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Sunday, March 2, 2008

Um ... hello, everyone?
I haven't posted here in forever. Does anyone even have me on his or her friends list anymore?? I'm posting this, anyway.

So, I totally missed a movie quote game on Mimmi's site and Becky's site. To make up for this egregious miscarriment of taxitude, I'm going to make one of my own. Now people can have more fun. Yay!


1. Pick 15 25 (I'm expanding it!) of your favorite movies.
2. Go and find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them here for everyone to guess.
4. When someone guesses correctly, put who guessed it and the movie.
5. NO GOOGLING/using IMDb search or other search functions.

Now, on to the movies (I'll try to get a decent mix of new and old, mainstream and obscure):

1. "Did you think your song and dance and your superstition would help you, [name]? I am the Third Revelation! I am who the Lord has chosen!"

2. "The mind plays tricks on you. You play tricks back! It's like you're unraveling a big cable-knit sweater that someone keeps knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting and knitting..."

3. "I want ten chocolate chip cookies. Medium chips. None too close to the outside."

4. "Four minutes, forty-eight seconds. We're all dead. Burned to a crisp."

5. "It's not often you see a guy that green have the blues that bad."

6. "You're a fucking ugly bitch. I want to stab you to death, and then play around with your blood."

7. "The Way of the Samurai is found in death. Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day, when one's body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears, and swords, being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand-foot cliffs, dying of disease or committing seppuku at the death of one's master. And every day, without fail, one should consider himself as dead. This is the substance of the Way of the Samurai."

8. "Sand is overrated. It's just tiny, little rocks."

9. "See big men sticking screw drivers into things - turning them - AND ADJUSTING THEM!"

10. "You're always on about it. 'Will the girls like this? Will the girls like that? Is it too big? Is it too small?'"

11. "You-you eat like a bird."

12. "My son's a homosexual, and I love him. I love my dead gay son."

13. "That's right... who's laughing now... who's laughing *now*?"

14. "This is the most uncomfortable coffin I've ever been in. You are wasting my time."

15. "Well you figure, you sleep one-third of your life, that knocks out eight years of marriage right there. So you're, y'know, down to 16 in change. You know you're just a teenager, at marriage, you can drive it but there's still the occasional accident."

16. "Now I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country."

17. "Hmmm. I'll kill him. I'll kill him dead. Like with, with a, rock or something. Like a, like a stone."

18. "I am the author. You are the audience. I outrank you!"

19. "[Clemenceau] said war was too important to be left to the generals. When he said that, 50 years ago, he might have been right. But today, war is too important to be left to politicians. They have neither the time, the training, nor the inclination for strategic thought. I can no longer sit back and allow Communist infiltration, Communist indoctrination, Communist subversion and the international Communist conspiracy to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids."

20. "We didn't exactly believe your story, [name], we believed your 200 dollars. I mean you paid us more than if you had been telling us the truth, and enough more to make it alright."

21. "She's so deliciously low. So horribly dirty."

22. "I got a good mind to join a club and beat you over the head with it."

23. "I don't rattle, kid. But just for that I'm gonna beat you flat."

24. "He was the patron saint of quality footwear."

25. "Who's the fellow owns this shithole?"

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Friday, July 6, 2007

Anime Expo 2007 - Day One: Part One
Another year, another Anime Expo. If that sounds ominous, then it's because that is how it is meant to sound! In many ways this was a pretty frustrating year at AX, because of the location and because things generally seemed out of whack in terms of how everything was organized. However, I'll try not to dwell on it too much (i.e. I'll mock it juuuuuuuust right), since I'm not interested in jumping on the AX 2007 hate bandwagon (even if many complaints are completely justified) and because I had a good time, anyway, despite the annoyances.

Anyway! Here we are, once again, standing at the edge of something spectacular, or perhaps it is spectacularly something. At any rate, we are gathered here today to witness, via reading, the story of one nerd's journey into the world of a cavalcade of nerds along with his nerd friends. And by "his," I mean "my."

The morning of July the 1st was warm, indeed, though by California standards it was what we like to call "Sunday." I had recently decided to engage in cosplay at AX; however, the heat was giving me second thoughts. My costume was simple, but it was also something that could get me drenched in sweat within five seconds, so there were definite pros and cons to be weighed. In the end I decided to stick with the costume, because I couldn't bear to face you guys and gals without having worn a costume of some sort.

My suspicions proved correct, as within about five seconds of me dressing up I started sweating like Humbert Humbert at a middle school talent show. Thank God for fans, windows, air conditioners, shade, and ice, though not necessarily in that order. Despite my body apparently attempting to drown itself, I was all ready to go. You might be wondering what my costume was that day (or not if you visit OB and/or your entertainment for the week doesn't hinge upon some dork's descriptions of his bodily fluids). If so, then you are in luck because here it is now woo!!

Yep, there I am in all my cosplay glory. I'm dressed as post-haircut Aizawa from Death Note. To make a conservative estimate, I believe about zero people recognized who I was. Or, if they recognized me, they just didn't care enough about Aizawa to take a photo and steal my soul. That's what I get for dressing up as a quasi-important tertiary character who doesn't have any distinct costume or features (at least the version of him I cosplayed doesn't). Then again, because my cosplay seems to be nigh-unrecognizable, there is at least plausible deniability should a future employer, who for some reason has a rather large bias against cosplayers (maybe he cosplayed as a child and was laughed at for his poor rendering of Astro Boy's hair), stumble upon this page and see me dressed in full costume.


"Um, no, sir, I was actually showing up those dirty cosplayers by dressing much nicer than they did. All that talk about cosplay was just a joke."


With everyone ready to go, we headed out to pick up my sister's friend, Danny, who needed a ride to the convention. However, here is where we hit the first snag of the day - apparently some time between Saturday night and Sunday morning, 7:15 AM became 7:45 AM due to my brother's inability to tell time. Thus, when we came to get Danny, he was still eating his breakfast. He was quite upset about having to abandon his waffles, and he demanded compensation. Together, we decided that his waffles were worth exactly $100, and that my brother should bear the responsibility of finding suitable replacement waffles. (To this day, good enough waffles have yet to be found.)

After that, my dad drove us all to the Long Beach Convention Center. The drive was uneventful, save for random conversation about expensive Disney chocolate-holding tins and whether the tins would be more expensive with less chocolate in them. (The verdict: Yes, although there must be at least some chocolate for maximum expense to exist.) As we arrived at the convention center, I knew all the maps I had brought with me would be useless, because 1) The general layout of the LBCC is designed to be as irritating as possible to anyone who actually wishes to find his or her way around the damn place and 2) I have the map-reading ability of a lobotomized trout. I attempted to become a bold and fearless leader by dragging my wards around, but, true to my amazing skills, I ended up lost with five seconds.

So, I swallowed my pride and asked for directions to the registration area. And, of course, I proceeded to get lost again. After receiving help from more people, our group finally found our destination, where we were immediately split up. Because my siblings and I had pre-registered, we went into the much shorter line, whereas Danny got into the humongous at-con registration line. Our reaction was essentially, "sux 2 be danny lol." We are fantastic friends.

This is my sister, Cynthia, standing near the pre-registered line. It looks semi-lengthy, but it advanced pretty quickly. My siblings apparently overheard an amusing conversation involving a slice of chocolate cake with whipped cream and "A CHERRY," but I was off in another dimension when this happened.

This is my brother, Robert, contemplating nothing in particular. He did not know I had snapped his photo until I showed him this the next day, and he seemed quite annoyed that someone actually dared to take his photo.

After a relatively short wait, we gained entrance to the Seaside Lobby, where everyone was to pick up their badges. I didn't get a photo of it, but soon before my siblings and I were called to pick up our badges, one of the volunteers decided to sneak onto an apparently forbidden computer, whereupon he was yelled at by the staff. ("STOP! DON'T TOUCH THAT!") He seemed embarrassed that someone had caught him in the act; afterwards, he slinked away into another room with his shoulders slumped, were, I presume, he committed seppuku.

With badges and Official Anime Expo 2007 Program Guides in hand, we did the only thing we could at that point: Get lost again. Yes, somehow (read: by my doing) we managed to go around in a complete circle to the place we were handed the programs. However, one benefit of this was that we got to pass by Danny (who was still in line), and we proceeded to greet him by showing off our badges like assholes. Once again, Danny was annoyed.

Following this, we finally got our bearings straight and were on our way to the main area of the convention center. It was a long walk, but fortunately it was still somewhat cool at that point in time. The weather, however, was just about the only thing that was cool outside, as evidenced by this photo...

Out of nowhere, a pack of people riding Segways suddenly roared (well, whatever the Segway equivalent of a roar is, anyway) past us toward God knows where. I tried to get a photo of a bunch of them together but to no avail; still, I'd say there were about 25-30 of them flying by. Cynthia tells me one of them posed for a few moments on the bridge, but alas, I was unable to get a photo of him, too. I missed all the good photo opportunities. :(

We still had an hour to go until the exhibit hall opened, so our plan was to head to Borders, where my sister would use her Borders Gift Card to buy the Spring Awakening OBCR, Paul McCartney's Memory Almost Full, and a paperback copy of Spring Awakening. Unfortunately, Borders was still closed, because they don't like to profit too early in the morning, I guess. A short rest in the nice, air-conditioned halls of the convention center later, we decided to get into the line of congoers waiting for the exhibit hall to open.

This line was a fair bit longer than the pre-reg line. It stretched out alongside the outer portion of the convention center, snaked past the parking lots, and came to a stop around a corner about two streets down from where we started. The nice part was that the clouds had decided to part and make way for the sun to shine down on all our happy heads. Thanks a lot, you son of a bitch.

While all this was happening, I was keeping correspondence with Danny, who wanted to catch up with us after he received his badge. To give another idea of how long the line was, Danny called me to ask where our part of the line was, and I told him. Soon after I hung up the phone, Robert spotted Danny about twenty feet away from us. Yes, all the time we had gained on Danny was lost in the black hole of the line. To be fair, though, me getting us lost yet again must have sapped a good 10-15 minutes from our lead.

There was another visitor to our merry band, as well - my friend Vincent, who you may or may not remember from posts about past AX excursions that I may or may not have written! Hurrah!

This, however, is not Vincent. This is a cosplayer, and she is cosplaying A.B.A. from the Guilty Gear fighting games. Paracelsus, her key/weapon, is pretty impressive; I can't imagine it was much fun to lug it around the entire time, though lol. Putting that much work into cosplaying is simply beyond my capacity.

She didn't seem to be too concerned about the length of the line, but our group was. I'd say we stood completely still in line for about 15-20 minutes after the exhibit hall was supposed to have opened before the line started moving even a little bit. I hear a bunch of lines, especially for the various concerts, were much worse than that, though. Pretty lame. We did eventually make it into the exhibit hall, however, which is what really matters.

Random photo! Vincent stopped this person and snapped her photo right away, and I followed suit because I am nothing but a sheep. Anyway, uh, if she is cosplaying a specific character, then I am unaware of who it is. Dagger? Someone more knowledgable than me? Bueller??

Most of our first run through the exhibit hall was to be dedicated, as always, to checking out what people are selling and comparing prices, because it is a beautiful thing to be as cheap as possible. Also we went along taking photos of cosplayers, but, as mentioned in an earlier post, I took far fewer pictures of them than I normally do because I've seen about 90% of the characters numerous times in the past. This is my fourth year at AX... I know I'm going to see an assload of Naruto cosplayers, Bleach cosplayers, and so on and so forth. I'm pretty tired of them by this point, so I can only assume that you guys and gals are as well. So, I tried to stick with characters I hadn't seen before or had only seen very rarely.

So to prove that point, here are Shadow and Knuckles, two characters you have surely never seen before in your lives! Actually, I'd never seen anyone dress up as them before, especially not in full bodysuits. I can only imagine how awful it must have been to walk around in those all day. Yuck. All the uproarious laughter that surely must've been thrown in their general direction probably didn't help their moods either.

One thing I noticed was people at booths being more "salespersony" this year. For example, take this juggler. As we passed by, he juggled faster, drawing us closer to his booth his with hypnotic juggling skill. Some of the video game peddlers were also allowing people to sample their wares, mostly in the form of Nintendo DSes attached to the booths via obscenely strong cables. Most people, however, simply yelled about their products. I didn't take a photo of the yaoi booth, but you wouldn't need one to know they were the most yelltastic. The way they were yelling reminded me of Duck Soup where Chico Marx walks with his cart yelling, "PEANUTS!! PEANUTS!! GET YOUR TOOTSIE FRUITSIE!!" Only there's more tootsie fruitsie than peanuts, if you catch my drift.

The pachinko machines were pretty colorful, so I thought they would make for a nice picture. I must say, though, that I find pachinko to be a bit confusing. I mean, there are a bunch of pinball-esque balls that are used in the machines, but apparently they have no effect on the video slot machine in the middle. So, why are they there? My theory is as follows: Balls are fun. That's about it.

However, you don't need balls to have fun with this! An astounding amount of nerds must have been swindled into playing this thing; it took practically all of my strength to keep myself from playing it, and I barely even knew how to play! But, man, when R2-D2 asks you to waste all your money, you have to be some kind of person (read: broke) to not listen to the little guy.

Here is Vincent in all his glory, posing with a pair of $20 cat ears. No, he didn't buy them. But he was tempted. Awfully tempted.

Kind of jumping ahead to later on in the day with this photo, but I believe it is much more important to keep up with the theme of cats than to establish any semblance of a logical sequence of events. Plus, I am sick and cranky. Anyway, Vincent and my siblings saw this cat, and they knew right away that they absolutely, without a doubt, as though driven by a deep instinctual desire, had to pose in front of this cat. Cynthia and Vincent are miming cats; Robert, in his words, seems to be miming "a rat."

Hm. I hope you'll forgive me for cutting this post off a bit abruptly. I wanted to cut this one day into two parts, but various things (having fun with stuff, going to a 4th of July party, being sick as a dog and too zonked out to remember what I did fifteen minutes ago, much less five days ago (and this is without taking any medication, mind)) have delayed this first post far too long, and I just want it posted completely already. What was to be the next post will be split in two and hopefully that will allow me to get them out quicker. Who knows with my posting habits these days, though.

Here are the major things I bought to make up for the lack of photos:

Vols. 6-12 of Death Note. A bunch of people were short on Vol. 10, for some reason, and Vol. 7 was almost impossible to find.

The Vol. 1 Special Edition DVD set of The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. I wouldn't normally drop the amount of money I did to get this, but, to be fair, I was blinded by the awesome of everything that came with it. And I still am, frankly. I love Haruhi, so I do not regret this purchase for a moment.

...nor did I regret buying the limited edition Vol. 2 set. Not quite as awesome as the Vol. 1 set but still super cool, although probably not super cool enough for me to avoid the mocking laughter of all my loverly online friends. :)

Anyway, here ends the post. Potential things you may or may not see in the next post: Moogle hats! An extra special Wii remote! Haruhi Suzumiya herself! Engrish galore! Lots of pointing! And much more!

Now if you'll excuse, I am off to play more of my recently acquired Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney - Justice for All. It's time for me to totally own Franziska von Karma.

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Saturday, January 13, 2007

Beeswax, Not Yours Inc.
Time to fulfill the resolution I got via Tony!

So, yeah, I've been quiet for a while. Mostly bad scheduling (I stay at school late Monday-Thursday, awesome!!) and plenty of studying have kept me from updating. This weekend will probably be the only relatively work-free weekend I'll have for the next couple of months. I'd like to say that I will spend my free time doing something noble and worthwhile, but you all know me, so I won't insult you with any of that dribble.

Anyway, first order of business: I'm a sports reporter! Not just any sports reporter, however... a sports reporter for a college newspaper whose readership cares about athletic programs almost as much as it cares about cockroaches with rare heart disease. Yes, my friends, I have hit the big time.

I know what you're thinking: How did I manage to score such a prestigious position? It went a little something like this...

I was sitting in the newspaper meeting room, looking over the budget listing, wondering what assignment I would take. To be honest, none of the stories looked interesting to me at all; most of them were the types of assignments that you know students only take so that they can get enough submitted stories to pass the class. Being the absolute professional journalist that I am, I washed my hands of all of those stories, and proceeded to look confused while wondering why I was being such a dope my first day on the job. The answer, of course, is that it comes naturally.

A few moments later, Daniel, the paper's editor-in-chief, snapped me out of my dream world by noting aloud that I was the only reporter without a story left in the room. The pressure mounted; I had to think fast, and do it without sweating bullets, because, unfortunately, I wouldn't be sweating actual bullets, unlike in the cartoons, so I wouldn't be able to kill anyone and make a swift exit. I then stole a quick look to the far left of the room where Mike, the sports editor, was sitting. Earlier in the meeting he had tried, to no avail, to get someone, anyone, to be a sportswriter. Nobody bit, because, once again, nobody cares about cockroaches with rare heart disease, unless he or she enjoys giving cockroaches heart attacks by jumping around corners and scaring the living daylights out of them. Those sick sadists.

I looked down at the budget. There were essentially two stories left: Women's basketball and the Cal Poly Federal Credit Union winning an award. Tell me, my amigos, which one would YOU take? The choice was easy for me. I decided to be vaguely noncommittal in the hopes that the delaying tactic would give me time to think. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Credit = boring. Unions = boring. Credit + unions = very boring. The simple math of my youth once again pulled me through a sticky situation, whereas Calculus still proves to be completely useless to anyone other than sick mental patients.

So, obviously, I took the women's basketball job. And what a job it is! Because women's basketball is now my beat, I have a guaranteed story each week, so I don't have to fish through all of the crap like wondering what the hell snowboarders are up to or getting the same canned answers about the unfinished parking structure week in and week out. Research is also nice and simple thanks to the California Collegiate Athletics Association website, which lists the major stats of every game so that I'm never at a loss for random statements to make in my game recaps, such as "Monterey Bay went on a 7-0 run to take the lead, 26-20, with 2:34 left in the half." Look at all of the numbers! It makes me all happy and glowy inside.

My first assignment was last week. The team was on the road, in San Francisco, no less, so I got to sit on my lazy ass and report from home instead of going to the game and sitting on my lazy ass there. The information gathering went smoothly, but the interview I had with the head coach could have gone better. And by "could have gone better" I mean, "Boy, a nice mushroom cloud over my home would have been swell right about then, golly gee." Perhaps not that bad, but then again, you have to admit that dying as the first victim of a nuclear holocaust would be a nice way of getting out of responsibilities.

Anyway, the interview. It almost never happened. Days before, I'd made certain to schedule the interview with the coach through Cal Poly's sports information director, Paul Helms. He assured me that Sunday morning at either 9:00 or 10:00 AM would be the best time to call the coach, and, naive fool that I am, I believed him, because, hey, people are always on time for things, right? Right? I'll give you all a few minutes to cackle hysterically at me.

Okay, that's enough.

Long story short (too late), I called the coach for about two hours, finally got tired of hearing the same "I'm not here~" message over and over again, and then left a message of my own practically begging her to call me because I was on a ZOMG STRICT DEADLINE. I had lost command long ago, and my confidence was seeping away. Of course, that was when the coach called me back; I think that she calculated the exact moment I would be most off-guard and decided to call then. I sludged through the interview as quickly as I could (the coach sounded annoyed that some pissant college sportswriter would call her cell phone and have the audacity to request an interview to take place "ASAP") and wrote the story in no time at all, meaning I got the story done after spending an hour wondering just what the hell was more important than what. God bless the inverted pyramid.

The article seemed to go over well, though, and that brings us to today (or yesterday as it will be when I actually post this). This was my first actual home game; I wanted to have a good time. Things looked up when I arrived... Mr. Helms showed me to my seat at the PRESS TABLE~! and made me feel as though I were more than some dip writing an article that maybe five people outside of the women's basketball team will probably read. I also sat next to an (unlike me) actual sports reporter, Pete Marshall of the Inland Valley Daily Bulletin, who introduced himself to me, though I didn't catch his name at first, because, apparently due to God's will that life be as sitcom-ish as possible, a loud horn sounded off just as he told me his name. We then shook hands, after which he went off to get some food, just before I could shout, "THE HORN BLOCKED YOUR NAME, WHOEVER YOU ARE." I was dreading a Seinfeld moment the rest of the night; thankfully, it never came.

It probably would have been easy to simply ask his name again upon his return, but that would have meant admitting that I can't hear through loud horn noises, an essential quality for surviving day-to-day life.

The game itself did not go so well for the women. They've gone through a lot of crap this season (two coaches quit unexpectedly before coach Michelle Fortier took over), and they've been struggling a bit. Taking on Chico State, the #7 ranked team in America, did not do too much to help. Cal Poly got trounced in the first half, though they actually outplayed Chico State in the second half. How much of that great second half play was due to Chico State just cruising along due to a big lead, I don't know, but it's a positive.

Less positive, however, was the fact that I got snubbed during halftime and after the game. Before the game, Paul Helms promised Mr. Marshall and I that we would get stat sheets at halftime and after the game ended. Guess who got them and guess who didn't? Hint: The person who has actually earned professional respect. It doesn't matter that much, since I can get all of the stats online, but, still, a snub is a snub, and it must be paid back with blood and vengeance. Or, it would be if I were some sort of supervillain or a vigilante.

(I also wish swift vengeance upon the lady who sat behind me all night screaming. I have to say, hearing some soccer mom shout, "COME ON, HUSTLE!!!!!" and whatnot all night long in the shrillest, most shrewish voice I've heard in quite a long time was the highlight of my night. The cherry on top would have been witnessing her being ripped apart by wolves, after which her vital organs would be used for decoration.)

Still stinging from not getting the stat sheets, I followed Marshall to a conference room where we interviewed Coach Fortier, by which I mean he interviewed her while I sat back and leeched off the quotes he was getting. It worked out okay, since he inquired about everything I had wanted to ask about, and I got plenty of quotes to use. I'll have plenty of time to brush up on my interviewing skill when the team goes on the road, anyway.

And that was about it for my night. The ladies have another game tonight, against Cal State Stanislaus, and hopefully they'll be able to feed off the momentum they had during the second half against Chico State. And if they do that, maybe even a loser like me will be able to succeed! Yeah! I could even get stat sheets tonight!!

Anything is possible.

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