1. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome David Spade!"

    It is, a decade and a half later, still inextricably linked.

     
  2. Plays: 28

    _Documentation of a Treasury of Very Short MP3 Files_
    (Part A of Aª)

    Length: 13 seconds
    Audio: [A Wake-up Call from Mr. Stephen Fry]
    Propriety: It may be masked by the accent, but still subtly not for everyone.
    Use: I believe maybe in the early 2000’s, (I was surely still a grad student,) instead of buying the proper clock this was from, I snagged the audio and dumped it into some software as the alarm.

     
  3. Plays: 68

    (136 seconds)

    The ambient noise in my memory palace at some point became primarily podcasts, but—every once in a while—I’ll hear something that sounds like it could have been part of a quick swell of horns and have a half-formed thought* that is located in a very specific and a very cluttered corner, and then I can literally feel myself being swept up by a tiny tempest of obsession

    It usually passes eventually.

    It’s probably for the best. I pretty much never sweep.  

    *While they are kind of distinguishable, I feel that at this point I don’t know enough to accurately identify the 16. 

     
  4. "…maybe there’s a little man in there who looks just like you, but he’s really good at running."

    Maybe I’m just going through a crass phase (phase being defined as “relatively consistently, albeit mostly on the sly, for…the past 2 decades”)?  That pull quote is my favorite part, but this scene was the first thing to come to mind in describing the grossness and frisson of blisters.

     
  5. Plays: 26

    A scant 80 episodes later, Punk Rock Davy emerges and explains John’s confusion with what still might have been off brand “Emmanuelle”. 

    Like organic chemistry.

     
  6. Introductory coursework for a degree of Mastery of Management in Hospitality (MMH) at The Scat Academy School of Hotel Administration is probably as inscrutable as one would imagine.

    I’m a pretty rigorous note taker and all I’ve got here is:
    "SUMMARY: Hamburger hamburger! Bang bang!"

     
  7. image: Download

    
Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.

No foolin’, YGM bookends most movie playlists because I will always eventually fall asleep and I like the occasional dream voice overs by Tom Hanks.

    Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.

    No foolin’, YGM bookends most movie playlists because I will always eventually fall asleep and I like the occasional dream voice overs by Tom Hanks.

     
  8. Plays: 29

    This SoBe turn-of-the century ad campaign audio dump train stops here. Just because I only had these. I’m sure you’re very excited. Who knows what adventures tomorrow will bring? Always another obsession, another train: it’s a blessing and a curse.

     
  9. Plays: 29

    And there’s always a place for the angry young man
    With his fist in the air and his head in the sand
    And he’s never been able to learn from mistakes
    So he can’t understand why his heart always breaks
    And is honor is pure, and his courage as well
    And he’s fair and he’s true, and he’s boring as hell
    And he’ll go to his grave as an angry old man.

    I ran into a former gentleman caller type earlier in the week and was tempted to suggest a friendly and perhaps instructive theme song for him, but no one seems to like WMJ as much as I do, though even I will admit that the laser-keyboard interlude in AYM is maybe a little over the top.

    FGCT looks like he could have used a little less being an angry guy and a little more drinking angry guys in the duration between when we last saw each other and now, but the little part of me—the vindictive (and maybe a skosh mean) corner of my lower intestines, where I occasionally keep stinky passing thoughts, kinda felt pretty solid about our present fortunes, given likely improving sorts of trajectories on all sides. I mean, I hope there’s at least a sort of pedagogy to discomforts.  Anyhow. 

     
  10. Plays: 19

    "what happened to your love handles, darling?"

    The impulse to ask weird and awkward questions mid-cuddle is probably better than the impulse to bypass hugs via ill-timed, too-close handshakes, right? I wouldn’t know, I am the worst with the handshake impulse. I recently literally said “good game” midshake, as opposed to ANYTHING remotely resemblant of what someone who might have had any scant reproductive notions would have said. Or anyone with an even barely functional grasp of social mores. “Pull it together”, I thought. “This is how the Idiocracy flourishes.” But no. This is the way the world ends; this is the way the world ends; this is the way the world ends—2 out of 10; would not bang.

     
  11. Plays: 20

    2014SciCon1D3: So Very Tired.

    (N.B., “Crazy Sexy Tiger” was probably my favorite of all the TLC albums.)

     
  12. Plays: 19

    …Do you ever feel you’ve become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora’s box of all the secret, hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone upsets you and instead of smiling and moving on, you zing them. “Hello, it’s Mr* Nasty.” I’m sure you have no idea what I’m talking about.

    (*2014SC1D2; Dr. Nasty, if you’re Janet. No kitten in this conference bag either. *frowny face*.)

     
  13. Plays: 20

    2014 Science Conference 1, Day 1:
    Numerous close calls for coltish* lady scientists walking around wearing heels clearly not worn since their last professional outing.

    *I am clearly the wobbliest of all those evincing foalishness. Not because my legs aren’t strong, but I don’t have a history of the best ankles either. Anyhow, there are enough postural benefits to persevere. And I will work a 3 inch psychological advantage over normal me like some manner of alfalfa-loving warrior scientist princess.

     
  14. Plays: 30

    The other day I dumped an old manual back-up hard drive onto my computer which led to the reacquainting of myself with (literally among 10000 other things) artifacts of the curious tastes of a turn-of-the-century ME.

    *Fact*:
    She loved (with the awkward judgement-free adoration of a child of the whole world) both questionable accents and the most ridiculous radio commercials.

     
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    On any given day—due to the litany of date, holiday, and seasonal exclusions (red)—if the caller ID says "Stevie Wonder" and you jokily answer “Are you just calling to say you love me?”, a self-consistent answer would be "no" some 77⁺ % of the time.
The “no” could be to a variety of sub-components of that query, though: maybe there is other pressing business, not JUST declarations of love; maybe it is a wrong number, even if he does love you it wasn’t his intention to call or say it; maybe it’s butt-dialing season, there’s been an uptick in that, sure; and, yeah, maybe he doesn’t love you. But maybe it wouldn’t’ve worked out anyway, even if you’d gotten really good at reading braille. 
Good news: you’re maybe still pretty okay at reading braille.(That puts you a good couple steps ahead of Henry Bemis)

    On any given day—due to the litany of date, holiday, and seasonal exclusions (red)—if the caller ID says "Stevie Wonder" and you jokily answer “Are you just calling to say you love me?”, a self-consistent answer would be "no" some 77⁺ % of the time.

    The “no” could be to a variety of sub-components of that query, though: maybe there is other pressing business, not JUST declarations of love; maybe it is a wrong number, even if he does love you it wasn’t his intention to call or say it; maybe it’s butt-dialing season, there’s been an uptick in that, sure; and, yeah, maybe he doesn’t love you. But maybe it wouldn’t’ve worked out anyway, even if you’d gotten really good at reading braille.

    Good news: you’re maybe still pretty okay at reading braille.
    (That puts you a good couple steps ahead of Henry Bemis)