go back over the details. July was a fairly productive month for me, so we’ll start there, saying that my brain was operating at about 90% functionality (that would be 90% of the one-tenth of our brains that we humans use), and assess the damage I have taken in the interim.
Early July:
Internet girls visiting from out of town for comic convention leads to traumatic experience on my part. (87%)
Late July:
A self-imposed cessation of the ingestion of various prescribed materials for longstanding medical conditions due to possible negative side effects. (80%)
Early August:
Trip to West Coast broadens horizons, results in unhappiness with current life. (78%)
Realization that starting school means I’m stuck in Chicago for three more years. (77%)
Weeklong separation from cat. (74%)
Mid-August:
Appearance of large painful furuncle on chin and accompanying symptoms, including flulike nose and throat issues and mentally crippling inner ear pain. (64%)
Furuncle and symptoms linger for at least three weeks. (60%)
Meanwhile, preparations to leave work and return to school continue. (55%)
Late August:
Last day of work, accompanied by struggle to try to get as much done as possible during last week. (52%)
No break between work and school. (51%)
School begins, shattering every iota of self-confidence in intelligence and talent, not to mention sending social skills back into gutter. (41%)
Much like college the first time around. (40%)
September:
Notable largely for daily bouts of crushing self-doubt. (37%)
Furuncle finally goes away. (39%)
Organizing a move into a new apartment begins. (37%)
October:
Move is executed. (35%)
Unpacking begins. (34%)
School workload increases suddenly, resulting in disruption of already volatile sleep patterns. (31%)
At worst, three sleepless nights in a one-week period. (27%)
Crushing self-doubt continues. (25%)
November:
NaNoWriMo begins. For some reason, I have registered again. I then cheerfully begin revising the layout of my website. My brain is broken.
Is it any wonder I can’t think lately? Can’t think, can barely string sentences together when I speak, can’t write anything down without some form of agony. That is probably why I signed up to write a novel again this year – to force the gears turning again. Of course, if those gears don’t want to move, there’s a chance I could strip them completely. And in this analogy I’m not sure what happens to me if this happens, but it certainly can’t be good. But this is what I do, and for some reason, I am choosing to continue doing it in the face of this.
Cover me. I’m going in.
Realization
I am sexy.
Snipe hunt
I apologize for not posting much lately. It’s because of the sniper.
Which sniper, you ask? The one that’s been in the news lately. Killing people one by one over in Maryland or Delaware or some such state, with one of those really, really long rifles that can shoot very far, and with deadly accuracy.
In fact, I read somewhere that the rifles are so long that the sniper actually shot the people from a good two states away. They were small states, of course, being in the east. Nevertheless, it is not much of a stretch to presume that the sniper will soon have access to a rifle which can hit the midwest from the east coast.
I have been afraid to leave my house, lest I immediately be shot in the head. From what I gather, this has been the reaction of the vast majority of Chicago residents. No one has been outside for weeks. The exhausted local news teams haven’t left the studios since Day One of this tragic misadventure began. A great many people have put bulletproof screens in their windows. I am not sure where they got them, since they haven’t been outside, and presumably all deliverymen feel too open to attack and are lobbying for doors on their trucks before they resume their duties. But up the bulletproof screens have gone.
Little do those people know that sniper bullets are not ordinary bullets. They are really more like mutant superbullets, able to pierce just about anything, including heads and bulletproof screens.
In an effort to protect myself, I have enclosed my head in a block of steel. The steel is just thick enough that any sniper bullet will only cause minor damage. In the meantime, I haven’t been able to lift my head off the ground. This is why I have not been able to post.
See? It all adds up. Snipers!
However, I have figured out a way to thwart the sniper. When he’s not looking, I’m going to grab the barrel of his rifle, which I presume I will find protruding around some corner or other, and I will, with the help of some firearms engineers that I just happen to have been friends with from childhood, extend the barrel of the rifle until it is so long that any bullet fired will simply go all the way around the world and smack the sniper in the back of the head.
It’s a thought.
Hey jerk
You don’t own me. I’m not one of your many toys.
So doooooooooon’t tell me what to do,
And doooooooooon’t tell me what to say,
And pleeeeeeease when I go out with you,
Doooooooon’t put me on display,
etc.
Where? Here.
When? Now.
What? No idea.
Double super susp’d
The suspendment of dailyheytion continues. News to come…
They done wed
Congratulations to the Lucubus’s very own Vince and his new bride Sara!
Suspendarama
Quit staring at my tits!
Crickets
All right, so maybe I didn’t turn 27…