…that are unrelated in content but visually similar.
Maybe it’s the color palette.
This is some of my best advice. Never do these things:
What, you think you don’t have control over these things?
Never do them if you value your health and your life.
Call it Mad Libs ™. Call it a story generator. Whatever you call it, I got a laff.
Sometimes you just got no stories in you, and that’s okay, even though you’ve committed to posting every day on a blog and don’t want to let yourself down after so many posts in a row. That’s when you call upon the internet to help you cheat. (Thanks, internet!)
For the record, I chose a “financial” plot that ended “violently.” I like fill-in-the-blank stories like these because they reveal the word salad that fiction writing so often is.
Without further ado, friends, I give you….
Frankie Gideon looked at the ephemeral bass guitar in her hands and felt shy.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her old surroundings. She had always loved creaky Miss Trumpet’s Earworm Academy with its colossal, clear creaky old practice room. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel shy.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Violet Beauchamp. Violet was a disciplined grifter with dark eyes and muscular toes.
Frankie gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a stoic, honest, coffee drinker with tall eyes and lanky toes. Her friends saw her as a wild, wooden wrecking ball. Once, she had even helped a huge stock market cross the road.
But not even a stoic person who had once helped a huge stock market cross the road, was prepared for what Violet had in store today.
The sleet rained like rocking out kittens, making Frankie bored.
As Frankie stepped outside and Violet came closer, she could see the depressed glint in her eye.
“Look Frankie,” growled Violet, with a flighty glare that reminded Frankie of disciplined hyenas. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want respect. You owe me 6934 dollars.”
Frankie looked back, even more bored and still fingering the ephemeral bass guitar. “Violet, go away, you little punk,” she replied.
They looked at each other with downtrodden feelings, like two prickly, perfect pandas thrashing at a very low-key study hall, which had punk rock music playing in the background and two imaginative uncles swinging to the beat.
Suddenly, Violet lunged forward and tried to punch Frankie in the face. Quickly, Frankie grabbed the ephemeral bass guitar and brought it down on Violet’s skull.
Violet’s dark eyes trembled and her muscular toes wobbled. She looked elated, her wallet raw like a colossal, concerned checkbook.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Violet Beauchamp was dead.
Frankie Gideon went back inside and made herself a nice cup of coffee.
THE END
As you know, I work in higher ed.
As you may NOT know, I like dressing up on Halloween. I especially like wearing weird costumes that are mostly inside jokes with myself.
One Halloween, I wore a blonde wig and dressed up like old-school Taylor Swift, with a country dress and shoes that didn’t quite go. I hacked my work badge so that my name was No, it’s Becky.
Another Halloween, when I was working with a bunch science PhDs, I decided to dress as one of them. I scavenged a lab coat and a pipette and lab goggles. From afar, people assumed I was a student.
This Halloween, we’re going deep into “Nobody will get this” territory. So deep, in fact, that my costume is of something that doesn’t actually exist.
It doesn’t exist, but perhaps it should.
Behold, the FERPA Compliance Officer.
I also have a matching cop hat, aviator sunglasses, and badge. I was going to wear a fake mustache but honestly at this point I think it would be overkill.
For those of you who don’t work in academia, FERPA is the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act of 1974. It “protects” the privacy of student records. If you’ve ever tried to call a university on behalf of a family member, it’s why you can’t do anything for them without a signed release.
Unlike HIPAA, which has a robust policing mechanism and serious consequences if it’s breached, FERPA is basically just a piece of paper. I’ve never heard of anyone getting in trouble for failing to follow FERPA law. FERPA is one of those things that’s used to keep outsiders out (like a mom calling to check on her kid’s grade when she’s paying the tuition bill) but to forge relationships with people who can exploit data in the name of “university business.” Because if it’s need-to-know, it’s not a breach.
If FERPA had an Office of Compliance, it would focus on low-level customer service mistakes and faculty screw ups. Like all Federal agencies, it would turn a blind eye to the systemic privacy violations that go along with things like data mining.
Because a FERPA Compliance Officer is such an absurd idea, I figured this mythical branch of law enforcement would make a great Halloween costume. Basically if a Halloween costume idea doesn’t make me laugh until I can’t breathe, I’m not interested.
I’ve been hanging on to this idea for years, and its about to make its debut.
I can’t wait.
Sometimes I crave Spaghetti-Os. This is weird for a few reasons.
Yet still, the cravings are there. They don’t belong, but still pop out and say hi.
That’s kind of how I feel about this image:
Memes in real life.
Semi-obscure right wing memes in real life.
Semi-obscure right wing memes in real life themed for a holiday.
So wrong and yet so right.
I love the implicit sub-plot of this setup—it could lead toward its own horror movie. Or rather, long-form YouTube video.
» I’ve been ruminating on the NPC meme. If you pay attention in this world, you’ve seen it before. It’s nothing new. If you’ve ever tried to do online dating, you’ve seen it. If you’ve ever worked customer service and known the exact conversation you’d have with someone before they even open your mouth, you’ve seen it. I recently moved, yet I see near carbon-copies of people that I knew in my last living environment.
Today I’m wondering if one of the hallmarks of an NPC is the inability to conceive of a way of thinking outside of oneself. Not just the ability to entertain the idea as a “thought experiment,” which most people can and will, but actively cultivating and using other people’s way of doing things to everyone’s better advantage. I feel like many of the people I talk to come from a “but why would you do it that way?” perspective, like any other way of tacking a problem is completely alien and therefore wrong.
I think this is closely related to solipsism.
» Speaking of solipsism, this type of thinking may be why the fashion industry is so insufferable.
Coco Chanel, a winter, once said that “Women think of all colors except the absence of color. I have said that black has it all. White too. Their beauty is absolute. It is the perfect harmony” – and thousands of editorials ever after never dared to question her. Similarly, a famous Australian fashion editor, also probably a winter, insists that her family all wear white on Christmas Day (which may indeed be a great foil for her, but mightn’t do much for a Soft Summer cousin or Autumn in-law.) A lot of fashion gurus seem to be winters, come to think of it, and perhaps this projection and marketing of personal bests as universal truths is a key point to understanding the industry as a whole.
In other words, people want rules and “universal truths” instead of thinking for themselves and standing on their own two feet. That goes double for fashion people.
Anyway, in my drugged-up, post (minor) surgery state I’ve decided that the absolute best way to spend my time is to do a deep dive into Personal Color Analysis and revisit, once again, the question of “If I’m a Soft Summer why do I look so good in olive green?” Seriously. The 12-step, more nuanced version of the “seasons” color palette makes a lot of sense, but I still can’t really figure out where I fit. I have a lot of characteristics of a “soft,” but have more contrast than the typical Soft Summer palette. I don’t do pastels, but feel at home in jewel tones. Yesterday I thought I could perhaps be a Dark or Deep Autumn, but I’ve never considered myself particularly warm-toned.
My skin has yellow undertones with pink overtones. My eyes are hazel and grey. I prefer wearing warmed-up cool tones (olive green, plum) and cooled-down warm tones (burgundy, brown). Basically I am very confused.
It doesn’t really matter if I fit in a category of someone else’s color system, as long as I find colors to wear that I like, that harmonize with me, and that project an image that helps me to succeed in this world. But I, like the people I grumbled about three paragraphs above, simply seek a set of rules and universal truths that will make me feel better about myself and my place in the universe.
I just talked myself into and out of a hole in the span of a few paragraphs. That is kind of weird.
» Speaking of weird, or maybe just speaking of drugs, WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE THIS STUFF? I do not understand the appeal of being high, aside from the obvious appeal of not being in pain. Especially the type of high that comes from drugs, which is this shallow chemically kind of mind/body change. Maybe it’s because of my extensive experience which I wrote about yesterday, but there is a huge difference between a shallow drug-induced change in your body, and a real, lasting change that you initiated yourself. Energy from caffeine does not equal energy from a full night of sleep. It’s the energy equivalent of fake news.
There are so many other ways to change your state of mind that require little to no effort or money and which have very few side effects or downsides if you get addicted. Like sprinting. Or cream sauce.
Try one of those things before you try drugs, kids.
Back in the early days of SEO, I remember bloggers posting their top search results to amplify them and get even more hits. I’m going to steal their tricks, because the search results were often pretty hilarious.
I’ve been collecting these for a couple months, and I’m tickled by most of them.
You wanted his full body but I gave you Chanyeol in like 4 layers of MLB gear. I’m sure that’s not what you were looking for.
diagram venn nct
I didn’t make this nifty venn diagram of NCT’s members (circa 2018 era before Jungwoo joined 127), but I sure did obsessively translate it. First I applied my expert knowledge of NCT subgroups, then I did a crash course on Korean phonics to sleuth out the remaining members.
That is a really good question, to which I don’t actually know the answer. Aquaphor could smother bacteria, I suppose. Otherwise, it’s really good at helping skin to heal and stay hydrated, which allows your immune system to better fight bacteria.
I certainly don’t think it would be a BAD thing in the fight against bacteria. I personally love it.
After my initial idea fell through–it’ll still get posted, just some technical details have to get ironed out first–I have absolutely no idea what to write about tonight.
I’ve been trying to be better about writing, to write more of what I want this blog to be and less of whatever seems convenient at the time.
And yet I find myself writing a convenient-at-the-time meta post. [eyeroll]
Mostly it’s because I’m completely out of steam. This week I’ve been making an effort to get more sleep, but I’ve only gotten a touch more, not enough to make up for whatever sleep debt I have.
So I find myself here, on a Thursday night, after eating a huge dinner, weary and nearly falling asleep.
That means I should get off my butt and go to bed.
I shall return tomorrow with what I hope is the most epic “image of the week” yet.
Sleep well, my batlings.
Sometimes the best kept secret is the one you share at the end.
Surprise parties are awesome, especially when tailored to the recipient.
That is all.
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