Bulls lost.
Tsumani was bummed.
5/28/11
5/19/11
Natural Germ Killing
Still hammering out the beats of this camera phone.
Please excuse me while I work it out.
5/18/11
Upward Mobility (Beta)
Went to hang out with Brandon Vlknt last night.
Brandon and I met when we were 13-years old.
The two of us went to see Clark, Ben, and Cory.
Cory & Ben have the job that I would have if I had my druthers, which is running a vintage clothing store. They operate exclusively online, which is probably the only manageable way to do it. Lately, I've been flirting with the idea of opening a thrift store that sells clothes that I tailor down to modern fits. The biggest hurdle I can't seem to clear is the price. I can't find a way to cover the expenses of the store, charge a reasonable price for the clothes, and have enough to pay myself anything more than minimum wage. But maybe I'll just do what Cory & Ben do and keep it online.
Brandon and I met when we were 13-years old.
The two of us went to see Clark, Ben, and Cory.
Cory & Ben have the job that I would have if I had my druthers, which is running a vintage clothing store. They operate exclusively online, which is probably the only manageable way to do it. Lately, I've been flirting with the idea of opening a thrift store that sells clothes that I tailor down to modern fits. The biggest hurdle I can't seem to clear is the price. I can't find a way to cover the expenses of the store, charge a reasonable price for the clothes, and have enough to pay myself anything more than minimum wage. But maybe I'll just do what Cory & Ben do and keep it online.
5/17/11
Upward Mobility (Test Version)
Finally got a smart photo. Now all I need is a smart car, smart water, smart cocktail, and a law job involving smart grids. Since I still haven't gotten my broken camera fixed (and possibly never will), I'm hoping the this smart camera will suffice.
11/11/10
No Idea
Officially got me Esq.
Afterwards, we went to Chinatown for lunch.
Coincidentally, I ran in to Mike Mkngs at Rock Bottom that night. He was with this girl:
I bought this camera about 4-days ago and it got sat on that night. This was the last photo it took:
Afterwards, we went to Chinatown for lunch.
Coincidentally, I ran in to Mike Mkngs at Rock Bottom that night. He was with this girl:
I bought this camera about 4-days ago and it got sat on that night. This was the last photo it took:
10/10/10
Uncle Bill
My Uncle Bill’s dying. He has brain cancer. I guess he’s known about it for awhile but didn’t say anything until he had a stroke a couple weeks ago. The doctor said he only has 2-weeks, and that was 2-weeks ago. Recently, my mom, my grandmother, and her brother, Un-Chuck, went to San Francisco to see him for the last time. That is, my Uncle Bill was visited in the hospital, one last time, by his sister, his mother, and his uncle, and all parties new it would be the last time they would ever all be together because one of them was going to be dead in a few days.
It must’ve been weird.
I wonder what they talked about. I wonder if it felt like if it was the end and everything was consequential or if it was boring and frivolous and seemed to go on longer than it needed to like most family get-togethers, or really like most human interactions. The worst part is that he didn’t die while they were there. They said their goodbyes and got a plane and he stayed there waiting to die by himself.
I could probably count on both hands the number of times I remember seeing my Uncle. He’s a total weirdo, and not in the fun jokey Bill Murray way. More in the Todd Solondz character way, which makes me uncomfortable because Uncle Bill and I look a lot alike. I saw a picture of him right before he shipped off to Vietnam and he looked exactly like me. It makes me uncomfortable because I sometimes feel about myself the way I feel about him. Or I atleast believe that people see in me what I see in him, which is just a disconcerting loner. A guy that does unexplained things and is so far gone into himself, the most simple human interactions come off as clanky and uneasy. He lies a lot and it’s painfully obvious, and when I lie, I feel like it’s being perceived the same way. When people aren’t calling me out on my untruth, it’s not because I’m so good at misleading them, it’s because they pity me like I pity him.
UPDATE: Uncle Bill's dead
It must’ve been weird.
I wonder what they talked about. I wonder if it felt like if it was the end and everything was consequential or if it was boring and frivolous and seemed to go on longer than it needed to like most family get-togethers, or really like most human interactions. The worst part is that he didn’t die while they were there. They said their goodbyes and got a plane and he stayed there waiting to die by himself.
I could probably count on both hands the number of times I remember seeing my Uncle. He’s a total weirdo, and not in the fun jokey Bill Murray way. More in the Todd Solondz character way, which makes me uncomfortable because Uncle Bill and I look a lot alike. I saw a picture of him right before he shipped off to Vietnam and he looked exactly like me. It makes me uncomfortable because I sometimes feel about myself the way I feel about him. Or I atleast believe that people see in me what I see in him, which is just a disconcerting loner. A guy that does unexplained things and is so far gone into himself, the most simple human interactions come off as clanky and uneasy. He lies a lot and it’s painfully obvious, and when I lie, I feel like it’s being perceived the same way. When people aren’t calling me out on my untruth, it’s not because I’m so good at misleading them, it’s because they pity me like I pity him.
UPDATE: Uncle Bill's dead
10/8/10
Proud Black Woman
So you may have noticed a drop-off in posts. This can primarily be attributed to the terminal state of my Samsung Digimax U-CA5. The camera was a present from Christmas 2004. As you can probably tell from the lineage that appears on some of my photos, it’s been on the fritz for awhile. Very recently, it passed into a comatose state. So until I get a replacement, shit on Just Fronts will be slowed down.
However, in non-visual news, I recently found out that I passed the Illinois State Bar exam, and (supposedly) will be sworn in as a licensed attorney in about a month.
I’m not going to lie; I did not think I was going to pass. About a week after sitting for the exam, I put my odds of passing at 42%. That number incrementally decreased the further away from July 28th I got. In fact, days ago, I was dreading incoming mail (electronic and conventional) because I was convinced a notice of tragic news was waiting for me. In the back of my mind, I was mounting a strategy for when and how I would retake, or if I was even going to bother to retake, the exam. Actually, this feeling has yet to cease. I remain fearful that the State of Illinois will change their mind and send a retraction letter.
But I did try really hard to pass. I (hopefully) will never work that hard, for that long of a period of time, ever again. I mean, not only was Summer 2010 completely annulled, it was sorrowful and laborious. Like you don’t even know. It’s like I don’t even know. Think about what it felt like when you made out with a really beautiful woman. Remember exactly how it felt. Can you remember the exact way her lips felt on yours? Or particularly, how extraordinarily magnificent that feeling was. And what that huge rush of endorphins was like? Really try to remember that feeling. Try to put yourself back there.
You can’t!
It was a feeling that memories can only recreate so much of. The rest only existed in that moment, and you will never be able to experience it again unless you kiss a different, equally (or possibly more) beautiful woman. That’s how studying for the bar was. Only instead of extremely sexy and pleasurable, it was heartrending and oppressive. It shaved about 5-years off my life.
On the other hand, it’s something that thousands of other young law school graduates had to contend with this summer, and something thousands of other young law school students have had to contend with for dozens of summers before, and they all survived. But I imagine there will come a time, maybe in my lifetime, when bar associations across the nation see fit to suspend the bar exam. It already (sorta) happened in Minnesota. It’s just way too tortuous, and honestly, I don’t remember anything I “learned” from BARBRI. I don’t remember anything from law school. That’s probably why I’ll’ never be a lawyer.
However, in non-visual news, I recently found out that I passed the Illinois State Bar exam, and (supposedly) will be sworn in as a licensed attorney in about a month.
I’m not going to lie; I did not think I was going to pass. About a week after sitting for the exam, I put my odds of passing at 42%. That number incrementally decreased the further away from July 28th I got. In fact, days ago, I was dreading incoming mail (electronic and conventional) because I was convinced a notice of tragic news was waiting for me. In the back of my mind, I was mounting a strategy for when and how I would retake, or if I was even going to bother to retake, the exam. Actually, this feeling has yet to cease. I remain fearful that the State of Illinois will change their mind and send a retraction letter.
But I did try really hard to pass. I (hopefully) will never work that hard, for that long of a period of time, ever again. I mean, not only was Summer 2010 completely annulled, it was sorrowful and laborious. Like you don’t even know. It’s like I don’t even know. Think about what it felt like when you made out with a really beautiful woman. Remember exactly how it felt. Can you remember the exact way her lips felt on yours? Or particularly, how extraordinarily magnificent that feeling was. And what that huge rush of endorphins was like? Really try to remember that feeling. Try to put yourself back there.
You can’t!
It was a feeling that memories can only recreate so much of. The rest only existed in that moment, and you will never be able to experience it again unless you kiss a different, equally (or possibly more) beautiful woman. That’s how studying for the bar was. Only instead of extremely sexy and pleasurable, it was heartrending and oppressive. It shaved about 5-years off my life.
On the other hand, it’s something that thousands of other young law school graduates had to contend with this summer, and something thousands of other young law school students have had to contend with for dozens of summers before, and they all survived. But I imagine there will come a time, maybe in my lifetime, when bar associations across the nation see fit to suspend the bar exam. It already (sorta) happened in Minnesota. It’s just way too tortuous, and honestly, I don’t remember anything I “learned” from BARBRI. I don’t remember anything from law school. That’s probably why I’ll’ never be a lawyer.
9/20/10
Please don't be gentle with me
The Cabaret was pretty alright.
But I don’t know why the fuck I keep going back to The Crocodile. I suppose because it’s thoughtless. It’s become a go to spot eventhough I don’t want it to be and there are far better places within greater proximity. It’s become like a shitty booty call that always leaves me unsatisfied when it’s over. But then again, maybe it is in fact satisfying, since I don’t want to go there anymore when I leave.
Kevin “Yogen Fruz” Wndr said he would buy a round after two back-to-back nights of me flipping the bill. After ordering and the bartender informing him that there was a $15 minimum on cards, he deferred to my Bank of America checking account.
We only got two cans of P.B.R. before we decided to leave, so I was left with $8 that needed to be spent before I could get my card back. I told The Crocodile bartender to wow me. $8 + tip for him to go nuts. Anything he wanted to make me, as long as it didn’t involve gin. What I imagine would be a bartender’s ideal drink request after a night of popping the tops on domestic tall boys. So what did I get for $8? What concoction of spirited delights did the imaginative bartender come up with for me to imbibe? A shot of Jameson’s mixed with about 10oz of soda water.
I should have thrown the drink in the fucker’s face.
I don’t understand why you would become a bartender if that was the best you could do. I mean, it’s not like you’re a janitor. Bartender is probably the second oldest profession, and it’s highly sought after by males in their 20s to 30s. Yes, your earning potential peaks about 20-days into the job, but you’re respected. And I’ve always surmised that it’s a position that draws in a significant amount of tail. I mean, girls are paying you to get them drunk. If I were to associate a numerical figure with the percentage of all the girls I’ve ever had any sort of physical romantic encounter with who were drunk at the time, it would probably be just over 100%.
Plus even in 2010, thousands of years after the invention of booze, people are still exploring unchartered territory with libations. Open the NY Times on any given Wednesday (or is it Sunday?) and there will be a new cocktail that was just invented. And that’s been every Wednesday (possibly Sunday) for the last 50-years. This shit breather couldn’t have searched the archives and made one of those? For fuck sakes, 2-ingredients isn’t even technically a cocktail.
Yelp is going to hear about this.
But I don’t know why the fuck I keep going back to The Crocodile. I suppose because it’s thoughtless. It’s become a go to spot eventhough I don’t want it to be and there are far better places within greater proximity. It’s become like a shitty booty call that always leaves me unsatisfied when it’s over. But then again, maybe it is in fact satisfying, since I don’t want to go there anymore when I leave.
Kevin “Yogen Fruz” Wndr said he would buy a round after two back-to-back nights of me flipping the bill. After ordering and the bartender informing him that there was a $15 minimum on cards, he deferred to my Bank of America checking account.
We only got two cans of P.B.R. before we decided to leave, so I was left with $8 that needed to be spent before I could get my card back. I told The Crocodile bartender to wow me. $8 + tip for him to go nuts. Anything he wanted to make me, as long as it didn’t involve gin. What I imagine would be a bartender’s ideal drink request after a night of popping the tops on domestic tall boys. So what did I get for $8? What concoction of spirited delights did the imaginative bartender come up with for me to imbibe? A shot of Jameson’s mixed with about 10oz of soda water.
I should have thrown the drink in the fucker’s face.
I don’t understand why you would become a bartender if that was the best you could do. I mean, it’s not like you’re a janitor. Bartender is probably the second oldest profession, and it’s highly sought after by males in their 20s to 30s. Yes, your earning potential peaks about 20-days into the job, but you’re respected. And I’ve always surmised that it’s a position that draws in a significant amount of tail. I mean, girls are paying you to get them drunk. If I were to associate a numerical figure with the percentage of all the girls I’ve ever had any sort of physical romantic encounter with who were drunk at the time, it would probably be just over 100%.
Plus even in 2010, thousands of years after the invention of booze, people are still exploring unchartered territory with libations. Open the NY Times on any given Wednesday (or is it Sunday?) and there will be a new cocktail that was just invented. And that’s been every Wednesday (possibly Sunday) for the last 50-years. This shit breather couldn’t have searched the archives and made one of those? For fuck sakes, 2-ingredients isn’t even technically a cocktail.
Yelp is going to hear about this.
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