I dreamed a dream.

This morning I had a dream that a bunch of family and friends came to celebrate something with me. Maybe a graduation, I don’t know. It was nice except everybody up and left about five minutes after they arrived. I am pretty sure it was because I hadn’t vacuumed. Delicious snacks and delightful company were outweighed by my gross negligence of housework.

I also dreamt that an evil plush bunny was laying on my bed. I tried to get closer to it so that I could lay hold of it and, I don’t know, throw it out the window, but it flung itself off of my bed and onto the floor. That should have been clue enough, but I tried to get near to it again and couldn’t. Maybe because of its evil powers?

The moral of the dreams is that if you come visit me there won’t be any evil stuffed animals and my place will be neat and tidy. What I’m getting at is that you shouldn’t believe everything that you’ve heard in my dreams.

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Sometimes I think.

  1. When I do push-ups my arms and my chest get sore, but not nearly as much when I do pull-ups.  I’m thinking that this has got to mean that pull-ups will make me buffer faster.
  2. Does every bird get its own nest? I can’t imagine that they do. I just don’t see enough nests. I mean, I see zero nests and there are so many birds that they couldn’t all have really well hidden nests.
  3. The Spanish word for “squirrel” is “ardilla”. That is pretty cute. You could totally use it as a name for a pet squirrel and shorten it to “ardi” and then maybe your friend would think that you were saying “arty”.  Ha ha, open your ears, man!
  4. Lesbians with lesbian friends have way too many options for smooch partners.  I bet if you were to ask a lesbian about the worst part of being a lesbian she would say deciding who to smooch with. Or maybe deciding with whom to smooch if she was real snotty about grammar.
  5. How could I quickly prove that I was from the future if I went back in time? I really don’t know history well enough to be able to prove things by quick prediction and slow predictions that took a while to come to fruition probably wouldn’t do me very much good. I should really compile a list of events I could use as proof in the even that I accidentally time travel.
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Please explain.

Pretending to not know things that everybody knows is a fun game that is super easy to play.  You just feign a lack of knowledge and keep a straight face.  Eventually you let on that you knew all along what they were talking about, which will put them at ease since normal folk don’t like believing that their friend is an idiot.  The trick with letting them know that you know is that the best way to do it is by pretending like you really don’t know it but are acting like you do so as to save face.  Oh gosh!

For example, one time I was home teaching with Addison and he said something offhand about Google and I interrupted in order to ask him what he meant by that.

“What did I mean by what?” he responded.

“Just … what is a Google?” I clarified.  He didn’t believe that I didn’t know what he was talking about but I am pretty good at straight-faced, good-natured incomprehension and I soon had him explaining to me what exactly a Google is and what you can do with one once you’ve caught it.

“How can you not know this?” he asked, at the end of his explanation, “Aren’t you a computer scientist?”

“Ha ha, yeah you got me.  I was just joking with you!  I know all about the Google,” I admitted.

“Oh … good, you had me worried.”

“Yeah yeah, I use it all the time to be … for to Google stuff and things,” I stated confidently.  “How … how do you spell it by the way?” I added as I pulled out a pen.

Another time I was having folk explain to me what Facebook is.  I acted pretty incredulous and they did their best.  Of course, I finally acted like I knew all about what a Facebook is with too much enthusiasm.  “Oh yeah,” I bragged, “I’m pretty popular and I’ve filled like three or four Facebooks.  Yeah, I would say I’ve definitely got three full Facebooks and a fourth that is getting pretty full.  Yeah.”

The only problem with this game is that when I really don’t know nothing about nothing I have to work real hard to convince people of my ignorance.  They say you shouldn’t cry wolf, kids, but what they don’t tell you is how consistently hilarious it is to do so.

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Bush & Obama.

Apparently the United States has spent around $1.2 trillion on war since 2001.  The estimated cost of building a space elevator is $10 billion and the estimated time is fifteen to twenty years.  We could already be well on our way to building a super sweet tether in the sky that would make trips to outer space cheap and plentiful.

Who are the dicks that are keeping me from vacationing on the moon?

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I am not obsessed.

Listen, I recently registered the domain pooppoop.net.  Go ahead and click the hyperlink … you’ll just come right back here.  There is a good reason for this and the reason is not that I can’t stop thinking about poop.  It isn’t.  Okay?  Okay.  Now that I’ve convinced you that I’m not fixated on feces let me provide some counter evidence.

In one of my Institute classes the teacher was collecting names and email addresses on a little piece of paper and I thought that it would be funny to put my real name and a fake email address.  Specifically “brotherknowles”, the teacher of the class, followed by “pooppoop.net”.  This caused me much merriment.  Later while eating with my friend Cassie I told her that Chinese food is the worst.  So bad, in fact, that you can email it using the address “chinesefood” at the aforementioned domain.  This idea struck me as so hilarious that I went on to spend twenty-seven dollars in order to make my fantasy a reality (another reason why being an adult is absolutely awesome).

Here we see: no regrets.

Anyway, part of the process of setting up email addresses included me specifying that any email not specified at poopoop.net should be forwarded to my real email address.  This is great because it gives me the opportunity to create awesome and seemingly fake email addresses on the fly.  For example, “ineedto”, “heathermarie”, “ohmanitwasntjustafartitwasactually”, “grapewho”, and cetera.

The flip side is that some people have already keyed in to the hilariousness of the domain and have subsequently been using it for making up fake email addresses.  I received setup information for RuneScape about a week ago and today I got two emails requesting that I reset the PlayStation Network password for a dude named Paul Simpson.  What are these people doing registering email addresses that they do not in fact own?  Now how is he ever going to change his password?  Through the phone?  That might be awkward since I’ve already changed it to “whymustipooppoopmypantswhenigetexcitedohnohereitcomesagain”.

(Please note: that password is also a legitimate email address when properly prepended to pooppoop.net.  Life, my friends, is good.)

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