Tuesday night after connection group, I was catching a ride home with one of the guys. I tried to open the passenger door, but it was frozen shut. So naturally, I took off my left glove and tried again with my right hand. The door came open, so I got in the car. I pulled the door shut, but it bounced open again. I tried again--no luck. This went on for about a minute before the other guy got out and tried to close the door for me. He tried for around five minutes--slamming the door, using a pen and a cell phone to try and fix the latch--but he still couldn't get it to close.
We were left with one option--I held the door shut while he drove me back to my place. I realized one thing on the way, and that is this: centrifugal force on a passenger-side door during a left turn is strong.
When we got to my place, he got out again and tried to close the door, with no luck. This meant he had to drive back to his place--out near Zeke's--while holding the passenger door shut.
However, when he came to pick me up to go to Salt last night, the door was working, so we didn't have to try that at highway speeds.
Anyway, I've got to read the paper, check my snail mail (I'm still waiting for word from Kirkwood, and a check for snow removal on the 8th) and get started on my Perspectives homework that's due Sunday.
29 January 2010
27 January 2010
Update + more poor web design
As a follow-up to this post, my dad is also on board with me going to Iowa City. So now all that remains is finding a place to live (hopefully with some good roommates that I can tolerate being around) and getting further in the edumacation process.
I have applied to Kirkwood, but since I never passed an English class at ISU, I'll have to take a placement exam--which means I'll have to get there somehow, and go to a place that they don't give a good location for. I also have to send a transcript from ISU, but they don't really put an address of where to send it on their website--if there is one, I haven't found it, and I've spent about ten minutes looking. Hopefully this information will be in the mail soon--I got an email from them telling me to expect some snail mail.
I know that I would have to take 16 credit hours to get an Associate's degree from there, then would have to transfer to Iowa to get the Bachelor's--I don't know how many credits I would have to take there to graduate, I can't find the information on their website.
Looks like there's going to be a lot of relying on God and keeping the urge to throttle people in check--so just standard operating procedure, really.
I have applied to Kirkwood, but since I never passed an English class at ISU, I'll have to take a placement exam--which means I'll have to get there somehow, and go to a place that they don't give a good location for. I also have to send a transcript from ISU, but they don't really put an address of where to send it on their website--if there is one, I haven't found it, and I've spent about ten minutes looking. Hopefully this information will be in the mail soon--I got an email from them telling me to expect some snail mail.
I know that I would have to take 16 credit hours to get an Associate's degree from there, then would have to transfer to Iowa to get the Bachelor's--I don't know how many credits I would have to take there to graduate, I can't find the information on their website.
Looks like there's going to be a lot of relying on God and keeping the urge to throttle people in check--so just standard operating procedure, really.
25 January 2010
Why do shoes keep dying on me?
I've noticed recently that my shoes--which I bought in September (I think)--are almost ready for the garbage. The seams are split down the sides, so they don't really keep snow out. I didn't really think much about it until yesterday, when I was talking with my dad.
I realized that both of us like to walk a lot--we have so much more in common that I've even told one person that we're the same person, except that he can grow a beard--so I started to think about how much I walk in a normal day.
I notice that if I walk 2 miles and climb 10 flights of stairs (one flight of stairs here having the definition of traveling up one floor) in a day, I've been lazy. For example, today I've walked a little over a mile and climbed 16 flights of stairs already, and I anticipate walking another two miles and climbing 13 more flights of stairs--at the very least. Mondays aren't the best "average" day though, as I tend to climb a lot of stairs on those days--laundry adds 3 flights, MMP adds half a mile and 6 flights, and MMM adds another mile and 6 flights from other days. Tuesday isn't a good "average" day either--connection group adds 2 miles of walking and 4 flights of stairs.
Maybe this kind of thing is why shoes give out so quickly--and at least part of the reason I've lost 70 pounds in the last 24 weeks. Oh well. I hate wearing shoes anyway.
I realized that both of us like to walk a lot--we have so much more in common that I've even told one person that we're the same person, except that he can grow a beard--so I started to think about how much I walk in a normal day.
I notice that if I walk 2 miles and climb 10 flights of stairs (one flight of stairs here having the definition of traveling up one floor) in a day, I've been lazy. For example, today I've walked a little over a mile and climbed 16 flights of stairs already, and I anticipate walking another two miles and climbing 13 more flights of stairs--at the very least. Mondays aren't the best "average" day though, as I tend to climb a lot of stairs on those days--laundry adds 3 flights, MMP adds half a mile and 6 flights, and MMM adds another mile and 6 flights from other days. Tuesday isn't a good "average" day either--connection group adds 2 miles of walking and 4 flights of stairs.
Maybe this kind of thing is why shoes give out so quickly--and at least part of the reason I've lost 70 pounds in the last 24 weeks. Oh well. I hate wearing shoes anyway.
23 January 2010
Taken aback
On Wednesday, I sent my parents an email about the Iowa City trip with a link to the Daily article. I thought I'd hear back in a day or two wondering what I'd been doing in order to get a crazy idea like this, and was expecting to have to defend why I felt like I should go.
Last night, I got an email from my mom, asking about the logistics--the article says it starts in the fall, would you have to break your lease; where would you go to community college and what would you study; where would the money come from--and I replied with the simple answers--don't have to break my lease; probably go to Kirkwood and finish my chemistry degree; have to take out loans.
This morning I got a reply back saying that it sounded like I was making good plans. I really thought that my mom would be totally against this whole thing--and admittedly, part of me was hoping for it, so I would have a way out. To see that she's supportive means that God has to be opening the way for me to go. It feels a little crazy to see how fast everything is moving right now, but I'll just have to hang on to God, and He'll get me through.
Last night, I got an email from my mom, asking about the logistics--the article says it starts in the fall, would you have to break your lease; where would you go to community college and what would you study; where would the money come from--and I replied with the simple answers--don't have to break my lease; probably go to Kirkwood and finish my chemistry degree; have to take out loans.
This morning I got a reply back saying that it sounded like I was making good plans. I really thought that my mom would be totally against this whole thing--and admittedly, part of me was hoping for it, so I would have a way out. To see that she's supportive means that God has to be opening the way for me to go. It feels a little crazy to see how fast everything is moving right now, but I'll just have to hang on to God, and He'll get me through.
19 January 2010
Always talking
Sorry, no Monday Movie Madness movie review this week--there was no MMM last night, and even if there was, I was hanging out with my connection group (on a non-connection group night, that's how awesome we are). Anyway, on the way there, I got to thinking--and talking--about how I tend to talk to myself out loud. It's constant--unless there's someone else within hearing range. Some people have even caught me talking to myself, and I just shrug it off and keep going.
Why do I do it? It keeps me focused, and keeps one topic in the forefront of my mind--most of the time, anyway. If I didn't, my mind would go off on tangents, and tangents of tangents, until suddenly, I'm thinking about things that I shouldn't think about (which I won't go into here). I like this quote that is a response to someone asking why Gandalf always talks to himself "It's a habit of the very old. We tend to pick out the wisest person in the room to talk to."
What do I talk about? That depends. Sometimes it's what I need to do today, tomorrow, or the next day--very rarely any further ahead than that. Sometimes it's getting the idea for a blog post formalized and concrete--like I've said before, these posts are often "written" before I get to a computer. Other times, it's saying what I would say to others if I had a spine or a death wish or both--like a couple days ago, when someone parked in the middle of a small parking lot at a post office, then complained when the next car honked at him, I started talking to myself saying that he was lucky all that person did was honk. Sometimes, I'll even continue my half of a conversation that had ended a few minutes before.
I've also noticed that I tend to talk differently when I'm walking around than when I'm in my apartment. When I'm in my apartment, it's more like I'm giving a speech, but when I'm walking around, I talk more like I'm answering a series of questions. This would prompt any outside observer to think that I hear voices, but I'm just answering questions that I would want answered if someone was talking about whatever subject I happen to be talking about. I'm not sure why I have different styles of talking to myself, but I do.
And in case you're wondering, the talking to myself doesn't stop when I'm around others. It just switches from being out loud to being in my head. The only times I really stop talking to myself is when I'm having a real conversation with someone--and that doesn't always stop me from having a little side convo in my head.
--
To switch tracks for a moment, I probably won't be on Facebook for a little while. As a few of you know, I found out yesterday that my parents' divorce is final--and only because of my mom's status. I'm a little upset about that, and I'm going to blame Facebook, at least in part. So now's a good time to write something crazy or embarrassing on my wall--as if I'd really care anyway.
Why do I do it? It keeps me focused, and keeps one topic in the forefront of my mind--most of the time, anyway. If I didn't, my mind would go off on tangents, and tangents of tangents, until suddenly, I'm thinking about things that I shouldn't think about (which I won't go into here). I like this quote that is a response to someone asking why Gandalf always talks to himself "It's a habit of the very old. We tend to pick out the wisest person in the room to talk to."
What do I talk about? That depends. Sometimes it's what I need to do today, tomorrow, or the next day--very rarely any further ahead than that. Sometimes it's getting the idea for a blog post formalized and concrete--like I've said before, these posts are often "written" before I get to a computer. Other times, it's saying what I would say to others if I had a spine or a death wish or both--like a couple days ago, when someone parked in the middle of a small parking lot at a post office, then complained when the next car honked at him, I started talking to myself saying that he was lucky all that person did was honk. Sometimes, I'll even continue my half of a conversation that had ended a few minutes before.
I've also noticed that I tend to talk differently when I'm walking around than when I'm in my apartment. When I'm in my apartment, it's more like I'm giving a speech, but when I'm walking around, I talk more like I'm answering a series of questions. This would prompt any outside observer to think that I hear voices, but I'm just answering questions that I would want answered if someone was talking about whatever subject I happen to be talking about. I'm not sure why I have different styles of talking to myself, but I do.
And in case you're wondering, the talking to myself doesn't stop when I'm around others. It just switches from being out loud to being in my head. The only times I really stop talking to myself is when I'm having a real conversation with someone--and that doesn't always stop me from having a little side convo in my head.
--
To switch tracks for a moment, I probably won't be on Facebook for a little while. As a few of you know, I found out yesterday that my parents' divorce is final--and only because of my mom's status. I'm a little upset about that, and I'm going to blame Facebook, at least in part. So now's a good time to write something crazy or embarrassing on my wall--as if I'd really care anyway.
15 January 2010
God isn't very subtle sometimes
This little story starts a week ago. On the morning of the 8th, there was some shoveling to do for money, so I was up at 3, and shoveling from 4 to 9 in the morning. When I got back to my apartment, I tried to read. I say "tried" because the shivering was so bad I'd have to stop at least once a minute and force myself to be still. After reading the 10-page chapter--which took over half an hour--I hopped in the shower and tried to warm myself up. My hands were a bright reddish-pink color--about the color of the wrapper on cherry-flavored Pez. From a little searching, I figure that I had a mild case of hypothermia. I told one of my friends, and he said he'd take me to Goodwill to look for better winter gear--since mine is more fitting for early-to-mid fall or mid-to-late spring, because I've lost weight.
Tuesday rolled around, and my friend came and picked me up. While we were having dinner before going to Goodwill, the subject came up that I don't feel comfortable taking something I didn't earn--which makes the whole Christian philosophy difficult. It goes against how I was raised. We didn't find any gloves, or boots that would fit me--the rest of my winter stuff is okay--so he just gave me a pair of gloves that he had bought a couple days before and decided to keep using his old pair. He also said that he might be able to get a pair of boots in my size from one of his co-workers.
After that, I went to connection group, where we were talking about what we had done over break. One guy brought up that he was taking Perspectives starting on Sunday, and another guy asked who else in the group was taking it. One of the leaders asked if I was, and I responded with something like "that would require a monetary investment." He said I had been earning money by shoveling, and I thought, "Yeah, but there's rent and electricity and food to pay for first." I'm not really sure how it happened after that--it's a bit of a blur--but my connection group volunteered to pay so that I could take Perspectives.
The next day, my friend texted me saying that he had the boots for me.
Thursday, I got a call from my dad, letting me know that his side of the family would be getting together for "Christmas" on the 24th--of January. He also asked if I would be willing to take his car if he got a new one--providing that I got my license, of course. My friend dropped off the boots an hour or two later. I have to say, I think I'm starting to get comfortable with the idea of getting things I didn't earn.
On a completely unrelated note, am I the only one whose brain was frantically trying to come up with ways to save the bunnies while Mark was talking at Salt last night--or that went to bed and woke up still trying to think of ways to save them (which is probably why I had a dream where a bunny was chasing a bull--don't ask, I don't remember much more of it than that)? If I am, oh well, it's not like I haven't been weird before. If not, here's a couple concepts that might have saved them--and that might save any bunnies that are unfortunate enough to find themselves in the same situation. The first is based on bat removal. If bats get into your home, the pest removers put up a screen that is shaped in such a way that bats can get out, but not in. This would of course have to be modified, since bats are usually coming out in a horizontal or even downward direction, and the bunny needs to be going up--not to mention that bunnies are generally bigger than bats. The other idea is a one-way pet door. That would have to be set up with a spring instead of just using its weight to close it, because the bunny might push it past the vertical, but the spring would have to be weak enough for the bunny to overcome while it is going up. These are just concepts, and it's likely that in trying these, you would find complications, but it's something to try. I'm sorry that I didn't offer these in time to save the bunnies in question, but I didn't know about them until too late.
Tuesday rolled around, and my friend came and picked me up. While we were having dinner before going to Goodwill, the subject came up that I don't feel comfortable taking something I didn't earn--which makes the whole Christian philosophy difficult. It goes against how I was raised. We didn't find any gloves, or boots that would fit me--the rest of my winter stuff is okay--so he just gave me a pair of gloves that he had bought a couple days before and decided to keep using his old pair. He also said that he might be able to get a pair of boots in my size from one of his co-workers.
After that, I went to connection group, where we were talking about what we had done over break. One guy brought up that he was taking Perspectives starting on Sunday, and another guy asked who else in the group was taking it. One of the leaders asked if I was, and I responded with something like "that would require a monetary investment." He said I had been earning money by shoveling, and I thought, "Yeah, but there's rent and electricity and food to pay for first." I'm not really sure how it happened after that--it's a bit of a blur--but my connection group volunteered to pay so that I could take Perspectives.
The next day, my friend texted me saying that he had the boots for me.
Thursday, I got a call from my dad, letting me know that his side of the family would be getting together for "Christmas" on the 24th--of January. He also asked if I would be willing to take his car if he got a new one--providing that I got my license, of course. My friend dropped off the boots an hour or two later. I have to say, I think I'm starting to get comfortable with the idea of getting things I didn't earn.
On a completely unrelated note, am I the only one whose brain was frantically trying to come up with ways to save the bunnies while Mark was talking at Salt last night--or that went to bed and woke up still trying to think of ways to save them (which is probably why I had a dream where a bunny was chasing a bull--don't ask, I don't remember much more of it than that)? If I am, oh well, it's not like I haven't been weird before. If not, here's a couple concepts that might have saved them--and that might save any bunnies that are unfortunate enough to find themselves in the same situation. The first is based on bat removal. If bats get into your home, the pest removers put up a screen that is shaped in such a way that bats can get out, but not in. This would of course have to be modified, since bats are usually coming out in a horizontal or even downward direction, and the bunny needs to be going up--not to mention that bunnies are generally bigger than bats. The other idea is a one-way pet door. That would have to be set up with a spring instead of just using its weight to close it, because the bunny might push it past the vertical, but the spring would have to be weak enough for the bunny to overcome while it is going up. These are just concepts, and it's likely that in trying these, you would find complications, but it's something to try. I'm sorry that I didn't offer these in time to save the bunnies in question, but I didn't know about them until too late.
12 January 2010
Monday Movie Madness
So, after last night, I've decided to start reviewing the movies watched during Monday Movie Madness. This may actually only last one time, or it might actually become a regular thing on this blog. We'll have to wait and see which.
Anyway, last night was "The Brave Little Toaster". It was one of my favorite movies as a kid, being nearly as old as I am (1987). Although, now that I've seen it as an adult, I wonder how my parents could have let me watch it--they were afraid to let me watch the Wizard of Oz because the witch might scare me.
First is the short version of the plot. Five appliances--a toaster (duh), a radio, a lamp, an electric blanket, and a vacuum cleaner--have been left in a cottage for at least 6 years--the vacuum makes reference to 2,000 days--by their "master" and eagerly await his return, keeping the house clean for him. The air conditioner--a minor character--had also been left in the house, and despairs of the master ever returning. The other five leave to go in search of the master in "the city of light". They have many hardships on the road, and finally get to the city, shortly after the master had left to go retrieve them so he can take the outdated appliances to college--because what male college student doesn't want a whiny, yellow electric "blanky" for his dorm--and they decide to wait there for him. The master's new appliances throw them into the trash, and they are taken to the junkyard where a sadistic crane magnet keeps throwing them onto the conveyor for the crusher. The master finally finds them, but gets pulled onto the conveyor with them, and is trapped under all the metal, being pulled toward the crusher.
I won't ruin the end for you, but if you want, the Wikipedia page will ruin it for you.
This movie is terrifying--there's a portion that I will call "7 minutes of absolute horror", after which one of the guys was curled up in a ball (I was halfway there myself). But let's begin at the beginning and point out things that make this "children's movie" into something inappropriate for kids. First, when "Blanky" hears a car coming, they all build a tower so that he can climb up into the attic and look out the window. He sees a yellow station wagon coming up the road, but he slips into a delusion, seeing a blue car with the master inside. He floats down to meet the master at the door with a very "mellow" look on his face.
After the car goes by, the air conditioner starts talking to them, telling them that the master's not coming back. The others reply that he's just grouchy because the master never played with him, which begs the question, the kid was allowed to play with the toaster--not to mention the vacuum? Anyway, the AC has a fit and starts banging against the window frame, cracking the walls around him, and spitting sparks everywhere. After a while, he explodes and falls silent, with his "mouth" falling to the floor. The rest just kind of go "Oh well, he was a jerk anyway" and decide to leave.
On their journey, they reach a meadow, and meet a lot of woodland creatures. The toaster runs away, because all of the creatures are staring at their reflections in him. He finds a flower in the woods who seems to be very attracted to its reflection, and runs away again. He looks back, and the flower is dead due to abject loneliness. The toaster returns to the rest, and sees that Blanky is being dragged underground by his new mouse "friends".
--Now begins the 7 minutes of absolute horror. Please turn away now if you are easily scared--
They leave the meadow and come into the woods. After a short time, they decide to stop for the night, and look for a place to shelter themselves. The lamp finds a hollowed out tree, and turns himself on to show that it's nice and roomy. However, it looks like a giant, scary jack-o-lantern. The others hide from it, thinking the lamp is being eaten. The lamp comes out and looks back on the tree, finally seeing the horror in it--and lit from the outside, the tree is not only jack-o-lantern shaped, it also has the texture of the skin of the orc army's leader in Return of the King. He runs from the tree, and they all notice that Blanky has made himself into a tent.
They all fall asleep, and Toaster has a nightmare. Please do not watch the video unless you are brave--this is the scariest part of the movie--but here it is. I have not the heart to describe it to you, but I now know why I started hating clowns as a child, and still hate them to this day.
Toaster wakes up from his nightmare, just in time to see a strong wind blow Blanky away. The lamp tries to look for him, but their Junko brand battery dies. The lamp refuses to give up on the battery, and stays plugged in and stretches towards the sky, and proceeds to get hit by lightning and collapse. The next scene starts without the lamp, but after a short time, he pops up and makes a Holocaust reference (which I didn't notice until someone else said it).
--Thus ends the 7 minutes of absolute horror--
They continue on, and come to a waterfall, where the vacuum has a seizure and starts eating his own cord. The others manage to revive him, and try to cross a chasm above the river below. Toaster--on the side they're going to--keeps fighting off having a seizure himself, but drops the cord, which yanks him off the edge. The vacuum--holding up the other end--tries to keep them up, but the cords come undone and the rest plummet into the river.
The vacuum saves them, but exhausts himself in the effort, so the others take to pulling him along. He falls in quicksand, dragging the others behind him. The last one above the surface is the radio, and just before his antenna drops below, a hand grabs it and pulls them all out.
Our heroes are taken to a little shop and put in the back room. The owner gets a customer who wants a blender motor. He comes back in and shoves a blender into a vise, then cruelly operates to get the motor. Cut away to show oil dripping from the vise handle to the floor. The appliances in the shop then sing "It's a 'B' Movie" and we see that some of them are cobbled-together from different appliances--à la thereifixedit.com--and all are absolutely insane.
They escape and make it to the master's apartment, meeting the cutting-edge appliances that the boy doesn't want--he'd rather have the ancient stuff he had as a kid--who then throw our heroes into the trash.
At the junkyard, the junked cars sing a song simply titled "Worthless" as they are picked up by the sadistic crane magnet and crushed into 1-inch cubes. The master arrives, due to blatant hints from the old black-and-white TV set that was friends with the old appliances, and goes looking through the junkyard with his very strong girlfriend--she rips the grille off of a car with her bare hands. Our heroes keep escaping the crusher, but the magnet won't let them get away, chasing them and putting them back on the conveyor, ultimately pulling the master with them, who gets pinned underneath other metal and can't escape the crusher--at least, not on his own......
Now that you know a fair amount of the movie, don't you just want to run out and show it to all the little kids you know? No? What's wrong with you? It's a kids' movie from the 80's. What could be wrong with it? So the two sequels are definitely out then, too? (I just learned about them from Wikipedia) Fine. Be that way.
Anyway, last night was "The Brave Little Toaster". It was one of my favorite movies as a kid, being nearly as old as I am (1987). Although, now that I've seen it as an adult, I wonder how my parents could have let me watch it--they were afraid to let me watch the Wizard of Oz because the witch might scare me.
First is the short version of the plot. Five appliances--a toaster (duh), a radio, a lamp, an electric blanket, and a vacuum cleaner--have been left in a cottage for at least 6 years--the vacuum makes reference to 2,000 days--by their "master" and eagerly await his return, keeping the house clean for him. The air conditioner--a minor character--had also been left in the house, and despairs of the master ever returning. The other five leave to go in search of the master in "the city of light". They have many hardships on the road, and finally get to the city, shortly after the master had left to go retrieve them so he can take the outdated appliances to college--because what male college student doesn't want a whiny, yellow electric "blanky" for his dorm--and they decide to wait there for him. The master's new appliances throw them into the trash, and they are taken to the junkyard where a sadistic crane magnet keeps throwing them onto the conveyor for the crusher. The master finally finds them, but gets pulled onto the conveyor with them, and is trapped under all the metal, being pulled toward the crusher.
I won't ruin the end for you, but if you want, the Wikipedia page will ruin it for you.
This movie is terrifying--there's a portion that I will call "7 minutes of absolute horror", after which one of the guys was curled up in a ball (I was halfway there myself). But let's begin at the beginning and point out things that make this "children's movie" into something inappropriate for kids. First, when "Blanky" hears a car coming, they all build a tower so that he can climb up into the attic and look out the window. He sees a yellow station wagon coming up the road, but he slips into a delusion, seeing a blue car with the master inside. He floats down to meet the master at the door with a very "mellow" look on his face.
After the car goes by, the air conditioner starts talking to them, telling them that the master's not coming back. The others reply that he's just grouchy because the master never played with him, which begs the question, the kid was allowed to play with the toaster--not to mention the vacuum? Anyway, the AC has a fit and starts banging against the window frame, cracking the walls around him, and spitting sparks everywhere. After a while, he explodes and falls silent, with his "mouth" falling to the floor. The rest just kind of go "Oh well, he was a jerk anyway" and decide to leave.
On their journey, they reach a meadow, and meet a lot of woodland creatures. The toaster runs away, because all of the creatures are staring at their reflections in him. He finds a flower in the woods who seems to be very attracted to its reflection, and runs away again. He looks back, and the flower is dead due to abject loneliness. The toaster returns to the rest, and sees that Blanky is being dragged underground by his new mouse "friends".
--Now begins the 7 minutes of absolute horror. Please turn away now if you are easily scared--
They leave the meadow and come into the woods. After a short time, they decide to stop for the night, and look for a place to shelter themselves. The lamp finds a hollowed out tree, and turns himself on to show that it's nice and roomy. However, it looks like a giant, scary jack-o-lantern. The others hide from it, thinking the lamp is being eaten. The lamp comes out and looks back on the tree, finally seeing the horror in it--and lit from the outside, the tree is not only jack-o-lantern shaped, it also has the texture of the skin of the orc army's leader in Return of the King. He runs from the tree, and they all notice that Blanky has made himself into a tent.
They all fall asleep, and Toaster has a nightmare. Please do not watch the video unless you are brave--this is the scariest part of the movie--but here it is. I have not the heart to describe it to you, but I now know why I started hating clowns as a child, and still hate them to this day.
Toaster wakes up from his nightmare, just in time to see a strong wind blow Blanky away. The lamp tries to look for him, but their Junko brand battery dies. The lamp refuses to give up on the battery, and stays plugged in and stretches towards the sky, and proceeds to get hit by lightning and collapse. The next scene starts without the lamp, but after a short time, he pops up and makes a Holocaust reference (which I didn't notice until someone else said it).
--Thus ends the 7 minutes of absolute horror--
They continue on, and come to a waterfall, where the vacuum has a seizure and starts eating his own cord. The others manage to revive him, and try to cross a chasm above the river below. Toaster--on the side they're going to--keeps fighting off having a seizure himself, but drops the cord, which yanks him off the edge. The vacuum--holding up the other end--tries to keep them up, but the cords come undone and the rest plummet into the river.
The vacuum saves them, but exhausts himself in the effort, so the others take to pulling him along. He falls in quicksand, dragging the others behind him. The last one above the surface is the radio, and just before his antenna drops below, a hand grabs it and pulls them all out.
Our heroes are taken to a little shop and put in the back room. The owner gets a customer who wants a blender motor. He comes back in and shoves a blender into a vise, then cruelly operates to get the motor. Cut away to show oil dripping from the vise handle to the floor. The appliances in the shop then sing "It's a 'B' Movie" and we see that some of them are cobbled-together from different appliances--à la thereifixedit.com--and all are absolutely insane.
They escape and make it to the master's apartment, meeting the cutting-edge appliances that the boy doesn't want--he'd rather have the ancient stuff he had as a kid--who then throw our heroes into the trash.
At the junkyard, the junked cars sing a song simply titled "Worthless" as they are picked up by the sadistic crane magnet and crushed into 1-inch cubes. The master arrives, due to blatant hints from the old black-and-white TV set that was friends with the old appliances, and goes looking through the junkyard with his very strong girlfriend--she rips the grille off of a car with her bare hands. Our heroes keep escaping the crusher, but the magnet won't let them get away, chasing them and putting them back on the conveyor, ultimately pulling the master with them, who gets pinned underneath other metal and can't escape the crusher--at least, not on his own......
Now that you know a fair amount of the movie, don't you just want to run out and show it to all the little kids you know? No? What's wrong with you? It's a kids' movie from the 80's. What could be wrong with it? So the two sequels are definitely out then, too? (I just learned about them from Wikipedia) Fine. Be that way.
10 January 2010
To website designers everywhere
I don't like complaining--at least, not out loud--but why do some website designers not think about the color combinations they put together? When you use red and green close together, it causes problems for some of us. Right now, I'm especially looking at you, ESPN.com designer! Using red and green for wrong and right on their "expert" picks? Red-green colorblindness is the most common form of colorblindness--with about 1 in 10 men "suffering" from this "disability", according to WebMD.
For those that may not have guessed, I am in this group. I can usually tell red from green if they are by themselves (or so it seems to me) but if you start putting the two colors together, I might not notice. My grandfather (on my mother's side, of course) was also colorblind, as is at least one of my cousins--and two out of 6 is slightly beating the odds.
So, if I ever have a daughter, she will be at least a carrier of the defective gene, and any sons she has would have a 50% chance of being colorblind as well--unless her mother is also a carrier (or colorblind).
Part of the reason colorblindness is fairly common is because people who are completely colorblind have the advantage of being able to see through camouflage. I'm only red-green colorblind, so I don't get this advantage.
So if I start disagreeing with you on the colors of things, you can probably assume I'm wrong.
I'll close with a random fact: My two favorite colors? Red and green.
For those that may not have guessed, I am in this group. I can usually tell red from green if they are by themselves (or so it seems to me) but if you start putting the two colors together, I might not notice. My grandfather (on my mother's side, of course) was also colorblind, as is at least one of my cousins--and two out of 6 is slightly beating the odds.
So, if I ever have a daughter, she will be at least a carrier of the defective gene, and any sons she has would have a 50% chance of being colorblind as well--unless her mother is also a carrier (or colorblind).
Part of the reason colorblindness is fairly common is because people who are completely colorblind have the advantage of being able to see through camouflage. I'm only red-green colorblind, so I don't get this advantage.
So if I start disagreeing with you on the colors of things, you can probably assume I'm wrong.
I'll close with a random fact: My two favorite colors? Red and green.
07 January 2010
NUMB3RS
No, this post isn't about the CBS show. It's just about a mild(?) obsession of mine.
As you might have been able to tell from the last paragraph of this post, I'm somewhat obsessed with numbers. I'm not sure when it started, but I know I was multiplying and dividing while the rest of the kindergartners were learning to add and subtract--I did, however have to ask them to tie my shoes until the summer after that year (and I still only tie my shoes when I buy them, or if they accidentally come untied).
Anyway, lately I've been working on my prime number spreadsheet. I've got all the prime numbers from 2-2999--the first 428 prime numbers--so I can check any number up to 9,000,000 to see if it's prime or not--anything higher, I can only be sure if my spreadsheet says it isn't prime. I do plan to continue working on it, with no foreseeable end.
I've also begun playing a "game" when I get bored. Here's how it works: Pick a number, and find its prime factors--so if it's already prime, the game ends. Take the prime factors and add them together. Continue until you hit a prime number. For example, say I pick the year I was born in, 1986. Its prime factors are 2, 3, and 331. The sum of these is 336. The prime factors of that are 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, and 7. The sum of these is 18, whose prime factors are 2, 3, and 3. The sum of those is 8, which factors to 2, 2, and 2. That sum is 6, which factors to 2 and 3. They total 5, which is prime. (For any that are wondering, I normally do this in my head) Note: 4 breaks the game--factors are 2 and 2, which add up to 4 again--but you can only get 4 if you start with it, so that problem takes care of itself. 1 is also illegal, being neither prime nor a multiple of primes, but nobody (except a real loser) would pick that to start with.
I had another spreadsheet I was working on that figured out the lowest number whose prime factors added up to a prime number--with a certain number of prime factors. When I last worked on that, I was up to 30 factors--or 1,610,612,736 (3 times 2 to the 29th power, which total to 61). I've grown bored with this one, since it doesn't actually take any thinking or work to keep it going--just using formulas on the spreadsheet.
In case you've noticed, one big part of this obsession with numbers is with prime numbers. That's because prime numbers are in what I consider "good numbers". Good numbers are either prime, or whole powers of whole numbers--the power can't be one, that's cheating. Bad numbers are all other whole numbers. I don't normally divide numbers that aren't whole numbers into "good" or "bad", they're just sort of there. Pi has to be my favorite irrational number though, which is why I've memorized it to 40 decimal places--I probably won't go any further, because I don't care to go further. I have been tempted to do the same with e, but that would mean more "useless" memorization.
As you might have been able to tell from the last paragraph of this post, I'm somewhat obsessed with numbers. I'm not sure when it started, but I know I was multiplying and dividing while the rest of the kindergartners were learning to add and subtract--I did, however have to ask them to tie my shoes until the summer after that year (and I still only tie my shoes when I buy them, or if they accidentally come untied).
Anyway, lately I've been working on my prime number spreadsheet. I've got all the prime numbers from 2-2999--the first 428 prime numbers--so I can check any number up to 9,000,000 to see if it's prime or not--anything higher, I can only be sure if my spreadsheet says it isn't prime. I do plan to continue working on it, with no foreseeable end.
I've also begun playing a "game" when I get bored. Here's how it works: Pick a number, and find its prime factors--so if it's already prime, the game ends. Take the prime factors and add them together. Continue until you hit a prime number. For example, say I pick the year I was born in, 1986. Its prime factors are 2, 3, and 331. The sum of these is 336. The prime factors of that are 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, and 7. The sum of these is 18, whose prime factors are 2, 3, and 3. The sum of those is 8, which factors to 2, 2, and 2. That sum is 6, which factors to 2 and 3. They total 5, which is prime. (For any that are wondering, I normally do this in my head) Note: 4 breaks the game--factors are 2 and 2, which add up to 4 again--but you can only get 4 if you start with it, so that problem takes care of itself. 1 is also illegal, being neither prime nor a multiple of primes, but nobody (except a real loser) would pick that to start with.
I had another spreadsheet I was working on that figured out the lowest number whose prime factors added up to a prime number--with a certain number of prime factors. When I last worked on that, I was up to 30 factors--or 1,610,612,736 (3 times 2 to the 29th power, which total to 61). I've grown bored with this one, since it doesn't actually take any thinking or work to keep it going--just using formulas on the spreadsheet.
In case you've noticed, one big part of this obsession with numbers is with prime numbers. That's because prime numbers are in what I consider "good numbers". Good numbers are either prime, or whole powers of whole numbers--the power can't be one, that's cheating. Bad numbers are all other whole numbers. I don't normally divide numbers that aren't whole numbers into "good" or "bad", they're just sort of there. Pi has to be my favorite irrational number though, which is why I've memorized it to 40 decimal places--I probably won't go any further, because I don't care to go further. I have been tempted to do the same with e, but that would mean more "useless" memorization.
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