By the way...

We did has a graduation.

Bitch.

Wren: "We could always just lie."
Maddo: "Matt is a convincing liar."
Wren: "So am I!"
Maddo: "Yeah, but it's more surprising coming from Matt."
Wren: "...HEY!"
Daryl: *sporfle*

I am going to miss this house.

The Boys:
Daryl: *quietly, to Matt* "Do you have any condoms? I need four."
Matt: "Er, no, I don't have any."
Me: *from other room* "I do."
Daryl: "You do?"
Me: "Daryl. Of course I do. What color do you want?"
Matt: "..."
Daryl: "I don't care. They're for Campus Films; I'm handing them out with the candy."

---

Maddo:
*In car. Goes to set down sixteen-ounce Jamba Juice, mis-judges her own strength, and hurls cup into dashboard.*
Me: "...What just happened?"
Maddo: *crumple*

---

Sarah:
Me: "All your posters fell down over break."
Sarah: "Oh, of course they did. I have no idea what I am going to do."
Me: "Use poster tabs! They fixed my problem!"
Sarah: "...I don't understand them."

A: Daryl

Daryl: "So if you get the pain therapy done, will you still have the weak hands and everything?"
Wren: "Yeah, but that's definitely better than the pain."
*pause*
Wren: "I guess I'll just have to make sure to never cling to ledges for dear life."
*pause*
Daryl: O_O
Daryl: "WHY WOULD YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?"
Wren: "There I am, gripping the cliff edge with three fingers. I look down. I realize I am fucked."
Daryl: "Like you'll ever be in that sort of situation!"
Wren: "You don't know what I do at night!"

Daryl: "So this is what it's like to go the speed limit!"
Wren: "Why are you going the speed limit?"
Daryl: "Because I didn't want to shift into third gear."
Wren: "Oh, so you're lazy."
Daryl: "Fine, yes. Don't you dare blog this."
Wren: "Okay."

Happy Halloween from Comic House!

It is now officially a Daryl Trifecta

Q: Why do these clippers suck?
A: Daryl.

I had my Old English midterm today. I have been sitting at the living room table, frantically absorbing the text on roughly eight billion handouts while surrounded by my amethyst-and-gold runes and fragrant candles for the past twenty-four hours. I called it my "circle of power," and it actually helped to a) keep me focused and b) ward everyone else off. ._. (I call that a success.)

Because of my hands, my prof agreed to let me come in 20 minutes early to get a head start on the exam. I head over to our scheduled meeting point this morning and spend twenty minutes sitting in the hall listening to Pink Martini because he completely forgot about me. Luckily, I managed to get the exam done in the required time--barely. I had two minutes to go. After that I recuperated in the science cafe with an enormous mocha and some Plato. Finally, I made it through Ancient Cities, eve though my professor was so sick he could barely hear. (Is it bad that I want to cover him in blankets and make him tea and soup?)

Okay. Trek through the rain. I get home, I collapse on the couch. I shut my brain down and enjoy my well-deserved lethargy.

And then Daryl comes home. He has finally decided his hair is disgusting (A fact which I have been trying to convince him of for the past month) and wants me to buzz his hair. Alright, fine, but we have no clippers. He wants me to go get them with him. I don't particularly want to move. He decides to take Matt instead.

Does anyone remember Toulouse, the man who lived in my closet and would pop out at intervals to yell "MISTAAAAKE" at me, tug at his pants, bow, and head back in? (I'd link, but it's secreted away in a pile of 2002 emo drivel.) I miss him. Sending two boys to do my job is not adequate, and I paid for it later.

He comes back with a set of clippers the size of my hand. Not only that, but the clippers have a name. They are called "The Peanut." (If that's not foreshadowing...) Daryl swears up and down that "the ladies at the store said they were one of the best clippers they had." (Note to self: attack ladies with "The Peanut" later.)

I decide to give them a chance and attack his head with them. Does the hair come off a la V for Vendetta or G.I. Jane? Oh no. Does the hair not move at all? Yes. I am brushing his hair with "The Peanut." It can't even keep buzzing when his hair goes through it. Daryl either has hair made out of woven steel, or these clippers suck. And I am comparing them to a set of clippers one of my friends found abandoned in a cabinet, covered under a thick layer of cat hair and dust.

A word to the wise: It violates a major law of the universe if bought objects suck more than found objects. Daryl's hair quickly became a black hole of evil, and as "The Peanut" tears its way through his hair, it begins to pull at his scalp in an attempt to have it all. "I AM ON FIRE," he finally screams, and I realize another tactic is needed.

To get the clippers to work I had to first cut his hair short with scissors, which felt great on my hands, let me tell you. After that they started working part-time. After a good 45 minutes of work, we had made progress, of a sort:

(Side note: see how my nails and tongue stud match perfectly? Yeah.)

All that hair on him? I put that there vengefully.

Luckily, with my resourcefulness, we managed to salvage his hairdo, and he now looks quite nice. The general consensus is that "The Peanut" is not really a clipper per se, but some sort of masochist's vibrator.

It has become a house meme

Q: "Why is there a jar of peanut butter under the table?"
A: Daryl

This is shaping up to be the best summer I've had in a long time.

Periodically over the years we have lived together, the members of Comic House have come up with shirts we felt we simply must create. My all-time favorite was the "Mr. Peen and the Vay-Jay-Jays" band shirt (which I still have every intention of designing), but at Matt's birthday dinner we came up with one that ... well, it may be the best thing ever.

THE HOMOSEXUAL AGENDA: Keeping children Play-doh free since 1983!

Yes, I will explain. We discovered at a table of two gay men, a bisexual male and female, and two straight females that there was a direct correlation between the amount of Play-doh eaten as a child and the consumer's resultant sexuality. People with no exposure to Play-doh, or those who never ate it, were gay. Those who ate it once or twice were bi. And those who thought it was a bedtime snack were straight.

Intrigued, we all asked our circles of friends how much Play-doh they had eaten as children, and the vast majority of the answers have followed this trend.

I, for one, find this to be amazingly awesome.

1 AM

Me: "I'm going to wake up early and study my ass off."
Sarah: "Yeah..."
Me: "You know, I wish that really worked."
Sarah: "What, getting up?"
Me: "No, studying my ass off."
Sarah: "...BLOG THAT."

I don't want to rearrange our living room...

There were 24 people at Heroes last night. That does not include the people who actually live in our house.

We've all got something on the brain...

In our defense, there was a two-day span for these. I was pressured into putting the second one up here by Sarah.

Diego: "So what are you putting an application in for?"
Daryl: "The Old Spaghetti Factory."
Me: "He dreams big."
Daryl: "...whaaat?"
Me: "Daryl. You're going to be a stereotypical gay waiter. "
Daryl: "No I'm not!"
Me: "So you're not going to be a waiter?"
Daryl: "....yes..."
Me: "Oh, so working there will magically make you straight? You might want to warn your boyfriend-- 'Sorry man, but their spaghetti really makes me crave pussy."
Room: *horrified laughter*

Matt: *singing song about being Mr. Saran Wrap to the Chicago soundtrack.*
Me: *snort* '''Let me store your leftovers'! It's a new euphemism for sex!"
Table: *iz ded*
Matt and Brandon: "Hey, it's not really 'leftovers'. We're still alive!"
Me: "Who says it's referring to your junk?"
Table: *lightbulbs*
Areta: "Oh God, this conversation is snowballing."
Table: "..." *iz ded some more*

Snow Day!

Well, not really. We had classes, of course, because we always have classes. And there's been snow on the ground since...the seventh or so. But there was fresh snowfall last night, so we decided to grab a few pics today. Photography credit goes to Sarah.



This is Areta, our fifth member for this semester while Madeline is abroad. She's from Caifornia, so is naturally fascinated by snow.



I happen to hate snow, but it's fun in small amounts. Such as this one. =D



I've stood out on campus more than usual today because everything is so white. Or my hair could just be that purple...

wtf mate? ^^

I was backdating my blog and realized I never posted the movie we made with us and S.T. Strange when he was a tiny.

We need to make one now that he is fat, lazy, and grownup.

::EDIT::
Now with 100% more link to the video in question...

Happy Halloween from Comic House!

"Sumo this, sumo that, sumo squash, sumother tiime..."

The beanbag came in today. It is large and red. Here is some proof. ^^









Comic House is in love. Sarah is, as well, but has forbidden pictures of her.

Thank God

I'm too sleepy to remember if I mentioned it here, but the girl who is leasing the room after me decided to move in ten days early. So, after my boss talked to a few people, I get to move into my campus house on the 14th. (Hopefully this means our furniture will be back by the 14th...)

Maddo, will you and/or Trevor be available on the 14th or 15th to move the bookcase, desk, and papasan back into the house since they won't fit in my car? We can have a move-in party and pretend we're all back in Comic House. >>

Oh God. Me in the house, two weeks early? I am going to clean, like...baseboards. It's going to be terrible.

Last Night: A Study in Madness

I've decided that the problem with Maddo, Sarah, and me hanging out with each other only once a week is that instead of our normal level of daily insanity, we feel we must CRAM AN ENTIRE WEEK'S WORTH into one night.

Thus, I present to you a textual smattering of what we brought down upon Olympia last night.

DRIVING:

Sarah: "Okay, turn up there."
Me: "Up where?"
Sarah: "There!"
Me: "...Which direction...?"
Sarah: "That way!"
Me: "SARAH!"
Sarah: "Left! Left!"
Maddo: XD

Maddo: "The turnabouts are coming up."
Me: "I love turnabouts."
Sarah: "Really?"
Me: "Yes, they're very efficient. So I go all the way through this one?"
Sarah: "Yes."
Maddo: "Wren, you were supposed to go right there."
Me: "I was going all the way through!"
Sarah: "It's fine. This is why it's a turnabout. Just get it on the next go round."
Me: "Correction: Efficient when Sarah is not the one giving directions."

AT DINNER:
I think I overdid the nerdslut look, because Sarah swears up and down the waiter (henceforth known as the Wall Gremlin) was giving me the eyes. Maddo thinks it was my rather bad timing in conversations:

Me: "Maddo, next time that happens, grab a lot of lotion, and give your legs a massa...
Wall Gremlin: "Can I get you another soda?"
Sarah and Maddo: *snerk*
Me: >.<

I'll leave the decision up to you. Tie+glasses, or bad timing?

And then some stuff that simply cannot be explained:

1) Sarah: "What the hell is that?"
Me: "...a lemon..."
Maddo: "Buttlemon."
Sarah: "Actually, it looks like a nipple."
Me: 9.9 *tosses it on her plate*
Sarah: "EW! I WAS GOING TO EAT THAT!"
Me: *Puts it on appetizer plate*
Sarah: *shoves it into the marinara dish*
Maddo: *covers in foccacia squares*
Me: "Oh my GOD."
Wall Gremlin: "...Ladies, can I get that plate out of your way?"

2) Maddo: *spits water all over table, chokes.*

AFTER X3: A story in three parts!

1) What I heard:
Me: "If I were a mutant, my superpower would totally be spontaneously generating ties."
Sarah: "From where?"
Me: "From my NECK, of course!"
Both: *Hysterical laughter*

2) What Sarah heard:
Me: "If I were a mutant, my superpower would totally be spontaneously generating pies."
Sarah: "... ...from where?"
Me: "From my NECK, of course!"
Both: *Confused laughter*

3) What Maddo (and her father) heard:
Both: *BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAFLOPFALLGASPSQUEAK*
Father (on phone): "What is that noise?"
Maddo: "Wren and Sarah."
Father: "What are they doing?"
Maddo: "What are they doing? Laughing. Loudly."
Me: "Oh God, he thinks I'm such a freak."
Father: "They are such freaks!"

MADNESS!

I decided that instead of making a long, wordy blog post about the Seattle trip, I would make a long, musical slideshow. Unfortunately, I didn't get it done before work, so look for this monstrosity to be posted in the wee hours of the morning.

When I should be sleeping in preparation for my exam.

^^;

::EDIT AFTER SLEEP::
Got it done last night, but was too tired to wait for it to upload. The .wmv is INCREDIBLY better quality than the .mov, so I would recommend watching it if at all possible. The .mov catches on transitions and keeps the photos out of focus at first. I'll probably try to tweak it and upload a better one later.

The $1K Weekend.wmv

The $1K Weekend.mov

Enjoy.

West-in? Wha? West-out. I sense a clever ghetto joke here, but I can't quite place it.

Yay for TV internet. Yay also for the Maddo sitting to my left and correcting my typing as I go. Actually, I stand corrected: she's "horizontal."

We're all three currently in the throes of a love-hate relationship with this hotel. On the one hand, the 43rd floor bay windows offer a lovely view of downtown Seattle + Space Needle + Lake Union and/or Washington. There's a pretty excellent room service menu, warm and heavy bathrobes, comfy, if overwhelming beds, and a dual-head showerhead in the bathroom.

However: In the first ten minutes we were in the hotel, I had to call the "service desk" twice, once for a lost bag, and then because they decided not to actually make our beds before we arrived. The shower, though lovely indeed, likes to "whistle as it works," deluging the ears of everyone in the hotel room with a dog-whistle-esque whine of pure rage and rebellion. Now that I think of it, the TV was doing the same thing last night, though that might be because it was reluctant to play the entirety of The New World. In retrospect, I don't really blame it, and if I were actually PAYING for any of this I would demand my money back from the concierge, possibly at knifepoint whie wearing a lovely bathrobe like a cape.
Actually, switch knife for "ice tongs". I like that mental image better.

Today we've been invited to watch the Uncle's race from the VIP boat, but we've decided we rather like the idea of skipping that (on pretense of the water air aggravating my symptoms) to go play aound in downtown Seattle all day. We're in a conveniently situated area for everything except Uwajimaya, which we'll probably make time for tomorrow on our way back into Tacoma.

There's also an "afterparty," but as I just told Sarah and Maddo, it will likely be full of post midlife-crisis, bored, rich thirtysomethings. And a LOT of booze. We are torn.

I'm being ordered to stop blogging and get dressed. I'm hungry, so I'm going to oblige. Sarah has been taking a lot of pics, so once we get back in town there will be another photoessay for everyone's (?) enjoyment.

After this, I'd say blogging in the library is the lesser of two evils...

Maddo and I are having a conversation, rife with mutual bitching about our finals, moving out, biased novel sources, etc. Suddenly, I snap.

Prince Abubu: agh! ACCIO SATURDAY.
Maddo: accio brain?
Prince Abubu: ACCIO MADDO.
Maddo: aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

After she types this, I look up just in time to see her ROLLING SIDEWAYS along the desk at me, arms outstretched, with a look of pure horror on her face. Upon arrival at my cubicle, she bursts into hysterical laughter and falls over.