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Nov. 13th, 2004 07:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oakenguyThis is me in the hallway of Boston University's student union, posting at one of the internet kiosks they recently installed (the fools, the fools).
This is my life without a home computer. It feels strangely retro. It's _so_ 1996, y'know?
Although, even in '96 I was able to sit down while I was online.
Let's see, other things to report...um...The Incredibles is just as good a second time.
If I can kill forty more minutes here, I'll be able to see something called "Combat Theatre", being put on for free in the common area by a group of undergrads who, even as I type, are rehearsing with buckets over their heads. No weapons are visible. No combat is being practiced.
Dubious? Yes, yes I am.
Speaking of dubious, I'm having doubts about whether my phone is working. I've gotten five "new calls" with no number listed or message left. Spammers? Opinion pollsters? Bob Hope reaching out from the afterlife to warn me not to see Christmas with the Kranks? (Don't worry, Bob. I'm at the point of yelling at the screen whenever I see that awful preview. Was Jamie Lee Curtis's hairdresser mad at her? Oh, and check this out: the only 'user review' of the film at imdb.com tries to praise it by saying "This film had all the laughs of The Santa Claus II, plus Dan Aykroyd." Ouch. OUCH.)
Oh, this is something I've never seen before: twenty feet to my right is an ice cream vending machine. You put your money in, and a VACUUM HOSE lowers itself, sucks up the ice cream of your choice, and delivers it to the proper slot. A vacuum hose! I can already see the king-size version I want to build at Six Flags.
Am I right in thinking that this is new and neat, or am I sounding Amish? "I telleth thee, Isaiah, the English twist a button on their shiny box, and music soundeth from no visible source!" I can't tell sometimes.
My first attempt at writing a one act play has resulted in a half-decent two page comedy sketch involving James Bond, the world's worst torturer, and two nun-clowns. I should try writing a comedy sketch; given the way my brain works, I'll probably wind up with a three-hour opera.
This is my life without a home computer. It feels strangely retro. It's _so_ 1996, y'know?
Although, even in '96 I was able to sit down while I was online.
Let's see, other things to report...um...The Incredibles is just as good a second time.
If I can kill forty more minutes here, I'll be able to see something called "Combat Theatre", being put on for free in the common area by a group of undergrads who, even as I type, are rehearsing with buckets over their heads. No weapons are visible. No combat is being practiced.
Dubious? Yes, yes I am.
Speaking of dubious, I'm having doubts about whether my phone is working. I've gotten five "new calls" with no number listed or message left. Spammers? Opinion pollsters? Bob Hope reaching out from the afterlife to warn me not to see Christmas with the Kranks? (Don't worry, Bob. I'm at the point of yelling at the screen whenever I see that awful preview. Was Jamie Lee Curtis's hairdresser mad at her? Oh, and check this out: the only 'user review' of the film at imdb.com tries to praise it by saying "This film had all the laughs of The Santa Claus II, plus Dan Aykroyd." Ouch. OUCH.)
Oh, this is something I've never seen before: twenty feet to my right is an ice cream vending machine. You put your money in, and a VACUUM HOSE lowers itself, sucks up the ice cream of your choice, and delivers it to the proper slot. A vacuum hose! I can already see the king-size version I want to build at Six Flags.
Am I right in thinking that this is new and neat, or am I sounding Amish? "I telleth thee, Isaiah, the English twist a button on their shiny box, and music soundeth from no visible source!" I can't tell sometimes.
My first attempt at writing a one act play has resulted in a half-decent two page comedy sketch involving James Bond, the world's worst torturer, and two nun-clowns. I should try writing a comedy sketch; given the way my brain works, I'll probably wind up with a three-hour opera.
