Nasferatu

I'm thrilled to announce that the following exciting items have been added to the already fantastic prize pool for the upcoming Hartford Open:

• one terry-cloth men's bathrobe, size XL, slightly tattered.
• several pairs of gently used shoes, mostly men's size 13.
• a dazzling assortment of textbooks of the sort that a college biology major would have owned in the mid-1990s.
• one complete set of 1991 Fleer baseball cards, near-mint condition.
• one black torchiere floor lamp, possibly working.
• sundry mismatched kitchen plates and glasses.
• one cat, black, who has grown rather fat and boring over the past few months.

I would like to stress that these prizes have absolutely nothing to do with the fact that we are moving one week after the tournament.

The results of my Boards are sitting in my mailbox right at this very second.

But I can't check them because we're still in Baltimore for another day or two.

Grrrr.

Oh well.

But I can still get a chuckle every time I think about the name of the Phillies' new pitcher.

Oral boards: over, done with, gone.

Ten sections on the exam. I'm pretty sure I knocked six of them out of the park, struggled a bit with two others, and fell somewhere in between with the other two. No psychotic examiners.

Now: a celebratory dinner to include much meat and bourbon. The latter, I'm told, is somewhat of a local delicacy here in the great state of Kentucky.

Afterwards: resumption of normal life.

....until my Oral Boards. My stress level right now is higher than has been at any point in my life, and it's still got until 1:00 to crescendo.

Please please please please let me not vomit, and if I do, let it land somewhere other than in my examiner's lap.

For the final RauHaus event at our comfy Connecticut digs, we decided to go big: $100 entry fee. Seven games. Three entire cows grilled up bulgogi-style.

It was an exciting finish, as five players (in a field of ten) entered the last round at 4-2. In the end, we crowned a new champ:

1. goldfishbw  5-2, +390
2. ftangredi  5-2, +241
3. key_lime_guy  4-3, +324
4. cheezchick  4-3, +283
5. wisemonkey  4-3, +236
6. Augustine Adda (who needs to get a dang LJ already)  4-3, +16
7. picopaco  4-3, -159
8. olaugh  2.5-4.5, -248
9. satireblank  2.5-4.5, -252
10. sr_orangepants  0-7, -831

Other prizes included most bingos (18) by Alyssa, most stylish bingo (GANGBANG) by Cecilia, and high game (597) by yours truly. Portions of the entry fee fund were spent on an array of housewarming gifts (including matching Monkey and Doggie baskets) for John and CeLe.

The final game at table #1 pitted me against Brad for all the marbles. It was a close game all the way which turned a bit ugly at the end, as my last rack of LMNQRWZ couldn't get the job done against his admittedly-not-all-that-much-prettier AEIIIRU. Congrats to Brad, who walked away with the biggest first prize ($400) in the history of the RauHaus events.

Thanks to all who've helped make these events so much fun. We're going to try to put our next one together this summer after we're all settled into our new digs in Baltimore.

....Samuel L. Jackson yelling, "I've had it with these monkey-fightin' snakes on this Monday-to-Friday plane!"

Before......



( Would I clutter your Friends page just to show you OUTDoOR? )

From the new NASPA wiki-site.....

Membership in NASPA currently costs US$30[....] In addition, players who join NASPA before July 1 will receive low-numbered membership numbers, a visible demonstration of their support for our nascent organization. Players who have a specific number that they want for their membership number may obtain it by paying a higher membership fee of US$50, provided the number is still available.

Current members:
[...]

AA000069 Jim Geary$

Well played, sir.

I got an email today from a coworker of mine.

She's a pretty bright person.

She's known me for about three years now.

Undoubtedly, she's seen my name in print dozens of times.

She was replying to an email of mine, which was bookended by lines reading From: Stefan Rau <stefan42 at gmail.com> and Thanks, Stefan.

What was the first line of her email?

"Hi Stephan,"

Thirty-three years, and this still annoys the living fuck out of me. Johns, Daves, and Franks of the world, you'll never appreciate how easy you have it.

I'm thinking it's a pretty clear sign that I should stop futzing around and get back to studying when Quackle responds to my bag-emptying bingo with a triple-triple outbingo.

Two games in a row.

I found this hanging on the bulletin board in my program coordinator's office and had to snap a pic.....



I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face long enough to explain to her what it really is, even if I wanted to.

(For those who don't know what the reference is, Snopes has a page about this picture here.)

( Meet Noodle! )

Pookie's computer stopped working the other day. It now gets as far as the Windows splash screen before spontaneously rebooting. No safe mode, no nothing.

I tried re-installing Windows, and signs point to the hard drive being completely horked: the setup program recognizes the partition on which Windows had been installed as a non-NTFS disk with 100% free space. (Fortunately, most of the data--with the terribly unfortunate exception of all the writing she's been doing recently--are on a separate partition that would seem to be OK.)

So I'm trying to do a fresh install on the secondary HDD, so she at least has a machine to use. Problem is, since Pookie decided to "clean up" my computer area a few months back, I can't find my XP validation code, and have thus hit a brick wall in that process.

And I'm in full-on boards study mode, so I really don't have the time to deal with this shite right now.

I certainly shouldn't be wasting my time blogging about it, but there we are.

via BoingBoing.....

Keyboard made from Scrabble tiles.

All right, Jersey folks, which one of you plunked down the "$1200 to $1500" for this absolutely wonderful thing?

The mystery of why so many children of the fifties and sixties ended up terrified of clowns....

.....I stumbled across what has become my new favorite diagnosis, largely because of the theoretical conversations it conjures up in my head.

Doctor: Well, Mr. Smitherwick, your test results are back. That thing on your forehead is, as I'd surmised, a Pott's puffy tumor.
Patient: Oh, no!
Doctor: Don't get too excited, now......it's not really a tumor.
Patient: Oh, how nice!
Doctor: I'm afraid, though, that it is indeed very, very puffy.

Item #1: Yay Eagles! Bring on the G-men!

Item #2: The increasingly frequent sight of a wideout jumping to his feet and trying to look self-righteous while making one of those goofy, limp-wristed pulling-a-flag-out-of-my-belt gestures towards an official to try to get a pass interference penalty has to be one of the silliest things you can see in a televised sporting event.

I've been sort of half-watching Die Hard: With a Vengeance as background noise while studying. Not a particularly significant choice, mind you, but more a matter of my flipping channels and the brain reflex of "Hey! Look! Something familiar! Stop here!" kicking in.

(It's familiar because many years ago, in an atypical fit of testosterone-ladenness, I actually saw this movie in the theater (though I'm not really sure how that decision got made, as it's not the type of film I or the girl I was dating at the time would usually choose to plunk down six bucks on (though I do remember being quite satisfied to nail that four-gallons-exactly-from-the-three-and-five-gallon-jugs puzzle way before McClain did (not to mention doing a little fist-pump when I found out that my memory of who the 21st president was--see above--was correct (it's actually easy with the right mnemonic.....let's see, Washington and Jefferson made many a joke, Van Buren had to put the frying pan back, Lincoln just gasped "Heaven guard America!"......yes! 21 is an A! Arthur! Thanks, Mr. Engblom! (sure, that I can remember......the difference between a meningioma and a hemangiopericytoma, notsomuch))))).)

But that's not important right now.

See, I found the distribution of commercials slightly amusing. In addition to the usual crap, there was a smattering of mini-infomerical type dealies, including spots for.....

• the expected-during-a-Bruce-Willis-flick male enhancement pills;
• some kind of plastic clip thing that started out extolling its usefulness for hiding bra straps when wearing complicated tops, but quickly devolved into a discussion of the "natural, youthful lift" it allegedly gives one's bust ("One full cup size!");
• the Endless Pool!;
• some portable plastic handle thingy-doo, its usefulness illustrated by how easily a (thankfully heavily towel-clad) grandma uses it to steady herself while clambering out of the bathtub; and
• the ShamWow.....and not just the usual spot, but the extended version with customer testimonials, which still failed to convince me that the estimate of $20 per month in paper towels is anything but a ridiculous pipe-dream.

Now, granted, the audience here is probably people who, like me, just had it on to have something on, rather than a group of hardcore-but-thirteen-years-out-of-date action flick aficionados.....but that still seemed like kind of a wide net to be casting, is all. 

And, as a random bit of trivia for those who've read this far, did you know that the shill in the ShamWow spot is the same guy who did that laughably dreadful-looking "Underground Comedy Movie" several years ago? Late-night-commercial cross-referencing! Score!

So, what to do with a four-hour drive down to Philly on Christmas when Pookie has to follow behind in a separate car?

Sounds like a perfect opportunity to break out my big mix of Tom Waits, who's on Pookie's no-fucking-way-while-I'm-in-the-car list.









Mmmmmmmmmm....