Showing posts with label creepy things I do. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creepy things I do. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Conversations
[via text]
Me: Do you think fishnets with shorts would break the dress code?
A: Umm how many dollar bills* between the hem and knee? That'd be the only problem I think.
Me: 1.2 dollar bills. I wonder if the fishnets make it less, er, violationy.
A: Probably not. But I think you'd be fine.
Me: Oh, good. Because I like fishnets.
A: You're fantastic.
Me: No, your face is fantastic.
A: :-P Well I want to eat your face.
Me: Friendship may be two pals munching on a well-cooked face together, but it says in the fine print that it has to be the face of a third party.
A: Fine. We can eat Grace's face then.
Me: Yay! Graceface is my favorite!
A: Me too! This will be a good meal then. We'll make a toast to friendship.
Me: To the power of friendship! *clink*
A: *clink*
*Our dress code consists of a handy rule of thumb - shorts and skirts must be no shorter than the length of the a dollar bill above the knee, and straps must be at least the width of a dollar bill.
Me: Do you think fishnets with shorts would break the dress code?
A: Umm how many dollar bills* between the hem and knee? That'd be the only problem I think.
Me: 1.2 dollar bills. I wonder if the fishnets make it less, er, violationy.
A: Probably not. But I think you'd be fine.
Me: Oh, good. Because I like fishnets.
A: You're fantastic.
Me: No, your face is fantastic.
A: :-P Well I want to eat your face.
Me: Friendship may be two pals munching on a well-cooked face together, but it says in the fine print that it has to be the face of a third party.
A: Fine. We can eat Grace's face then.
Me: Yay! Graceface is my favorite!
A: Me too! This will be a good meal then. We'll make a toast to friendship.
Me: To the power of friendship! *clink*
A: *clink*
*Our dress code consists of a handy rule of thumb - shorts and skirts must be no shorter than the length of the a dollar bill above the knee, and straps must be at least the width of a dollar bill.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Ethnography of a Cemetery
For English class a while back, we were charged with studying a group of people and writing an ethnography. An ethnography is a paper on a particular "culture" of people, be it the patrons of a coffee shop or the people of an entire nation. In the paper, you are supposed to determine the rules by which the people live, especially if they're different from any stated rules, and you must figure out how the people are similar and what it takes to become one of them.
I actually wrote my paper on the Apple store at the mall, but the other day I was sitting in the cemetery having a picnic and came up with this gem.
Day 1: Spent day sketching in cemetery and slowly making my presence seem normal to them. Soon they will all forget I'm here at all... if they even notice I'm here in the first place. They're sort of a sedentary lot.
Day 8: Struck up a conversation with a lovely old woman today. She didn't talk much, but she nodded and twitched occasionally, and once she looked at me. That was actually the result of her eyes dropping out of her head, but I could tell she was interested. I think she need a bath, though.
Day 14: Am getting frustrated. None of the locals will talk to me. I will pleasantly attempt to start some small talk, but none of them respond. As far as I can tell, I've done nothing wrong - I have neither been offensive nor off-putting. I can only assume it's because I'm an outsider, and they are naturally suspicious of those unlike them.
Day 25: Today I tried to blend in with the natives by laying very still in the grass. I even acquired one of the fancy carved rocks that they all place by their head, and which I assume is a sign of social standing. The more important ones all appear to have the largest, fanciest rocks. I wonder if I do this consistently they will eventually come to accept me as one of their own.
Day 31: The natives here are still not talking to me. I'm not certain, and I hesitate to use this explanation as an excuse for ending my study, but I think, maybe, potentially, it's because they're all dead.
I actually wrote my paper on the Apple store at the mall, but the other day I was sitting in the cemetery having a picnic and came up with this gem.
Ethnography of a Cemetery
Day 1: Spent day sketching in cemetery and slowly making my presence seem normal to them. Soon they will all forget I'm here at all... if they even notice I'm here in the first place. They're sort of a sedentary lot.
Day 8: Struck up a conversation with a lovely old woman today. She didn't talk much, but she nodded and twitched occasionally, and once she looked at me. That was actually the result of her eyes dropping out of her head, but I could tell she was interested. I think she need a bath, though.
Day 14: Am getting frustrated. None of the locals will talk to me. I will pleasantly attempt to start some small talk, but none of them respond. As far as I can tell, I've done nothing wrong - I have neither been offensive nor off-putting. I can only assume it's because I'm an outsider, and they are naturally suspicious of those unlike them.
Day 25: Today I tried to blend in with the natives by laying very still in the grass. I even acquired one of the fancy carved rocks that they all place by their head, and which I assume is a sign of social standing. The more important ones all appear to have the largest, fanciest rocks. I wonder if I do this consistently they will eventually come to accept me as one of their own.
Day 31: The natives here are still not talking to me. I'm not certain, and I hesitate to use this explanation as an excuse for ending my study, but I think, maybe, potentially, it's because they're all dead.
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