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I went to bed early last night, but here I am awake - not because I'm fully rested and ready to go, oh no. It's because fire ants are apparently holding a convention in my throat.

I was walking through Target when it hit. Right around 4:45 my throat started feeling sore and my nose started running. I'd been fine before that. I've never been able to document the beginning of an illness before, so maybe this will help scientists out and they'll name some awful thing after me.

I took some medicine and I will now try to go back to bed.

Stupid fire ants. 7 comments

Years: 1984-85
Teachers: Miss Appling, Mr. Bicknell, Mrs. Price, Pastor Tanis

Seventh grade is when they started getting us used to the idea of having different teachers for different subjects like we’d have in high school. We stayed in one room and they moved around, which I’m sure was just loads of fun for them.

Miss Appling (you might remember her from First Grade) taught us history and English, and I have a solid memory from each subject. In English, she was teaching us prepositions and was doing so by standing on the desk or in the trashcan. She was already an imposing person, and having her height increased so much the more by the teacher’s desk made for many a wide-eye.

My memory of her world history class is actually from History of Civilization my freshmen year of college (1990-91). Our teacher for that class was … hmm. There’s no nice way to put it. He talked over our heads and was hard to follow, let us say. I remember that on several tests my memories of Miss Appling’s class are what got me a passing grade. To this day I still remember her telling us about Hammurabi and how “ignorance of the law is no excuse.” That made a lasting impression.

Our class went on a field trip to a planetarium and Miss Appling was along as a chaperone. I don’t remember what he was doing or saying, but Matt M. was doing something and Miss Appling reprimanded him and he made some reply and she said, “Where’s your chain?” and her tone suggested she was mocking him quite severely. It was very perplexing at the time, and frankly, after all these years, I still can’t figure out what she meant.

Mrs. Price was new to the area and her son Phil was new to our class this year. She taught speech class, which would turn out to be the only speech class I took until midway through my college career. Mrs. Price’s method of in-class punishment was to make the offender to pushups. As it happened, I was talking in class one day (shocking, I know) and she told me to do 10. I was … chubby in seventh grade, and this was more than I was able to do. Phil told me later that I looked like I was “doing The Worm,” a reference that those of you familiar with breakdancing are more likely to get.

One day we were split up for speech class and I was in a group headed by another teacher. The speech I was working on was about getting rid of a cold, and it included a reference to a theoretical support group whose initials spelled “ACHOO.” The teacher’s comment after I went through it was that I should say that word “more like an actual sneeze.” I knew he was wrong but I didn’t say so since he was only helping temporarily. It set me on a course of “knowing” when I was getting bad suggestions. By this, of course, I mean that thought I was more knowledgeable about some things than those who were trying to instruct me. Not a good place to be, especially as a twelve-year-old.

One assignment we had for speech class was to do a pantomime of something. Most people did things like “baking a cake” or some other similarly mundane task. I did not prepare anything. This is my earliest memory of this sort of behavior, another habit I would carry with me until … well, now, I guess. When asked by classmates, I told them I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I never did actually prepare anything, either. I toyed with an idea or two, but never practiced – which, of course, we were supposed to do. When it came time for me to perform in class for my grade, I gave my title as “Snoopy versus the Red Baron” and proceeded to do a scene based on a dogfight (no pun intended). I remember Mrs. Price laughing a few times and I remember I made a few inadvertent noises (gunfire, most likely), which cost me, grade-wise. I still got a good grade, though, and it taught me two things: 1) I could slack and still do all right, and 2) I liked doing improv, even though I didn’t know that word yet. That first lesson is one that’s stuck with me a long time, to my very great detriment.

One more year of elementary school left, and I’m noticing most of my memories don’t have other people involved. I had friends, I know – in fact, I remember that summers were sad for me, because all my friends lived 30 minutes away and I never saw them. I fell in with a new group of friends in seventh grade that … weren’t so good for me. We were a collective bad influence on each other. I didn’t really figure that out for another two years, though.

Up next: eighth grade, in which it is discovered that at this point in my life, I was not to be trusted with any sort of leadership position.

Labels: school memories

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Latest review here.

A few things to note about this review:

1. It's my first Xbox 360 game review. After all of the store credit I built up turning in past reviewed games, I didn't end paying very much for my 360. That's a good thing, because they're crazy expensive.
2. The game is like six months old. I rented it because I wanted to try it and noticed we didn't have a review, so there that is.
3. This is my first review to use a palindrome in the review.
4. This review also reveals an event from my teenagerhood that has been hidden lo these many years.

Labels: game review

3 comments

So it's the eve of my father's 60th birthday, and what was he doing at 8:00 at night when it was dark and 31° out?

He was climbing up the antenna pole and getting on the roof to hook up the extra lead he needed for the gift we kids got him.

It's what he does.

What was I doing? Holding a flashlight. It's what I do. 3 comments

Tomorrow is, at least for the foreseeable future, the last day I'll be driving a minivan.

It's weird to say that out loud.

...for two reasons:

1) Why am I saying things out loud that I'm typing for my blog? I wish I had an answer for you, but the truth of the matter is, sometimes I say things out loud that I type. You've known me long enough now to not be surprised by this.

2) I've driven a minivan for a long time. Seven years or more.

The first time I ever drove one I really liked how it was bigger than a car (and therefore less claustrophobic) but still drove like a car. So the next time I needed a car, that's what I got. It came in very handy and hauled a lot of people.

When that one was on its last legs, I bought another minivan, off eBay, even. It was a good van at a good price, and I liked it at first. After a while, though, I noticed that it was bigger than the last van by a foot or two, making it even more difficult to park and maneuver. It also wasn't hauling around as many people. I only ever filled it to capacity (7) with people three times. I hauled a lot of stuff in it - turns out having a friend with a minivan that has removable seats is almost as good as having a friend with a pickup truck, if you're the sort of person who needs to move things.

It's been a good van, I just... well, I think I'm done with minivans. I like that I don't feel closed in and I like that I don't have to reach up to drive-thru windows, but other than that, I think I can move on.

Still, it's weird.

So, what will I be driving? I'm not sure yet. I'm going up to Wisconsin this weekend for my dad's 60th birthday and I"m leaving the van with him. He sold it to the daughter of someone he used to work with and started looking for something I could drive back home. When I talked to him earlier he said he'd bought a car, but it wouldn't be ready for me to drive home this weekend.

See, my dad's a mechanic, so pretty much every car I've ever driven is one he's gotten a good price because it "needed work." Some people are nervous about this partuicular method of buying and driving cars, but my dad's a really good mechanic. It's worked out really well. So this car "needs work."

In the meantime, it sounds like I'll be driving Mom's Cadillac. I will be totally stylin'. Oh, yes, I will be stylin' indeed.

I've never worried too much about driving a "cool" car, I guess. The car I'd buy right now this very moment if money were no object? A Pontiac Vibe. In fact, I was leaning in that direction for a good while until I decided it might be better for me to pay off some bills with the money I wouldn't be spending on a car payment. But, as you can see, my taste in cars isn't really driven by coolness - I drive like I dress: comfort over style.

So, goodbye, van. You've been good. But starting this weekend, I'll have to figure out some other way to help people move stuff. 6 comments

Today over at Theater Hopper, Tom's posted the third collaborative effort I've done with Joe (I wrote, he drew). Here's the first one, with my blog about it here. The second one's here, with my blog about it here.

So, in my grand tradition of over-explaining every little thing, here's the breakdown on today's comic:

Panel One:
The picture on the wall is Tony Danza. His inclusion is a THorum in-joke. In the THorum, if you've made a particularly funny post, you might get awarded a "Certified Comedy Gold Danza." If you've made a really good post that isn't necessarily funny, you might get awarded a "Regular Danza." Both are awards for excellence, and both look like an Oscar with Tony Danza's head. They are highly coveted awards, and his inclusion in a collaboration strip has been a long time coming. You can see his signature "A-O, O-A" line in the bottom left part of his picture.

Also in Panel One, Joe put in several little Iron Man figures. This was all his own doing, but it was a great move. Tom's a big Iron Man fan and actually has several Iron Man figures in his computer room, so it works well.

Panel Two:
Not much here, except that's Jack Nicholson on the monitor. The trailer remix is a real thing, and you can watch it here, if you haven't already seen it.

Panel Three:
This was actually the panel the rest of the strip was written around. The "I don't know how to quidditch you" line is something I was hit with a while back, but I never really knew what to do with it. It is, of course, a mashup of Harry Potter and Brokeback Mountain, based off the game Harry plays and the famous line from Brokeback.

Panel Four:
I gave Joe a selection of movies labeled "comedy" that didn't really seem all that funny, and he chose to go with Date Movie, largely because he'd seen it and he didn't think it was funny.

And that's pretty much it. It's like having a director's commentary on a webcomic! It's "behind the scenes" for something that didn't really need any explanation! Woooo!

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the comic. And, while you're here, feel free to read my Snakes on a Plane song, which I seriously plan on recording at some point. Really. 4 comments

Years: 1983-84
Teacher: Miss Westphall

Though this was the first year of officially being in “the other half” of the school, I don’t remember much about it.

I’d heard for years about how tough a teacher Miss Westphall was, and had narrowly missed having her in fourth grade, but we finally caught up with each other this year. She was tough, but more importantly, she had our number. A quick wit coupled with an understanding of how elementary school kids think meant she had an immediate response any time a student asked one of those “What if I…” questions designed to waste class time. She also used the word “moot” a few times, a strange-sounding new-to-us word that always got a few chuckles, but not more than the word “behoove,” as in, “Mr. Zwolanek, it would behoove you to put away that comic book and get out your science book.” Yes, she attached “Mr.” to our names when calling us out, and her intonation while doing so added an extra bit of “you know I’m not fooling around here.” It was kind of like when your mother yells your full name when you’re in trouble, only Miss Westphall rarely yelled.

Miss Westphall and Miss Appling (my brother’s teacher) came to our house to meet our parents one night. It was a standard thing that teachers did back in the day, but it was odd for us because we lived a half hour from school. I remember trying to listen to what they were saying from the top of the stairs and planning escape routes out my second story window should the need arise. I must not have needed to, as I never once climbed out that window.

The biggest memory I have from sixth grade is that every week someone was the “Student of the Week.” They would bring a recipe from home of their favorite treat, and Miss Westphall would make it and bring it on Friday to class. At the end of the year, we put together recipe books from all of the recipes throughout the year. The recipe I brought was for brownies that a lady in our church made. Her name was Mary, so my mom had written “Mary’s Brownies” on the recipe card. In the book at the end of the year, right next to “Oatmeal Raisin Cookies” and “Mississippi Mud Bars” were “Mary’s Brownies.” I was mortified that “my” recipe didn’t have a proper name and felt I should do something about it, but there wasn’t anything I could do. From my vantage point now, I actually like that “Mary’s Brownies” got immortalized in that fashion and it makes me smile. Plus, they were really good brownies.

I remember a failed attempt at smart alecking in sixth grade, too. Miss Westphall was making a comparison to how people didn’t know much about … someone (a pastor? A President?), but everyone knew who Marilyn Monroe was. To be the flipside of that coin, I stuck my hand up and asked, “Who was Marilyn Monroe?” Ha ha, right? I knew who Marilyn Monroe was, but I was proving her wrong! …except not. She went on to explain who Marilyn Monroe was, and I felt stupid. Well played, Miss Westphall. Well played.

That’s all I’ve got from sixth grade. Looking at it, it doesn’t seem like much. Our family visited Washington, D.C., this year, but it’s not technically school-related, so I can’t talk about it.

Seventh grade messed me all kinds of up.

Labels: school memories

2 comments

Even though Sixth Grade wasn't all that exciting, I'm really not avoiding it on purpose. I have every intention of following this series through to 12th Grade.

I have been sick this week with some sort of runny nose/coughing/sneezing/aching thing, and I never know if that's a cold or a flu or what. I didn't cough nearly so much today, but had a sore throat. Staying home from work for a day and a half helped, I think, as I slept a lot. NyQuil, as nasty as it is, does the trick at night, too. About 45 minutes after I take it, I start to have pauses in my speech pattern - "Yes, I believe I will have . . . . . . . . cereal." From inside it's like my brain needs to play catch-up. From outside, it probably just looks like I'm weird or intoxicated or something.

This past weekend, Kat and I took a desk up to Kat's sister Mary in Michigan. Even though I'm tired of driving a minivan, it still comes in handy once in a while. It's like having a truck, but not quite as useful. I just know that the back seats haven't been in it for a long time.

When we got to Lansing, Michigan late Friday night, we met Mary's new friend Sarah. Sarah is Mary's first "townie" friend, meaning "someone who isn't in Lansing to attend Michigan State University." Right off the bat we were given the task of trying to guess what Sarah's two unusual jobs were. After a couple of hints, we sort-of got the first one: a fancy cake maker. You've seen those shows on The Food Network with the statues made out of chocolate and stuff? She does that. Not only that, but she brought fancy cupcakes and chocolates with her and I'm here to tell you: not only were they neat to look at, they were good. Dang good.

Her other job we were never going to guess. For several months a year she works on a "tallship." From what I can tell, those are the ones with all the riggings and crow's nests and whatnot. She goes off sailing for a couple of months at a time and loves it. I didn't even know people did this!

On Sunday afternoon there was a "Chocolate Festival" (I forget the actual name) at MSU, and the bakery Sarah works at (A Piece O' Cake) had a booth and also a fancy cake entered in the "Cakes and Tortes" competition. The theme was "Rain Forest," and this is the cake Sarah made:

And here's a closer look at the tree frog:

And it's all edible! Pretty sweet, huh? Er - no pun intended. Sadly, the judges were wacky on some kind of junk and awarded it 2nd Place, even though it was obviously the coolest cake there. Stupid judges.

The entrance fee for the festival was $30, but Sarah totally hooked us up with free tickets. Either she was really trying to impress us, or she's just cool. I'm inclined to think she's just cool like that. Congratulations, Mary, on finding a cool new friend!

While in Michigan, we also saw a 3D IMAX movie - "Wild Safari 3D" or something. It was pretty cool. 3D movies have gotten so much better over the years. Seeing lions, rhinos, giraffes, leopards, and elephants on a huge screen in 3d was pretty cool.

Couple of new things over on the right side of the page these days. First, a Movie Counter. Last year's Hot Chocolate Counter was fun for me, so I thought I'd follow it up with how many movies I've seen this year. I included last year's count as a measuring stick of sorts, and I try to update this year's count every few days or so. Second, a link to my improv group's web page. The new version just went live earlier this week, so I thought I'd link to it. Oh, and I designed it (with help from Kat), so that's another reason, I guess. I've really fallen out of the webdesign loop. I used to do it as a semi-fulltime job, but it's passed me by. Meh. This one was inspired by Creamsicles, in case you were wondering.

My second character in World of Warcraft, a human rogue, is now Level 42. I throw that out there for anyone who wants to know. My first character, the night elf hunter, is still a Level 60.

I've started replacing the lightbulbs in my apartment with those fancy twisted-up flourescent jobbies. They're expensive, but they're supposed to last for five or more years. I bought a new bed and a sheet set a little while ago, and the sheet set didn't look like the color it was. Someone (Matt) suggested that the current lightbulbs were "yellow" and that was causing the problem. Since I was going to replace the bulbs, I thought I'd give these fancy things a try. Sure enough, my bedset looks like the right color (olive green) now, so I guess that's cool.

Dala's been sick lately and, while I feel bad for her, I don't like cleaning up after sick kitties. Blech.

My dad turns 60 this month. It makes sense, I guess. I mean, that's what people do, it just seems like an odd number. He doesn't seem like a 60-year-old to me. Maybe it's because I don't seem like an almost-34-year-old to me. His birthday's March 19, so mark that on your calendars. I'll be in Wisconsin that weekend.

I think that's about all the odds and ends for now. Thanks for stopping by today. Be well!


(Note: I've taken to saying "Be well" to people lately. Oddly enough, it comes from the Sylvester Stallone movie Demolition Man, and it's meant to be a silly thing that the peaceful future people say. I like it, though. It's like "take care!" but it's more of a "I want things to be good for you without you having to actually pursue it" type thing. Anyway, if I say it to you (and I just did), please understand that I mean it for real and not ironically.)

Labels: apropos of nothing

4 comments