ball of lightning [dot] com

So I sat at the light at the intersection of East/Thurston and University going to bowling practice today. And I sat there just thinking about something completely irrelevant at the time– while doing so I just sat at the intersection while the light went from red to green—- to yellow to red; and a large number of confused freshman waiting to cross looked on. I’m even more amazed that the line behind me (three or four cars deep) did not beep or make any kind of motion to get my ass in gear.

Granted I was somewhat hungover, but– wow. Oh well, I’m retarded– straight up.

Oh, and I was driving down some random road in downtown Ithaca (State?) which is a two-lane one way street. I was in the right lane minding my own business following a green pickup when I see him signal left. So he’s switching lanes I guess… I keep driving thinking nothing of it, when he begins to turn– not switch lanes– TURN from the right lane across the left lane. To my horror, there is a blue Volvo hauling ass on my left side, so like a slowmo action movie there is an amazingly large crunch no more than 10 feet to my northwest. The Volvo incurred a great deal of damage after plowing into the pickups driver side, so it stopped in the intersection, while the driving up the pickup– in shock no less– turned straight and drove for a half a block before turning into some business. I couldn’t come up with something smart to do or say so I just– kept driving.

Too close for comfort.

The Cornell bowling team is ranked 19th in the country according to CollegeBowling.com’s power rankings.

How bout them apples?

Once again, I find myself drawn deep down into the depths of all that is university physical sciences. I miss the teachings of Duffy, Gregori, Stein, and Bush– which involved no equation harder than PV=nRT. Oh gases, why are you no longer ideal? I haven’t quite hit that wall I hit both semesters last year, where I felt so utterly overwhelmed by the magnitude of work that I nearly cracked on more than one occasion. I realize that I’m not built to succeed in this environment– I’m more of a grind by, come up big when you need to, always living on the edge– which in itself can be very exciting, but it’s not worth it, trust me. I can’t do it. I can’t sit down and concentrate on something for more than an hour at most. It’s gotten worse since I’ve been here too. In high school– I’d still wait til the last minute to hammer out that 15 page paper– but when the dust settled, I still managed to churn out a kickass paper. Since I’ve been here it’s been a little harder– I’ve turned in two astro papers and one philosophy paper so far, and all 3 have received just slightly above average marks– a far cry from semester one last year where I aced all of my writing assignments. I also seem to struggle with foreign material– mainly calc-based waves and optics– what happened to S(x) = Asin(rt)cost(wt)? Well it’s still there but since when did amplitudes become complex– or partial derivatives determine the tensile forces on a string which resonates with a standing wave– which each chunk ALSO undergoing simple harmonic oscillation?

If only I liked law or history– I’m so damn good at memorizing shit and regurgitating it. Oh well. I’ll be less bitchy if you talk to me in person.

Via Joanna:

Donald Rumsfeld was giving George Bush his daily briefing.
He concluded by saying, “Yesterday, 3 Brazilian soldiers were killed.”

Finally, George looked up and asked,”How many is a brazilian?”

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Retail Alphabet Game.

Each letter of the alphabet is cut out of a famous brand-name consumer logo. It’s your job to match each one up.

Go ahead, try it. And when it’s 4 AM and you can’t sleep because you can’t figure out where that fucking V comes from– well…

Rotoworld.com lets it speak for itself.

Someone told me “two wrongs don’t make a right.” No shit.

If we consider a wrong to be a -x, and a right to be a +x, then;

(-x) + (-x) = (-2x) = 2(-x) where [wrong = -x, right = +x]

This is not only not a right, it’s two times the given wrong (assuming the wrongs are equal in magnitude).

Which makes sense.

Once upon a time, back in the days of Troop 1 in Torrington, one of my elder scouts (and by elder, they were a sophomore in high school, where I was in eighth grade) told me about the Satanic messages in “Stairway to Heaven.” Well, it was a cool story back then, it’s even cooler when you are really quite bored and have audio software.

Forward version of “Stairway to Heaven”

“If there’s a bustle in the hedgerow, don’t be alarmed now, it’s just a spring clean for the May queen. Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run there’s still time to change the road you’re on.”

Reverse version of “Stairway to Heaven”

“Oh, here’s to my sweet Satan. The one who’s little path would make me sad, whose power is Satan. He’ll give you give you 666, there was a little toolshed where he made us suffer, sad Satan.”

All I did was reverse the files– I was going to do some noise cancellation and whatnot, but I thought that would detract from the whole “cooooool” aspect of it. I doubt Jimmy Page is a satanist, and this is more than likely a freakin’ awesome coincidence. But if it actually was intelligent, Mr. Page– you are a brilliant man.

Yeah, I’m a dork. Sue me.

All I want is to be recognized. I want to be special. I want to be the first person someone thinks of when they hear a song. I want someone to see something and they call me and go “Colin, guess what!?!” I want someone to just be sitting and class and just go “I wonder what Colin’s doing right now?” I want people to say “You know, I think it’d be more fun if Colin was here, too.” I want to wake up in the middle of the night to a random text message, I want to interrupt class sometime with a random phone call. I want people to think of me spontaneously, like I think of everyone else spontaneously. I want people to care about me, like I care about them. I want people to make sure I’m alright, like I check in on everyone else. I don’t want the world to revolve around me. I want to revolve around the world like everyone else, just not in the shadows. I want to be on the warm inside, not standing on the front porch in the freezing cold. I want to get out just a fraction of what I put in, not even everything– I’ll take the loss if I have to, but not zero either.

If people would show something, it would make. my. life.

MISS HOOVER: Now, take some paste and spread it on the construction paper… Ralph! Are you eating your paste?
RALPH: No Miss Hoover.

RALPH: Daddy, I’m scared. Too scared to wet my pants.

FLANDERS: Ralph, you’re going to be on special teams.
RALPH: I’m special.

RALPH: You’re going to heaven.

RALPH: Goodbye witches… thanks for not eating me!
CHIEF WIGGUM: Yeah, you hags are all right!

MISS HOOVER: I need a volunteer to present an oral report on Principal Skinner’s life.
RALPH: Miss Hoover? Which one is oral?
MISS HOOVER: Out of your mouth Ralph.

MISS HOOVER: Volunteers? (pause) Thank you Lisa.
RALPH: No Miss Hoover, I’m Ralph.

RALPH: When I grow up I wanna be a principal or a caterpillar… I love you, Principal Skinner!

TESTING GUY: Here’s your scientifically selected career.
RALPH: Salmon Gutter?

RALPH: Hi Super Nintendo Chalmers! (to Superintendent Chalmers)

RALPH: I ated the purple berries.
BART: How’d they taste Ralph?
RALPH: Oooo, ahhhhh, they taste like… burrrrning…

RALPH: Principal Skinner, I got carsick in your office.

RALPH: Ms. Hoover, the movie’s over.
LISA: Where’s Ms. Hoover?
GIRL: Hey, her car is gone.
RALPH: Maybe she drove to the moon.

RALPH: Daddy, when I grow up I wanna be just like you.
CHIEF WIGGUM: Better start eatin’ kid.

RALPH: Look Big Daddy, it’s Regular Daddy.

RALPH: Daddy, these rubber pants are hot.
CHIEF WIGGUM: You wear ‘em till you learn, son.

RALPH: I’m pedaling backwards.

RALPH: My knob tastes funny
TESTING OVERSEER: Please refrain from tasting the knob.

RALPH: Miss Hoover? The floor is shaking.
MISS HOOVER: Ralph, remember the time you thought the –
(gusher explodes through the ceiling, taking Ralph with it)

RALPH: Can you open my milk mommy?
MISS HOOVER: I’m not mommy, Ralph, I’m Miss Hoover.

RALPH: Dear Miss Hoover, you have Lyme disease. We miss you. Kevin is biting me. Come back soon. Here’s a drawing of a spirochete. Love, Ralph.

RALPH: Mrs. Krabapple and Principal Skinner were in the closet making babies and I saw one of the babies and the baby looked at me.

RALPH: I dress myself.

MISS HOOVER: Now, take out your red crayons.
RALPH: Miss Hoover?
MISS HOOVER: Yes Ralph?
RALPH: I don’t have a red crayon.
MISS HOOVER: Why not?
RALPH: I ate it.

RALPH: Mr. Simpson.. the tar fumes are making me dizzy.
HOMER: Yeah.. they’ll do that.

RALPH: Hehe… it says choo-choo choose me… and there’s a picture of a train!

RALPH: Was President Lincoln OK?

SERVANT: Your broth.. Mr. President.
RALPH: I ask for no broth! Away with you lest my cane find your backside!
SERVANT: Umm.. yes.

CHALMERS: Are these children as smart as they look?
PRINCIPAL SKINNER: Well, let’s pick one at random… ummmm how about that one?
CHALMERS: You mean this boy here?
SKINNER: Nooo! Lisa Simpson.
CHALMERS: When was the Battle of New Orleans?
LISA: January 8th, 1815. Two weeks after the war ended.
CHALMERS: First rate.
RALPH: What’s a battle?

RALPH: Then the doctor told me both my eyes were lazy. And that’s why it was the best summer ever.

RALPH: Lisa!
LISA: Hi Ralph, you were great tonight.
RALPH: Awwww.. thanks.
LISA: I’ve got something for you.
RALPH: Let’s be friends…. it says be and there’s a picture of a bee on it!… hehe.
LISA: I thought you’d like it.

RALPH: I am so glad you cho-cho-chosed to come…
LISA: I think you should give that a rest Ralph.

RALPH: At least you guys are my friends… awwww…
CHIEF WIGGUM: Son, I know just how you feel. You’ve got a great little girl and the world’s your oyster
RALPH: No dad, she made a fool out of me.
CHIEF WIGGUM: Hey! Come to think of it she did. Well, she didn’t reckon with the awesome power of the Chief of Police… now… where did I put my badge? Hey! That duck’s got it!… awww… c’mom… give it back…

PRINCIPAL SKINNER: Oh now we’re into the dregs… here’s Ralph Wiggum’s entry. Pre-packaged Star Wars characters still in their display box? Are those the Limited Edition Action Figures?
RALPH: What’s a diorama?

LISA: Sorry I….
RALPH: Leave me alone, I’m here to play George Washington!

SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER: Ralph, Jesus did not have wheels!

KRUSTY: What’s your name son?
RALPH: Ralph!
KRUSTY: And is this your girlfriend Ralph?
RALPH: Yes! I love Lisa Simpson and when I grow up I’m going to marry her!
LISA: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

RALPH: I beat the smart kids! I beat the smart kids! (trips) Oooooh… I bent my wookie.

RALPH: My cat’s breath smells like cat food.

RALPH: Miss Hoover, I glued my head to my shoulders.

RALPH: When I grow up I’m going to Bovine University.

RALPH: I ate all my caps…owww! (pop!)

RALPH: Will you cook my dinner for me? My parents aren’t around and I’m not allowed to turn on the stove.

RALPH: Miss Hoover? There’s a dog in the vent.
MISS HOOVER: Ralph, remember the time you said Snagglepuss was outside?
RALPH: He was going to the bathroom.

BART: Now is the winter of our discontent.
RALPH: Oh no! Run!

RALPH: Me fail english? That’s unpossible.

RALPH: My face is on fire.

PRINCIPAL SKINNER: And now with a flute up his nose, Ralph Wiggum.
RALPH: *toot*
CHIEF WIGGUM: That’s some nice flutin’ boy.

RALPH: Somebody took my juice money.

RALPH: Ewwww, Daddy, this tastes like Gramma!

RALPH: What’s for lunch tomorrow?
PRODUCER: Next.
RALPH: Chicken necks?

RALPH: The doctor said I wouldn’t have so many nosebleeds if I kept my finger out of there.

RALPH: I heard your dad went in a restaurant and ate everything in the restaurant and they had to close the restaurant.

RALPH: And I want a bike… and… a monkey… and… a friend for the monkey…
HOSEY THE FIRE SAFETY BEAR: But you’re not going to start any fires, are you little boy?
RALPH: At my house we call them “Uh-Ohs.”

RALPH: My parents won’t let me use scissors.
CHILDREN: Hahahahaha!
MISS HOOVER: The children are right to laugh at you Ralph. These things couldn’t cut butter.

RALPH: Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee… owwwww I bit my tongue..

RALPH: Miss Hoover?
MISS HOOVER: Yes, Ralph, what is it?
RALPH: My worm went in my mouth and I then ate it, can I have another one?
MISS HOOVER: No Ralph there aren’t anymore. Just try to sleep while the other children are learning.
RALPH: Oh boy Sleep! That’s where I’m a Viking!

MISS HOOVER: Children, I won’t be staying long. I just came from the doctor, and I have lyme disease. Principal Skinner will run the class until a substitute arrives.
RALPH: What’s lyme disease?

MISS HOOVER: You see, class, my lyme disease turned out to be (spells it on the board) psychosomatic.
RALPH: Does that mean you’re crazy?

RALPH:  I look like cable TV! (After being soaked in fake blood)

SKINNER: And special awards go to the two students who obviously had no help from their parents: Lisa Simpson and Ralph Wiggum.
RALPH: I’m Idaho!
SKINNER: Yes, of course you are.

Hoover’s class is reading essays entitled “The Happiest Day Of My Life.”
RALPH: … and when the doctor said I didn’t have worms anymore, that was the happiest day of my life.
MISS HOOVER: Thank you, Ralph. Very graphic.

LISA: Hi, fellaaass.
CHUCK: (after she leaves) Love that chewing gum walk.
RALPH: Veerrrry Wrigley.

Hoover’s class is taking a quiz…
RALPH: (whispering) Lisa, what’s the answer to number seven?
LISA: (whispering) Sorry, Ralph. That would defeat the purpose of testing as a means of student evaluation.
RALPH: (pauses) My cat’s name is Mittens.

Hoover’s class is taking another quiz…
RALPH: (whispers) Hey, Alison: what’s the answer to number nine?
ALLISON: (whispers) I can’t tell you, Ralph.
LISA: (whispers) I can’t tell you either, Ralph.
RALPH: (to Lisa) Leave me alone!

BART: Everybody! There’s a monster on the side of the bus!
JIMBO: Hey! There’s no monster.
RALPH: You’re deceptive.

RALPH: I’m a dog! (as he spreads his peacock tail)

RALPH: Oooo, owwww, even my boogers taste spicy!

RALPH: (in a locker with Milhouse) We’re a totem pole!

RALPH: I’m going to live with Underground Grandma!

RALPH: My sash says “Ultra-Man!” Haaaaaaaa—–ya!

RALPH: (To a wolf) Will you be my mommy? (Wolf picks him up and carries him off) You’re breath smells like dead bunnies…

RALPH:  (After getting thrown through a window) I’m a brick!

(Ralph is about to enter a door labeled “adult section)
BART: Uh uh!! You have to be four inches taller to go in the adult section!
RALPH: Ppppllllllleeeeeeaaaaaaaassssssseeeeee!
BART: Oh okay… But you have to stand on your toes.
(Ralph gleefully enters the room)
RALPH: Everybody’s hugging!

RALPH: I dropped my popstickle in your toy chest.

RALPH: Bushes are nice because they don’t have prickers, except when they do, and that one did, owww…

RALPH: That’s where the leprachaun was and he told me to burn things.

RALPH: I’m a pop sensation!

RALPH: (after a rat takes Chief Wiggum’s key) The pointy kitty took it!

RALPH: So, do you… like… stuff?

RALPH: (racing fruit on the bus)  Go, banana!

RALPH: (to Marge)  Your hair is tall, and pretty!
MARGE: Why thank you Ralph.
RALPH: (Marge puts her hand on Ralph’s shoulder) Help! She’s touching my special area!

RALPH: Wait mister! You’re drinking a candle!

RALPH: Prinskipper Skippel… Primdable Skimpsker… I found something!
SKINNER: Ralph, that’s your trough blade…
RALPH: And I found it!

RALPH: Slow down Bart, my legs don’t know how to be as long as yours!