a three-day weekend demands procrastination

to the tune of: Fallen Embers by Enya

And you'll find it here. History's always been good at providing a few laughs, but few are more amusing than its predictions for the future. Yes, flying cars, Moon men, flying saucers, electric death rays, nuclear-powered cars, and radio roller skates were all honestly envisioned by people in the last century as commonplace by 2000. While on the subject of radio, did you know that one day radio waves will eliminate the need to sleep, eat, or learn? Wow, people were stupid back then. Not at all like people now. We're much smarter, surely.

A shining example of smart modern-day people in full control of their machines. (Thanks to Dave for the link.)

Ben and Christine rocked tonight's Harmonics concert. That is all.

I feel like it's time to start a pool on when Housing will finally get their Web form back up. Originally scheduled for Wednesday, it's since slipped to Thursday, then Friday, and now "the evening of Sunday". The current plan leaves less than 48 hours to respond to summer housing assignments. Better than Rescomp I suppose.

The real reason for the delay? My theory: Housing and Dining has been placed under the jurisdiction of the Stanford Post Office.

and I thought _I_ watched too much Simpsons...

to the tune of: I'm A Survivor by Reba McEntire

...someone's compiled a complete map of Springfield, right down to the location of the "Ayn Rand School for Tots", "Stoner's Pot Palace", and the "Veterans of Popular Wars". Someone with waay too much time on their hands, clearly. But haven't you always wanted to know where the Springfield Republican Party met?

The Rains Work-Free Zone is all but officially established for the summer and next year. The Rains staff I talked to about roommate assignments was evasive, possibly because I caught her fleeing from the official office hours to a "meeting". But in theory the Final Four should be in the same apartment. But as anyone who's tried to deal with Housing lately knows, they ain't exactly organized...

Do not, no matter how much I say I want to, let me organize T-shirts for 250 people again. Not that there's much chance I would ever do this again, but just in case I get so deluded again, remind me of this solemn oath: I swear never to do this again. I don't know whether it's the people who just can't follow directions, don't read their e-mail (yes, even CS people), or the ones who think I just have my own personal suite with a T-shirt room, open 24 hours a day, or the ones who think I have nothing better to do. But at least we can have as much departmental dignity as the ChemEs with our very own T-shirt to show for it...

a facebook testimonial

to the tune of: Poema 15 by Atacama

At last, a real-life testimonial for thefacebook.com: Friday night while walking home from the nifty Stanford Film Festival (and I say walking because my bike is evil), I happened to notice a backpack lying on the ground outside Terman. A little digging revealed the owner's name, but he was nowhere in sight. So I trudged off to the Terman cluster to look him up. No phone number listed with Stanford. Not logged in anywhere. Standard stalking techniques failed. So I check thefacebook, and sure enough, he's there. Still no phone number. But I have his dorm room. So I call Ben, who lives on the same floor, only to find he's not around, or on AIM, nor is his phone number in the dorm list. But... his facebook profile also mentions he works at 5-SURE. So I call them, wondering if he were working that night. No dice...but a concerned co-worker gives me his cell phone number. Score! He was surprised that I found it...but grateful nonetheless. All thanks to thefacebook.com (big fake toothy grin).

Saturday night was Senior Formal at SFMoMA. It was fun, but really crowded. Revelations of the night:

Maxfield's has excellent salmon. Don't let the fact that someone else in your party just ordered it stop you...

Godiva closes half an hour earlier than they say on the phone. It must be some conspiracy to prevent having to deal with customers at night.

San Franciscans don't like highways. At least they don't like making it easy to find them. Or to get on them. Especially in the direction you want to go.

I can create modern art. If, by "modern art", you mean a blue canvas with the word NOISE printed on it. (The word evil painted in blood, though, I won't do.)

The first floor of MoMA is waay too small for 1400 people.

Photos from Senior Formal

Sunday was our secret initiation ceremony for Tau Beta Pi. They were very adamant about people not showing up late or leaving early or letting anyone see into the initiation room, and I am "honor-bound" not to divulge what went on there, under penalty of death. TBP has operatives everywhere. I can only say it involved hot coals and pain sticks.

Monday featured three no-shows for 106 IGs, which I ought not to complain about since this let me finish my homework due that day (oops...).

Mad props to Louisa for taking us on a 3:30 AM Safeway run for rubbing alcohol. It's the perfect antidote for a PowerBook that's had too much coffee to drink.

to the tune of: Anna Rose by Vienna Teng

Last night we went to see Shrek 2, which was so awesome. It spoofed everything from The Wizard of Oz to Lord of the Rings (and did so multiple times...). And there's nothing quite like Antonio Banderas' cover of Livin' La Vida Loca...

So sad:

WASHINGTON, DC-- In a response to recent acts of extreme violence against Americans in Iraq and mounting criticism of U.S. military policy at home, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld announced the government's new strategy of fighting terror with terror Monday.

"Look, in order to catch a rat, you gotta think like one," Rumsfeld said in a grainy and degraded videotape message filmed at an unknown location and released to CNN Monday. "We've been pussy-footing around the war on terrorism for years. All that time, the answer was right in front of us: In order to wipe out terror around the globe, once and for all, we've gotta beat them at their own game."

The rest of the article

Speaking of sad, Erin sent me this video, where you can watch the heroic slaying of a sleeping mountain lion. In true Palo Alto fashion though, a small memorial was erected for the lion and the shooting's sparked a public outrage. One almost as big as that over our post office...

roar

to the tune of: Mobile by Avril Lavigne

By far the best quote about the recent mountain lion scare appeared on the front page of the Mercury News and came from a frightened Palo Alto mother: "I have two small children, who'd make a pretty tasty treat for a mountain lion." I kid you not. And I was really hoping the mountain lion would win the ASSU special re-election...

By now you've no doubt discovered the work of great poet D.H. Rumsfeld. But did you know you can now buy the album? Yes, someone took our Defense Secretary's press-release poetry and got an opera singer to record it to music. The result is oddly hypnotic. Bizarre. But strangely sublime. And somehow better than the book.

i almost forgot...

to the tune of: All Of You by Vertical Horizon

see if you recognize anyone, or any certain schools, on Wheel of Fortune tonight and tomorrow night... (Stanford channel 27, 7:30). If I can wrest control of the TiVo for two minutes I'll try to tape it, but there's usually someone with less to do glued to the couch in the lounge.

And, wanna buy a P-P-P-Powerbook? An amusing tale of one guy with enough time on his hands to fight back against an e-mail scammer.

save the piñatas

to the tune of: Concerto For Piano And Orchestra No. by Beethoven

Each year, thousands of piñatas are brutally beaten. Unless another outlet can be found for our aggression, these docile creatures may disappear completely. So save the piñatas today. (Many thanks to Ben for finding it.)

The webserver's back up, along with my pictures. Sorry, I blame it on the experimental machine learning software I'm testing, which forced more reboots than I've done all year. But now it's happily churning away at my inbox, learning all it can about the tons of e-mail I get every day.

rockin around the clock

to the tune of: I Won't Dance by Frank Sinatra

Ahh, such a week. A busy week, but a rewarding week.

I got the CS Undergrad Course Advisor position! So now I have a way to pay for tuition and housing next year, which is always nice. I guess Stanford will hire me even when no one else will. Which will work out just fine for now, but might be troubling later on.

Wednesday was Grandpa's birthday. Dad told me this at some point and I diligently entered it in my calendar, so even though it was a surprise to me, Outlook remembered effortlessly. So I called to wish him a happy birthday, only to discover Mom thought it was Tuesday. Turns out they managed to convince him his birthday was then too--they made him a nice dinner and celebrated. So when his own brother called on Wednesday they got into an argument over when his birthday actually was. I'll never forget when my birthday is--the same day as, uh, the 1906 SF earthquake?

But of course, the highlight of the week was Big Dance. I did it--nine straight hours. This included:

Discovering that, yes, a face mask does somewhat obscure your field of vision.

A couple of wonderful waltzes. And redowa!

A hyper-speed polka contest I still maintain we would have won were it not for a little wardrobe malfunction.

Contra and line dancing at 2 AM: no one knows what's going on, but no one really cares...

The "lullaby suite" at 4 AM: Richard's evil attempt to put us to sleep

The chicken dance: Fun as a kid but dangerous in a room with 200 adults

Speed polkaing all the way through the Hampster Dance remix with Kelsey--without falling back on a promenade.

Photos of Big Dance

My feet were left sore but content.

Vem Magalenha rojão...

to the tune of: Naruto's Daily Life by Toshiro Masuda

Sadness... I spent much of Social 3 on Thursday sitting out because certain (cough, cough) women follows didn't show up for class. With three men too many I thought it better to let the ones who actually registered for the class dance.

The week has been a string of rehearsals for Spring Migration tonight in MemAud. The lights wash out everyone's faces, and I've come to accept theatrical makeup as a necessary evil of being onstage. You just outline a few facial features so that expressions show up. But we've gone one step further in deciding that I am apparently too white to be doing an Afro-Peruvian dance. So I get special treatment to "darken me up". Not just the face but also my neck and if Marco has his way, my arms too.

Of course, the First Rule of Stage Makeup is that makeup, once applied, will come off far more easily on one's costume than on a wet washcloth. And eyeliner? that vile stuff never goes away...

so bizarre

to the tune of: Pinch Me by Barenaked Ladies

This creation by a former co-star of mine is pretty disturbing. Funny, but disturbing. You may never look at a Stanford Dining employee the same way...

Post Office Door Update: Now front-page news in the Daily. Particularly amusing is the theory that "it’s the cause of a general decline in morale on campus"...

Key observation of the day: Stained-glass windows are really hard to photograph. But MemChu in the afternoon: still beautiful. The solution: don't shoot the windows...

what, me work?

to the tune of: Wherever You Will Go by The Calling

Our government in action:

Yes, the door at the Post Office has now been "out of order" for weeks now. It's been gathering its own sort of cult following that one day I deemed worthy of recording for posterity.

At around midnight I got a random IM invitation to karaoke. IGs in the morning? Bah! I was...practicing my Japanese, yeah, that's it...

Enlightenment is for historical eras and Buddha. Not for Jamba Juice smoothies. Remember that. They go in the same category with diet Snapple--so much healthier than those regular, ah, fruit smoothies... but so much less tasty.

Really, how many times a day can one man smoke pot? The guy down the hall filled the floor with that peculiarly nauseating scent twice in the span of 3 hours Friday night, and is at it again right now. I have this ideal vision of Rains as a place where I don't have to share a bathroom with any potheads (of which there's an 80% chance) or have pot blowin' in the wind to my window (of which I have no idea).

Speaking of Rains (and not of pot), I shall be RCCing there after all. Theoretically we should be able to reunite my draw group in a Rains 4-bedroom apartment for a fun-filled summer and chill fifth year. Apparently enough people on the alternates list failed to respond within their convenient three-hour windows (or were frightened away by the recent spate of viruses) that they came crawling back to me. I suppose I should feel honored. Instead I just feel gullible.