Look Ma, I'm on TV... Again!

In order to add hilarity to my life, I agreed to participate on a game show being filmed for the local cable channel this afternoon. Featuring early 90's pop culture trivia questions, we were quizzed on Clarissa Explains It All, Step by Step, Rugrats, Legends of the Hidden Temple, and Beauty and the Beast.

My teammate, Alice, and I wowed the nonexistent studio audience with our impressively useless knowledge. Carl Winslow's occupation? Police officer! Where did Home Alone take place? Chicago! Who was the referee on Guts? Mo! Who was Miss December in the girls of Bayside calendar? Mr. Belding!

Truthfully, we missed some we shouldn't have as well. The dog from Rugrats is of course Spike. Uncle Jesse's twins are named Alex and... oh, Nicky, duh. The name of Screech's robot? Inexcusably, it's Kevin. Oops.

In spite of some forgetfulness, we still won by a significant margin. (Hopefully, there won't be lawsuits for spoiling the outcome of this highly prestigious show.) Our victory was largely unexpected, considering one of our opponents was in the 90's movie Heavyweights about kids in fat camp, meaning he probably had all sorts of ties to pop culture of the era.

Winning proved a mixed-blessing, however, because it meant us then having to run the obstacle course. Think of a lower budget Double Dare, but no less messy. I had to search for a trinket in a pool full of apple sauce, hula-hoop ten times, sail down a chocolate-covered slip-and-slide, and score a basket with an oversized ball, all while being shot at close range with super-soakers filled with a green slimy substance.

At the end, we just stood there, covered from head to toe in a brownish-greenish coating, not sure how we could drive back to Pitzer in that condition. Then, for the cameras, we had to jump excitedly for an as-yet-undetermined prize that will be given to us at a later point. Regardless, it was extremely fun and an experience not soon forgotten. Way better than The Price Is Right anyway.


Mmm... Stick

Though I've already revealed that I put weird things in my mouth, today I took it too far.

While in a forest, I felt an overwhelming need to connect to nature. For whatever reason, I thought the best way to do so was to eat twigs. Channeling a giraffe, I nibbled sticks straight off of trees. I chewed them, swallowed them, and everything. Now I have splinters in my mouth.



Roller Derby

Tonight was Art Collective's Roller Derby. With crazily dressed people on roller skates, rollerblades, skateboards, bicycles, and toy cars wheeling around the center of campus in one big, bizarre love-fest, it's times like these that make me happy to be at Pitzer.

Cecilia recently came into an electronic wheelchair, which she agreed to lend us for the festivities. Given that the chair is too heavy to lift, our only option was to walk to her house and ride it back to campus. Andrew sat in it; we discovered that no matter how much you try to alter your posture, in that chair, you're always going to look like Stephen Hawkings. As he operated the chair, gleefully honking the horn for passersby, I held on to the back handles, cruising behind while on roller skates. We were a sight to be seen, even though people had to do their best not to stare. As ridiculous as we looked, with the wheelchair, the possibility of us being legitimately disabled, particularly on a mental level, made laughter too politically incorrect. On our way to school, Andrew suggested we go through Scripps campus to “pick up chicks.” For this portion, I sat on his lap, and together we smiled at all of the sunbathing beauties. Based on the amount of phone numbers we obtained, it must be true what they say: women love two guys in a wheelchair.

Above: Andrew pulls Laki. Photo by Colin.



San Francisco found photos rule:

Why do I love thee, photo? Let me count the ways.
1) The loving hand holding
2) The height difference which the photographer tries to obscure by tilting the camera (notice the angle of the horizon)
3) The height difference which is still evident, as emphasized by the angle of the powerlines as well as the taller person being on the higher surface
4) The person on the right's yellow shorts are nearly up to her breasts
5) The person on the left's purple footware
6) Though you cannot tell from this scan job, someone has scratched furiously over the couple's hands, indicating that this relationship probably did not end well



Here's another glamorous photo I obtained while in San Francisco.

Q: What does a pirate say when a steering wheel is attached to his balls?
A: Arrrrrr, you're driving me nuts.


I'm Back

Raise your hand if you thought I was dead.

Sorry for abandoning you, needy friends, but I have less than a month until my thesis rough draft is due, and I've made a rule with myself that any day I do significant writing for it, I take the day off from blogging, hence my absence.

This past week, I had a video project due. Though I thought I was prepared, apparently, in production, some audio files got crossed and the narration I had prepared was replaced with a Chinese woman speaking in broken English about acupuncture. While initially amusing, this problem led to a few-hour-long ordeal of trying to remedy the situation to no avail. No matter how many times the computer promised not to play the Chinese woman when I burned the piece to DVD, it still came out with the same incorrect audio.

After class, I chose to listen to my film with the new narration to see if it might be entertaining in a new way. Unfortunately, she is one of the most boring people to ever be recorded. Her dad was a dentist, so she wanted to be a dentist, but her dad wanted her to be an acupuncturist instead, so she did that so as not to upset her father. It doesn't get much more interesting than that.

When playing it back for Andrew, he exclaimed, "I know that woman!" Initially, I gave him one of those incredulous glares, but as it turns out, while studying abroad in China, he also interviewed this same doctor about Eastern medicine. This may not be Disney World, but it is a small world after all.


Arrested Development

"Arrested Development" stole my idea! Tobias rented out the Queen Mary for the Bluth family's shindig in the season (and most likely series) finale.

In all seriousness, I only wish I could legitimately flatter myself in thinking the best show on television ever would take an idea from me. Last night's four episodes provided me with more laughter in a two hour span than I even knew possible.

I have nothing humorous to contribute to this post. If you want humor, obtain copies of this show on DVD and you will be satisfied for a lifetime. Plus, it's TV, so you don't have to read!



Remember the racist Women's Center Party? Well, they went with the red theme after all. Last night, Lacey, Andrew, Amelia, and I put lipstick on our face to protest or be offensive or something of that nature.

Despite our intention of raising a stink, no one called us on our war paint. No one stands up for the Native Americans, I tell ya.

Karma struck this morning, however, when I failed to remember to wash the lipstick off my face. I had forgotten to the previous night, and waking up this morning, not being the type to give myself a look over in the mirror, I proceeded to go to a morning meeting and lunch oblivious to my appearance. It's one thing to be purposely offensive to make a statement at an event. It's another entirely to continue wearing the paint the next day while going about your normal schedule. Oops. Time to walk that Trail of Tears.



So after years of wearing my
Kazaam backpack, Alex finally convinced me it was time to see the movie and not be such a fake. Being cheap, rather than going to a video rental store, I obtained the film from a public liberry a few towns away. Thank you, La Verne Public Liberry, for sharing this cinematic masterpiece with your residents, as well as those from neighboring towns.

Before I knew it, the event turned into a spectacle. During a planning session for which I was not present, it was decided that we would rent out the auditorium to screen the movie and invite everyone from school to join us. Imagine my surprise when I found the following email, sent to the entire student body:

Dear Pitzer,
   Tonight, Kevin [Last name here] will be showing "Kazaam!" in Avery Auditorium at about 11 pm.  Bring your friends and family.
The skinny:
Avery Auditorium, 11 pm.
Bring your friends.
Free & conveniently timed to start after the Women's Center party.
   The low-down:
"It's Shaq-a-licious".  It's a movie starring Shaquille O'neil as a rapping genie.  What more can be said?  An ancient rapping genie.  Including my favorite scene where a kid wishes for candy up to the sky, but it's all one brand.  It's product placement.  I think they're Skittles."
  - Alex, Holden Hall
 - Amelia, Mead Hall

And yes, the email included that picture embedded in it, meaning it probably killed everyone's mailbox size limits immediately. Oh well. My friends are funny.

Unfortunately, the projector wouldn't show a VHS tape properly, so Kazaam was unable to be screened. Surprisingly, a few random people had shown up, so it was a bit disappointing to let them down. Fortunately, we showed the first five chapters of R. Kelly's Trapped in the Closet instead, much to the delight of the masses. Oh, R. Kelly, sometimes you're all right when you're not peeing on teenagers.


Gucci Gucci Coo

Two quotes from Professor Enid:

"That's like beating a dead horse with another dead horse."

"Oops. I almost tripped on your Gucci slipper. [after regaining her composure] Wow, it's an honor to be tripped by a Gucci slipper."


The White Party

Last semester, the Women’s Center threw a “Red Party” to celebrate menstruation and other girly things. This semester, the group decided to take on a new theme and have a “White Party.” But once you start flyering and sending out invitations for a “White Party,” particularly on a progressive campus, people start to get offended. Apparently, celebrating whiteness can be construed as a racial issue, regardless of the intention.

After receiving complaints, the Women’s Center, not looking to be renamed to the Women’s Klan, changed the theme to the “Off-White Party.” Still, people were offended because they now believed the party to be about people of non-Caucasian descent, which is also unacceptable, even though the school regularly funds Black, Latino, and Asian student groups.

If there’s a lesson to be learned from this mess, it’s that you can’t bring up the color white ever. Just pretend it doesn’t exist, you racist. Left without a theme, the Women’s Center has decided to resurrect last semester’s uncontroversial Red Party theme. Ah, the Red Party, something on which we can all agree. I’m going to wear my best feathered headdress and call corn “maize.”


Ice Skating

This past weekend, Alice asked if I wanted to go ice skating with her. At first I wasn’t sure if I did, but then I went the old “South Park” route and asked myself, What would Brian Boitano do? Well, that’s a no brainer – he’d ice skate - so I went.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the overwhelming number of children. 80% of the people there were under the age of ten, and at any given point 20% were sprawled out on the ice. Initially, I thought I’d just be skating around in circles, but it was instantly an obstacle course, trying to avoid fallen children. I felt like I was on a battlefield, doing my best to march forward as people beside me dropped to their knees. Hearing the screams, I had to push forward, ignoring the wounded. At one point, a kid half my size knocked me over after hitting me hard from behind, skating off as though nothing had happened as I lay facedown on the ice. Such are the casualties of war.

Experiencing that terror, I’m changing my stance on figure skating: It’s a rough sport. There’s pain, blood, and tears. Though everyone tends to demonize Tonya Harding for the Nancy Kerrigan incident, it seems to me that she was playing by the same rules that everyone else does while on skates.


A Special Discovery

In case yesterday wasn't enough of a hint, I tend to dabble in the inappropriate.

At the Goodwill store, I make a discovery: a red t-shirt with the following image:

It's horrible! It's tasteless! I want it! There is one obstacle, though. Goodwill employs several mentally disabled individuals, and one such person is currently operating the register. I can't buy this shirt under these circumstances, can I? Apparently, I can, though I hate myself a little bit for doing so.

As you might expect, I've been getting mixed reactions about the shirt. "Isn't that wrong?" one person asked. Certainly it could be, but I think it's all in the interpretation. "Special kids are my business" could mean so many things, you'd have to assume the worst of me to get upset. And really, that's just unfair.



Shortly before dinnertime, the electricity went out on campus. Hoping we'd find a warm meal elsewhere, about ten of us proceeded to Harvey Mudd's cafeteria, only to discover it, too, did not have power. Deciding to stay anyway, we soon found that the building was so dark that we could barely see the food on our own plates, let alone much of each other. Because of the intense darkness, Ted realized he could start climbing up the walls and playing on the furniture without anyone noticing and took full advantage of the situation. Meanwhile, someone pointed out that we could get naked and no one would be able to tell, which sounded so appealing that Preston and I stripped to our boxers and continued eating the indiscernible items on our plates.

After ten minutes of giggling and realizing that even those at the tables closest to us had no clue what was going on, I decided to up the stakes and throw my boxers at Ted. It took a moment for everyone to grasp that, yes, that meant I was now entirely naked. Ted, who has a right to seek revenge, appropriately places my boxers atop a pillar a few yards away, such that I would have to sprint naked to retrieve them in the line of vision of strangers under the emergency light. While working up the nerve to make the dash, someone commented, "Wouldn't it be funny if the lights came back on?" And wouldn't you know it, not ten seconds later the electricity did return, leaving me sitting bare ass for everyone in the cafeteria to see. Panicking, I froze for a couple seconds before realizing I needed to dive under the table before I made an even larger spectacle of myself. Struggling to shove my clothes back on, I hear the others above the table gasping when they realize that at the table closest to us is a family with a baby. Great. I mean, it's a baby, it's probably too young to know to be scarred for life. Unfortunately, I can't say the same about everybody else.



Me, dryly pitching my video project to my class:

"It's called Dance! With an exclamation point. I might change the name. But I'll probably keep the exclamation point."


Happy Anniversary

Hey! It's my anniversary. Six months of blogging. I've spent the day reflecting back on my posts, and damn, I used to be a lot better at this stuff. Nearly everything I posted in August is long and entertaining; lately, I barely even try. Just look at yesterday's crap. Sorry. I blame school. And meth.

Because I like reminiscing (and because I'm not inspired enough to create new content), I'd like to take a look back at some of the entries my friends have said they've enjoyed the most.

There was the time I crashed a wedding.
The time I discussed homosexual animals with an old person.
The time I obtained a "new" couch.
The time I ate a staple.
The "creepy in the butthole" incident.
The time I learned slang.
The time I explained my middle name.
The time I pretended I was a locksmith.
The time I was no better than Paris Hilton's significant other.
And the time I found my first experience in journalism.