thegrumblebunny’s Neighbors

Devil's Broom :: Dust My Broom :: Do It Clean

nobody@vox.com(Sixbucksamonkey) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 10:39:18 -0700

Devil's Broom :: Dust My Broom :: Do It Clean

http://calliopeno8.groups.vox.com/lib...

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lucky for you I don't remember where I left my gun

nobody@vox.com(mariser) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 10:25:06 -0700

Your result for The Personality Defect Test...

Spiteful Loner

You are the Spiteful Loner, the personality type that is most likely to go on a shooting rampage. In high school, you were probably that kid who wore all black and who sat alone in a corner of the lunch room, drawing pictures of dead babies. You are a rational person and tend to hold emotions in very low-esteem; not only that, but you are also rather introverted, meaning you probably bury any emotions you feel deep inside yourself, like all of the bodies in your backyard. Combine these traits with your dislike of others and your brutality, and it seems that you would be quite likely to shoot innocent people in a rampage. Most likely, you also have low self-esteem. Hell, I get low self-esteem just looking at you. This is only yet one more incentive to go on a shooting rampage, because you wouldn't care if you died as a result. Granted, you probably haven't gone on a shooting rampage and probably never will, but all the motivations are there. All you need is for someone to push you over the edge, calling you names and belittling you. Like me. But don't shoot me. I have a 101 mile-long knife, you know. In conclusion, your personality is defective because you are too introverted, brutal, insecure, and rather unemotional. No wonder no one hangs around you, you morbid, cold-hearted freak!

To put it less negatively:

1. You are more RATIONAL than intuitive.

2. You are more INTROVERTED than extroverted.

3. You are more BRUTAL than gentle.

4. You are more HUMBLE than arrogant.

Compatibility:

Your exact opposite is the Televangelist.

Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Capitalist Pig, the Smartass, and the Sociopath.

If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits.

The other personality types:

The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble.

The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant.

The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble.

The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

Be sure to take my Sublime Philosophical Crap Test if you are interested in taking a slightly more intellectual test that has just as many insane ramblings as this one does!

About Saint_Gasoline

I am a self-proclaimed pseudo-intellectual who loves dashes. I enjoy science, philosophy, and fart jokes and water balloons, not necessarily in that order. I spend 95% of my time online, and the other 5% of my time in the bathroom, longing to get back on the computer. If, God forbid, you somehow find me amusing instead of crass and annoying, be sure to check out my blog and my webcomic at SaintGasoline.com.

Take The Personality Defect Test at HelloQuizzy

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Sucker for a music meme

nobody@vox.com(W. B. Mook) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 10:17:29 -0700

Spotted in Bookmole's and Jodi's VOXen.

How many total songs in your iTunes?

23,549

Sort by song title - first and last:

First: A - The Billy Nayer Show
Last: *********** - Sublime
Last that doesn't look like gibberish: 10001110101 - Clutch

Sort by time - shortest and longest:

Shortest: Laugh While You Can... - John Lithgow (Buckaroo Banzai soundbyte) :04

Longest: Eddie Izzard (Not sure what the tour/special/show is, it just says "eddie izzard complete" 1:18:35

Sort by Album - first and last

First: You Are Not My Friend - Frenzal Rhomb - A Man's Not A Camel
First track which has actually been played: An Invitation - The Ghastly Ones - A Haunting We Will Go-Go
Last: Owner of a Lonely Heart - Yes - 90125 (Extended)

Top five played songs:

Angel Won't You Call Me? - The Decemberists
Let The Cool Goddess Rust Away - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!
July, July! - The Decemberists
The Fix Is In - OK Go
Museum of Idiots - TMBG

Find the following words. How many songs show up?

Sex - 111 (or 60 if you just search song titles)
Love - 947 (or 575)
Death - 89 (or 44)
You - 2053 (or 1445)
Home - 268 (or 120)
Boy - 370 (or 173)
Girl - 368 (or 263)

No effort was made to check for duplicates or alternate versions.

First five songs that come up on Party Shuffle:

Gypsy Part of Town - Gogol Bordello
This Kind of Love - Meg Hinges
The Geeks Were Right - The Faint
Intro - RJD2
The Harbor Is Yours - Aesop Rock

I'd probably have to track down album art for all of these if I wanted them to be pretty when I uploaded them, so screw it.

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Caviar Tastes Like The Smell Of Dead Fish...

nobody@vox.com(Jamie) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 07:51:02 -0700

We were supposed to go out of town this weekend but we decided to pay the mortgage instead. I like staying at hotels, it's like having your own Alice, you go out for the day and come back and your beds made and you've got fresh towels. As much as I like the idea of having an Alice, I like living in a whole house more.

DeWitte already took Friday off so we slept in, went out for breakfast and went off for some outdoor fun. Fishing and crabbing, that's as outdoorsie as we tend to get. It's the only sport (It is too a sport..I looked it up, it's even got it's own magazine) I'd actually watch in the Olympics but the Olympics is stuck up and only has sports, besides sumo wrestling, that skinny people seem to like to do. Too bad we didn't check the weather before we left.

The place we where fish is kind of funny. It's a 1/4 mile pier, which means blood, guts and the smell of caviar in places, because caviar tastes like the smell of dead fish, attached to a $$$ restaurant. That promotes signs like this....

Sign

Which means one side of the parking lot is full of valet parked Mercedes' and the other side is beat up pick-up trucks. DeWitte's truck feels at home there.

We set all of our stuff up and the fishing/crabbing commenced. That means people watching. The guys right behind us on the other side of the pier were obviously tourists. You could tell because they looked like someone gently picked them up by the back of their business casual striped Izod shirts and set them on the pier. You don't wear business casual when you're fishing. I had on DeWitte's 1983 Supertramp World Tour concert t-shirt (Which proves he robbed the cradle. In 1983 I was three years from graduating high school and he was off in college partying at concerts.), which I'm gonna wear a lot more often because, from his reaction, you'd think I was wearing lingerie.

One guy was in his 50's and the other guy was either his father or his father-in-law. The old guy seemed to have some disdain for the younger guy so I'm gonna guess father-in-law. The old guy didn't move from his chair most of the time we were there, he just sat there and grunted. The younger guy never stopped moving. He had two fishing poles that he checked on more than a nervous mother checks on her newborn baby. Only a mother would never snatch her new born up so fast that she'd break it in two. Every time that guy checked one of his lines, he pulled so hard his pole came apart, than he'd get mad and swear.

Down the pier a little bit was a family that I can only guess were from Brooklyn. It was the loudness and accent that gave them away.

Oh! My! Gawd! Louie, get the camewra! I cawt a cwrab! Get the camerwa, Louie, a cwrab!

Followed by Louie yelling that she should hwold yer howses, he's getting the camewra. Then..

Oh! My! Gawd! Louie, get the camewra, I got a fish! Hurry Louie, get the camewra!

I'm not sure why he had to hurry up, it's not like the fish wasn't going anywhere.

Next to us was a foreign family. They spoke really good English but I couldn't quite place the language they spoke when talking among themselves, I think maybe Canadian. They were fairly large people and the dad had on a pair of pink shorts that left him with a constant wedgie. Either he wasn't wearing underpants or he was wearing a thong, neither of which I like to give much thought to.

After a couple of hours, the sky started to turn black on the other side of the bay.

Storm

I thought maybe we should start packing up but DeWitte was determined to stay. He was really busy and didn't want to leave.

Busy

The people with common sense started leaving, one by one, until it was just us and the old guy and his son-in-law. All of the sudden, some woman that was so quaffed, she looked like she just came out of the fancy restaurant next door, came running down the pier, yelling to "daddy" that a big storm was on it's way. Hurry up and get their stuff. It was pretty obvious that a big storm was on it's way but it certainly wasn't the hurricane she seemed to think it was. They were probably from Florida..they take storms a lot more seriously than we do.

The old guy got up at a snails pace, as the younger guy continued to obsessive compulsively check his lines. The old guy pulled up his crab trap and seemed surprised to find an actual crab, while the woman tried to hurry them along. Grandpa finally seemed excited about something. Instead of just pushing the crab back into the water (what are you gonna do with only one crab?), he lunged for it. When he did, he tripped on one of the boards on the pier a fell flat on his face. It was like he didn't have the natural reaction to put his hands out in front of him, he fell like a freshly cut pine tree. Whoosh. The lady started screaming Daddy, while the SIL just kept checking his lines asking "What are you guys doing down there?", never once looking up. The old guy was OK and the lady finally got the son-in-law to stop touching his fishing poles while we were packing up our stuff.

We got off the pier just as the rain came down so hard it made you wish you had an ark. The only thing we caught all day was this...

DeWitte-caught-a-pigeon

But I still had a really good time. Tourists make excellent entertainment.

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So much to say....

nobody@vox.com(Jay) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 07:38:10 -0700

Saxophonist LeRoi Moore of Dave Matthews Band has died of complications from an ATV accident. He was 46.

Shame.

I liked his contribution to the band very much. I was a big fan of DMB back in college and a while after, and still enjoy many of their songs. Crash is one of my most favorite albums in my collection, especially considering I stopped collecting CDs in the late 90's after mp3s took off and I finally eluded the BMG collection goons once and for all. (Nobody here knows me, got it?)

I mean, I didn't sit barefoot in wet grass smoking doobs and mouth-kissing my dog at concerts or anything, I just liked Dave's music.

Anyway, he was a talented guy. They all are. Shame.

So Much to Say

Dave Matthews Band

(I always hated the schmaltzy Photoshop work on this album cover, but hey....it was the 90s and we were easily impressed. Simon sez solarize!)

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Lightbulbs

nobody@vox.com(dewitte) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 07:36:21 -0700

SLACKER

I don't think I'll ever cease to be amazed at the number of lightbulbs we go through at our house. If you ever have a friend who is moving into a new house and you are thinking about a moving-in type of gift - think lightbulbs. Bulk packs of 60 and 100 watt are always good. Of course, now everything is going green with those little twirly ones that look cute and offer the possibility of extinction if one of them breaks and spills mercury all over your house. "Hey, did something just go in my ear?" Some of them are a bit pricey.

When we redid the kitchen, we put in a tract lighting system. It is pretty cool, well, fiery hot actually - it has seven 50 watt halogen bulbs that you can aim at various work centers in the kitchen. So the stove, sink, fridge and coffee pot all get special attention - like they are in the big show. That's fine until one of them burns out. I'd say we've been through roughly 15 bulbs since last August. 15 at 3 per pack and $14 per pack works out to $70. Another two packs and we will surpass the price of the tract system. I assume that the company that manufactures the fixture ALSO owns stock in the company that makes the bulbs. (If you own a Wii, this is exactly the same synergistic relationship that Nintento has with Eveready.)

I'm still surprised, as I probably should not be at this point, with the number of bulbs we go through and the timing of them burning out. If the light pointing at the sink burns out, I replace it and within a day, the light pointing at the coffee pot goes out. If the light in the living room ceiling fan burns out, I replace it and then the one next to it goes out. Now it doesn't happen all the time - I'm not walking from room to room with my ladder and waiting. It only seems like that. I've switched to the new compact florescent bulbs where possible and they promise 11 years between changes. Ahh - 11 years. I can be blogging or something during all that free time that I'll have - but wait! I put two into the fixture in the living room and within a week, one of them was out. Dang - maybe it was a dud. At closer look, however, I found out it was the fixture itself that had failed. The bulbs will now out live the fixtures.

I had a few strings of those Christmas tree white lights on the bushes in the front yard. Originally, it was a Christmas decoration but then I left them on all year and they looked pretty nice, that is until they started going out. I could have gone through each and every bulb to see which one it was but instead I opted to just throw another complete strand overtop of those. Long story short, when the last one went out I pulled out about 300 feet of old wires from the bushes and I have yet to replace them.

My newest enemy is the photocell switch that is supposed to turn the outside lights on at dusk and off four hours later. I came home for lunch and all the outside lights were on. I can usually tell this because I can hear the electrical meter spinning out of control. I checked the switch and it looks fine - I mean, it looks like a switch, it just doesn't work anymore. I'd turn off the power going to the outside outlet but unfortunately due a twist of fate I used the same outside outlet for the pond pump so I'm going to have to get a new switch.

I think my next investment is a pair of coveralls that says "Maintenance" on the back.

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Just. Act. Casual.

nobody@vox.com(Kirk) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 07:33:46 -0700

I dig this. Sort of reminds me of what our heroes did in Sean of the Dead in order to reach the Winchester Pub.

Nobody Over Here But Us Sharks!

That one fish up in front using the spot on his tail to form the eye is pretty cool, but the subtler, more impressive detail is that the shark-shaped school has its own group of pilot fish tagging along.

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Tweets for Today

nobody@vox.com(chris) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 03:18:12 -0700

13:27 @cupcakecommando Take a shower. That always brings them to the door. ;) #
17:30 Sitting at the table when music starts playing. A wrong number on one of B's cell phones. Cost 35 cents. #
20:38 @geniealisa Try contacting Adobe and telling them you switched. They may send Mac version for cost of discs/shipping. #

Automatically shipped by LoudTwitter

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Aubrey Goes Camping

nobody@vox.com(Aubrey) — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 00:48:52 -0700

My annual family picnic is generally a two day affair. Day one: arrive in whatever city was chosen: Ventura, Lompoc, Solvang, etc. Check into hotel room. That afternoon at the picnic, eat enough to starve a continent. Claim that your old war wound prevents you from taking part in the reindeer games that follow. That night, meet up again and eat some more. Day two: Eat breakfast. Say good-bye. Go home.

This year was different. There was no chosen city. Instead a forest was chosen: The Sequoia National Forest. The hotel was a lodge. Hikes, instead of rest, were arranged. A campsite was reserved. There would be two days of cookouts and three nights of camping. Aubrey was going camping.

Father, Boyfriend and I went. So, Thursday AM we set off, after I had made sure that Boyfrirend had brought liquid bug spray, aerosol bug spray and anti-bug wipes. After initially getting lost in the heartland of central California, we began our 5,000 foot ascent into the Alpine range of the Sierras.

When the trees began to straighten, with limbs stretching high enough to challenge the horizon, when thickets and glades began to appear, when mellow redwoods begain to outnumber the delicate pines and firs - silvery in the clear sunlight - when the trees cast shadows across the afternoon road in a natural noir, I began to forget my misgivings. The air was thin, cool and smelt of wood and greenery. It was impossibly lovely.

Did Anyone Hear It

Clasping Hands

Torn And Reborn

Now, father was staying at the lodge. But an extra room was reserved for Boyfriend and myself, just in case we wanted to pamper ourselves. With screen windows. With a mattress. Witih a flushing toilet. That sort of thing.

However, Boyfriend and I went straight to the campground to set up our tent. Our chosen site was somewhat removed from everyone else. It was right next to, as one of my cousins said, 'bear highway'. There are stories of how one tore a sedan apart like a croissant to get at a Big Mac.

Now, alot of my cousins are career campers. Let me tell you something. Staying in an RV is not roughing it. Nor is staying in one of your posh tents that you blow up with a tire pump. This, friends, is Roughing It:

Raise High The Roofbeam Carpenters

Still, that night we slept at the lodge. It had, after all, been a long trip. We didn't feel that it was too bourgeois of us.

Friday AM I pulled my back out - as if things weren't interesting enough.

We were taken to see the world's largest known single organism by volume: the 'General Sherman' tree. Over 2,000 years old, this noble tree was located in a grove of equally noble brothers, but none so voluminous. Many were scored with burns at their base where lightening had pierced them. The resulting injury created a cavern that one could stand in:

The Root Isn't Always Evil

None could be photographed in their entirety in one shot:

A word about the weather: HOT. Two words about bugs: numerous. Flying. Boyfriend and I annointed ourselves with bug spray religiously. All day long you felt random stings, itches; heard constant buzzings...I thought I would start twitching like a horse in the mid-day sun.

That evening we walked to the campground and did the usual things. We sat around the campfire. I looked up into the night and saw a dark blue, star-sequined sky watching us from its circle formed by the far-reaching pines. Eventually we departed for our tent.

Now, I'm not saying that it was comfortable. Far from it. And because of my back, getting into my sleeping bag took me a good 30 seconds. But it was snug. And the closeness made one feel so curiously safe.

Around 6AM, I woke to the sound of galloping hooves. I remember thinking what an odd time it was to go horseback riding. When we finally emerged we found the camp talking about the mule deer which had come visiting the previous evening. I again thought of those hooves and imagined the flick of the deer's black-tipped tail before it vanished into the whispering green.

Saturday we went hiking up the High Sierra Trail. There were some very fine outlooks to see before we decided that the Trail had gone High enough and turned back.

A Misty Morning

We saw Crescent Meadow, deep and marvelous, shining like a golden pool.

A Golden Curve

After this, we drove a corkscrew trail to the Crystal Cave, a marble cave set deep within the forest. Its breath was cold and in its heart were natural galleries, passages and domes. Through it all you could hear the streams which cut the patterns into the wall and drenched them with color. Marble formations - blue, green and white - formed the bed of these streams, like the bath of a Roman emperor. Stalacmites grew up from the ground, while stalactites dripped from the cavernous ceilings. It was too dark for photographs, so I looked to the Internet for an image:

Crystal Cave

The 1/2 mile vertical walk back to the parking lot was perfectly diabolical, leavened only by some pretty sights:

A Sight To Soothe

That evening there was another barbeque, and another congenial campfire, under a full moon.

The Moon Is A Spy

While last night the children - of which there were myriad - seemed to outnumber the adults, this time it was the elders who gathered around the bonfire. A bottle of Jim Beam was passed around - I ignored it, hoping that a martini would somehow materialize - but Boyfriend stopped its circulation more than once.

We camped out once more. For awhile I was kept awake by the drunken revelry still going on, by my aching back, by the clicks of insects with poor sonar bumping into our tent, by the light of the moon.

We started for home late next morning. Now, there was a lot wrong with this weekend, but there was a lot that was right and good about it too. And thinking of it as a memory makes me feel oddly sad.

Would I Do This Again...

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I'm almost tempted to open this one...

nobody@vox.com(TreeSweater) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 23:21:41 -0700

AlienAbduction

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