• January 23, 2002: A day of infamy
• The Dangers of Physics
• From the street

Sometimes I get a little bored, and sometimes I get a little stressed out. But sometimes, I get a little crazy (wow, what an intro). This last category is often the most fun, embarassing, and worthy of sharing. Enjoy, and don't take it personally if you don't find it funny--you're not alone.

Another day of infamy

On January 23, 2002, in a little town called Denton, terrorism reared its ugly head. It was around 11:30, and I was in my second class of the day. It didn't take long for me to realize that something was wrong. Very wrong. Sirens and bells went off in my head, and if I'd had a spidey-sense, I'm sure it would have been tingling. I stood up calmly, and persuaded the rest of students to leave the classroom, for they were in danger of losing their very lives. Dr. Douglass was a little harder to convince, and required a strict definition of integrability before he would trust me with such unsupported claims of danger.

Sure enough, as we entered the stairwell of the GAB, the fire alarm strobes were flashing, and my warnings were vindicated. As we hurried down the wide stairways, each one of us thought of a loved one in the building, and hoped that they'd get out all right. Well, maybe not all of us, but I'm sure someone was thinking along those lines. As we reached the bottom of the edifice, also known as the second floor, we encountered that sickening stench that has plagued the nostrils of all who pass time in its ill-fated entourage. It is this essence of hatred and evil that poets have labored to meld into their work, the one element of war that movie directors pine about not being able to portray.

It is the smell, my friends, of burning popcorn.

No sooner than we found the odor did we find further evidence of the foul deed. On the ground (2nd) floor, was indeed the very tool of destruction.

As the group I led filed out into the brisk, late-morning air, there was only one thing in our minds: revenge.

What kind of self-respecting college student can't make a bag of popcorn? And who makes popcorn in the middle of the day anyways? Is it the fault of the residence life staff, for not educating the students with everyday college common sense? Or is it the fault of the popcorn manufacturing conglomerate, that fiesty corporation that pretends to fight for the rights of corn farmers and consumers alike, yet advocates leaving the popcorn in for 2-3 minutes when they know that cooking times vary from microwave to microwave, so for best results we should wait until popping slows to 1-2 seconds between pops.

Here's some more pictures from the area:

Hmm... going back to the scene of the crime?

The Dangers of Physics

When Sarah woke up one Friday morning, nothing was out of the ordinary. She went through her usual routine, and then started to do her physics homework. Intrigued by the nature of electrostatic forces, she decided to perform a few experiments and make a few calculations of her own. Unfortunately, she couldn't finish them because she'd forgotten the k_e constant. Undaunted, she looked at the one given in her homework. Unfortunately again, for this did not seem to be her day, the constant was blatantly incorrect in an attempt to stop cheaters from copying (or something). The results speak for themselves.

From the Street

As you may have heard, I grew up on the street. I never knew where my next meal would come from, or whether I'd have a cap over my head. My family, such as it was, moved constantly, from inner city to inner city. But I was smart: I played the game, knew it for what it was, and I survived on my own. At the peak of my ghetto years, I made this video to express myself.

[Currently residing on a tape in my room. As soon as I can get a VCR to tape it off and decent software to edit it, (and, I guess, someone to host it) I'll post it. Until then, peace ma brothas.]