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AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH
THIS AIRPORT
List of things I neglected/was unable to do before leaving Wisconsin:

1) rearrange my storage unit
2) register for fall classes
3) make green curry with my new wok
4) renew my Wisconsin driver's license
5) find a job
6) finish certain parts of my incomplete work from fall semester

List of things that I was somehow able to accomplish despite the things listed above:

1) make a mess of my storage unit while digging for kitchen supplies
2) look into taking fun english and art history classes during the summer session
3) make chinese dumplings
4) drive hundreds of miles without a valid driver's license
5) spend too much money
6) get a haircut
7) get my eyebrows waxed (JJ is all kinds of persuasive)

Life is all about priorities.
Seriously, I only have...like...three user pictures. In fact, the ones that I do have don't do a very good job of representing myself and my goals. I guess that's as good a reason as any to upload forty-five more pictures.

Since my last update occurred when I was in China, which seems like a different lifetime when I compare it to my current daily activities, I'm going to fall back on my tried-and-true method of lazily compiling a list.

一) But this list will have numbers; Chinese numbers.
二) The Fame tour ended about two weeks ago, casting me directly into the throes of unemployment. Again.
三) I'm back in Wisconsin now, sleeping on the fold-out couch-bed in my parents' basement family room, and using my considerable charms and blackmailing capacity to secure rides to my friend Heather's coffee shop and to Eau Claire.
四) I've finished one of my four incomplete classes that I put off in December: with Theatre History out of the way I can turn my attention to the World Architecture class, that paperwork-seizure-inducing technical class, and American Indian Expressive Culture class.
五) When I'm done with these exams, I need to find a goddamn job.
六) In the fall I shall either finish my final semester of classes (wooo class of 2010 woo) or take another job at Phoenix, which might include a promotion. I'm on the fence, since I don't think I can do both :(

Apparently those written number are the same in Japanese...so...have fun with that.

AAAHHHH

At the risk of being confused with the intense plastic bag guy in American Beauty, I must say that I'm REALLY happy that Ivoryboy has released a new game:

http://www.ivoryboy.com/4-differences.html

And of course, there are the other ones:

http://www.ivoryboy.com/5-differences.html
http://www.ivoryboy.com/6-differences.html

Sometimes 6 Differences threatens to move me to tears.

philosotrashed?

So, I just had a casual drinking-get-together with Addison, Kim, Rob, Char, Michael, and Darcy. Usually when I get drink I react in the predictable way: I get more talkative, less inhibited, blah, blah, etc, blah.

However, every now and then when I drink I attain a different state of being: philosophical drunk. Suddenly everything I say is both witty, and deeply profound and everyone around me seems genuinely interested in the things that I have to say, and I'm overwhelmed with an urge to record my comments in some sort of journal.

Granted, my booze-borne intellectualism might be a figment of my imagination...but isn't human society nothing more than an imaginary construct?

Hmmm? Hmmm?

I'm totally going to read this post tomorrow and hate myself as a result.

*tap* *tap* *tap* is this thing on?

Sometimes I think that I could never function well in the audio department of live entertainment simply because I've become terrible at ad-libbing in recent years.

When I'm asked to test a microphone I'll have about three words to say and then...I freeze. Phrases like "TESTING...ONE...TWO...THREE" make me feel self-conscious because EVERYBODY uses those words. Reciting the pledge of allegiance for a mic check is okay, but then I start to worry that people will think I'm overpatriotic. Then again, if I stop the recitation in midpledge, then people will assume that I've been poorly educated and can't remember the words. Talking about my day is out, as this can lead to spectators discovering that I'm completely and irreversibly psychotic.

The audio team on my current tour has an elegant answer: Curious George books. The A2 Char will grab a book and walk around on the stage with a wireless mic, reading through the story as she tests speakers. I guess I'm not surprised by this solution: the A1 Rob is one of the chillest motherfuckers I've EVER worked with. He wouldn't want to see anyone up on the stage twisting in the wind.

So, if I ever get a job in the audio field (which I hope to try someday) I wonder what I'll read? Being the pretentious douchebag that I am, I'm inclined towards something like Catch-22, you know, so people will think that I'm smart. Or maybe Star Trek/Avatar-crossover-slash-fanfiction. You know, so people won't ever approach me again.
Computer still broken (frustrated-rageface).

Former coworker has a job on a huge broadway tour (jealousy-face).

Christmas and New Years in Shanghai (Harvey-Dent-normal/grossface).

South Korea might be cancelled (frustratedface-dejectedface).

Getting a cold (sick-tiredface).

Load out tonight (annoyed-don't-wanna-goface).

My roommate Rizzo seems to have the same cold as me. He has an ace up his sleeve, though: he brought a book and several bottles of a miracle cure that he promises will "kill everything inside of him" (I just left that comment alone) because it contains things like:

- Sodium Hydroxide (I'm preeeeetty sure that's lye)
- Sodium Chlorite (don't hospitals use NAClO2 to disinfect their equipment?) (also, I can't believe that I still knew the chemical formula for it after all these years)
- other bullshit

So, I'm certainly not going to drink it but I DO have to listen to the claims for the next week or so. Maybe if I could just get ahold of that book then we could both be happy: he could poison his cold away and I could commit my mind to thinking about more important things, like fluffy kittens.
1) My computer is dead again: I was innocently wasting my time online yesterday when I was startled by a loud snap from somewhere inside the case, and then saw wisps of smoke curling up through the space between the keyboard and the bezel. After performing an autopsy, I'm pretty sure that the voltage regulator chip exploded. Maybe that's what was causing all of recent problems in the first place.

I'd love to try to desolder the bad chip and replace it with a new one, but my experiences with precision surface-mount electronics are quite limited. I'm hoping that I can find a Chinese guy manning a booth on the street who will replace the chip for 50 RMB.

2) Spending Christmas away from home for the first time in my life: I'm jealous again because it's currently snowing in Wisconsin, and I'm depressed because I'm lonely and internet-less. Calling my parents made me feel a little better. I've definitively determined that this whole "being an adult" thing is total bullshit. I want date balls and Legos, goddammit.

3) The opening night of Fame went off with only minor hiccups last night. After the show was done, the producers threw party for the whole company at a bar located in the basement of Toby's Shanghai apartment. The bar is made up of about 88 different rooms that were constructed as a bomb shelter during the war with the Japanese. I drank, talked to people, had fun, and then got vomit on my shoes when the head of the wardrobe department couldn't keep it down during the bus ride home. The upside: now I can probably use the washing machine whenever I want.

THE MCRIB

Apparently the McDonald's restaurants here in China are currently carrying the McRib sandwich. Have I told you about my self-destructive addiction to that particular menu item? In a nutshell: I would hurt my own mother to get a McRib sandwich. I would sell my body on the street for another fix of that tangy barbecue and pork. In fact, just writing about it is giving me the shakes.

Anyway, the technical director Scott has taken lunch orders for McDonald's three times in the past week and each and every time I've received a sandwich that was not the McRib. Once it was a soggy chicken sandwich, and another time it was some sort of pork-and-vegetable patty that I've dubbed the McChurl.

Anyway, do you know what happens to junkies when they hit a certain phase of their withdrawal? They get violent.

I'm hungry.