A visitor to my house yesterday afternoon would have seen a very muddy Colin trudging into his driveway after a 2-mile hike with a 23-pound pack, taken for exercise and to break in his boots for the upcoming ROTC summer course. But yesterday was dry and sunny here in Eastern Nebraska, so why the mud?
Well, to discover the reason, he must retrace Colin's steps about a half mile to the west, where he would find a small bridge (maybe 10-15 yards long) across a stream. An examination of the dirt beneath it would yield the conclusion that boots had climbed down from the road on the west side, stopped beneath the bridge a few yards from the bank, then reappeared on the eastern bank.
With the knowledge that, on his return leg of his two-mile runs and hikes on that route, Colin has been in the habit of hanging from one of the steel girders beneath the bridge and swinging across, the investigator could accurately surmise that Colin had done the same in this case, but would perhaps be confused by the reflection that Colin does not return from those runs so muddy.
So this is what happened...As usual, I jumped up and swung from the girder, making my way across. It had rained heavily two nights before, so the stream was somewhat higher (and a little wider) than usual, and the opposite side was a nasty bank of mud for a yard and a half beyond the edge of the stream.
If I had not had the pack on my back (and I usually don't) I would not have swung about so violently and had to expend as much energy in getting across.
If I was not still sore from upper-body exercises the previous day, I would have had a better grip on the girder.
If, when I felt my grip slipping, I had released with the forward swing instead of trying to hang on for one more reach, I would have fallen further forward.
As it was, all of those are purely hypothetical. My hands just beyond the eastern edge of the stream, I dropped from the backward swing; though I landed on my feet and hands, the mud was deep, and I sunk in to my knees and elbows and did a face-plant (my glasses stuck in the mud-bank aforementioned).
Since I rinsed off a bit at the stream, I don't know how bad I looked, but I can say that when I got back to the house and called inside for a towel, I still was nasty enough that my youngest brother could only ask "Colin! What happened?!"
I'd say the boots are pretty well broken in now. :-)
Showing posts with label Funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funny. Show all posts
01 June 2008
12 May 2008
Counting Down
2 exams and 1 paper down, 1 exam (Geometry) and 1 paper (Freedom's) to go...Hua!!!
***
I'll be done with the semester by Wednesday, and am planning to go up to Carlos O'Kelly's today to see about working again for them over the summer, starting next week.
***
So...plans for the summer: work, go to LTC, spend as much time as possible with Nebraska friends (guys, I want to go hiking!!!!), leave around August 12th or so to drive out to Virginia.
***
I recently remembered a debate on the Civil Rights Act from US History...the Civil Rights movement was indubitably good, but the Act itself was debatably so, definitely on constitutional and arguably on political grounds. That is probably going to turn into a post, and one on which I'd like discussion.
***
On that note, please read this speech by John McCain on his philosophy of the judiciary. It is very encouraging to hear this, and I completely agree with it.
***
Summer reading list:
--Les Miserables (I finished Martin Chuzzlewit last week)
--Getting the Gospel Right (and discussing that with the friend who is graciously allowing me to borrow it)
--Pick Death of Death in the Death of Christ back up, and finish it.
--Finish The Perfectibility of Man
--Finish Calvin's Institutes...hopefully.
--Finish the Hornblower Series? Possibly?
--Finish Lone Survivor, on a Navy SEAL fighting in Afghanistan.
***
Mother's Day was great--the men made a church breakfast for the ladies, which was quite fun.
For the service, we had an "open letter to my Mom" day. I had not written out a letter beyond the card I got her (and gave her the day before), but I wrote down some points and practiced my extemporaneous speaking (Dr. Tallmon would be proud).
***
Mother's Day morning: My mom was playing Command and Conquer: Renegade, and picked up a flamethrower, when I insisted she wanted a more long-range weapon. So then I took the open elevator to the next floor (past the sniper who was stuck facing a wall), but it didn't go all the way up. I had to jump up and pull myself out of the shaft--but while I was trying to do so, my brother climbed on my back and clambered over me. All the while the bad guys on the next floor were looking at me with rather bemused expressions.
But I climbed up and started flaming the baddies with my own flamethrower, except they didn't fall. I realized that my hands were empty and I was making the "whoosh" sound with my mouth. The people didn't even look like bad guys anymore, but were still looking at me funny.
Then I woke up.
The weird thing is that I don't even play Renegade (let alone my Mom): I prefer the strategy style C&C games.
Anywho....
***
Something else kind of weird:
I think I went from being a covenant credobaptist with paedobaptist sympathies to a covenant paedobaptist with credobaptist sympathies Sunday afternoon...I have yet to awaken from that one. I'm still searching the Scriptures on that, but I think it finally sort of clicked.
By "covenant" baptist, generally, I mean the idea that baptism is a sign and symbol (signifying the spiritual reality) of God's covenant with His elect, the covenant of grace, which we receive by imparted faith. I still reject regenerative baptism of all sorts (Lutheran and Romanist) and think that the idea that baptism is a statement of the "commitment we've made to Christ" is just really shallow theology...
The difference between covenant credobaptists (Reformed Baptists) and paedobaptists (Presbyterian/Reformed) is fundamentally on if the children of believers are in some sense comprehended under the covenant of grace and are part of the visible church. The credobaptists say they are not in any sense under the covenant if they are not elect. The paedobaptists would not say that the children are necessarily elect, but are still a part of the covenant, much like all the Israelites were under the covenant without all being elect. In fact, they often draw a comparison between circumcision in the OT and baptism in the New (that's the part I'm still checking on).
***
I was asked last Monday if I believed in Limited Atonement or Unlimited Atonement. And I didn't realize until then how frustrating a question that is...phrased in those terms, there is no short answer. I would agree with Spurgeon that it is the atonement unlimited in extent that actually limits the effect of the atonement, so calling "Particular/Definite Redemption" "Limited Atonement" rather weights the question.
Short answer (free of the terms governed by polemical history) is this: I believe Christ died to redeem His spiritual Israel (the church), and He accomplished His purpose at the cross. I take this view from Scripture as a whole: from the Old Testament prophecies and the New Testament teaching on the intent and accomplishment of the atonement. Granted, there are several NT passages speaking of "all" and the "world," but the Greek words are not consistently used in a universal sense. On the contrary, in most of the passages that are not under debate, they are NOT used in a universal sense...in the context of the clear OT and NT teaching on election, and the teaching on God's purpose in the atonement, and in the context of the verses themselves, it is perfectly acceptable (I believe) to take the more specific application of the Greek words.
That said, I do believe that Christ is truly offered to "whomever will believe." The extent of the atonement one way or the other is never made the basis for NT evangelism, so the argument that we ("Calvinists" so-called) can't evangelize because we believe Christ did not die for all doesn't hold. Everyone (in this particular debate) agrees that everyone who believes is redeemed and everyone who does not believe does not receive the benefits of Christ's death. Though we disagree on the order (redemption or belief, and regeneration or belief), we agree on that much, at least.
Okay, I'm going to stop before I write another paper on this....
***
I'll be done with the semester by Wednesday, and am planning to go up to Carlos O'Kelly's today to see about working again for them over the summer, starting next week.
***
So...plans for the summer: work, go to LTC, spend as much time as possible with Nebraska friends (guys, I want to go hiking!!!!), leave around August 12th or so to drive out to Virginia.
***
I recently remembered a debate on the Civil Rights Act from US History...the Civil Rights movement was indubitably good, but the Act itself was debatably so, definitely on constitutional and arguably on political grounds. That is probably going to turn into a post, and one on which I'd like discussion.
***
On that note, please read this speech by John McCain on his philosophy of the judiciary. It is very encouraging to hear this, and I completely agree with it.
***
Summer reading list:
--Les Miserables (I finished Martin Chuzzlewit last week)
--Getting the Gospel Right (and discussing that with the friend who is graciously allowing me to borrow it)
--Pick Death of Death in the Death of Christ back up, and finish it.
--Finish The Perfectibility of Man
--Finish Calvin's Institutes...hopefully.
--Finish the Hornblower Series? Possibly?
--Finish Lone Survivor, on a Navy SEAL fighting in Afghanistan.
***
Mother's Day was great--the men made a church breakfast for the ladies, which was quite fun.
For the service, we had an "open letter to my Mom" day. I had not written out a letter beyond the card I got her (and gave her the day before), but I wrote down some points and practiced my extemporaneous speaking (Dr. Tallmon would be proud).
***
Mother's Day morning: My mom was playing Command and Conquer: Renegade, and picked up a flamethrower, when I insisted she wanted a more long-range weapon. So then I took the open elevator to the next floor (past the sniper who was stuck facing a wall), but it didn't go all the way up. I had to jump up and pull myself out of the shaft--but while I was trying to do so, my brother climbed on my back and clambered over me. All the while the bad guys on the next floor were looking at me with rather bemused expressions.
But I climbed up and started flaming the baddies with my own flamethrower, except they didn't fall. I realized that my hands were empty and I was making the "whoosh" sound with my mouth. The people didn't even look like bad guys anymore, but were still looking at me funny.
Then I woke up.
The weird thing is that I don't even play Renegade (let alone my Mom): I prefer the strategy style C&C games.
Anywho....
***
Something else kind of weird:
I think I went from being a covenant credobaptist with paedobaptist sympathies to a covenant paedobaptist with credobaptist sympathies Sunday afternoon...I have yet to awaken from that one. I'm still searching the Scriptures on that, but I think it finally sort of clicked.
By "covenant" baptist, generally, I mean the idea that baptism is a sign and symbol (signifying the spiritual reality) of God's covenant with His elect, the covenant of grace, which we receive by imparted faith. I still reject regenerative baptism of all sorts (Lutheran and Romanist) and think that the idea that baptism is a statement of the "commitment we've made to Christ" is just really shallow theology...
The difference between covenant credobaptists (Reformed Baptists) and paedobaptists (Presbyterian/Reformed) is fundamentally on if the children of believers are in some sense comprehended under the covenant of grace and are part of the visible church. The credobaptists say they are not in any sense under the covenant if they are not elect. The paedobaptists would not say that the children are necessarily elect, but are still a part of the covenant, much like all the Israelites were under the covenant without all being elect. In fact, they often draw a comparison between circumcision in the OT and baptism in the New (that's the part I'm still checking on).
***
I was asked last Monday if I believed in Limited Atonement or Unlimited Atonement. And I didn't realize until then how frustrating a question that is...phrased in those terms, there is no short answer. I would agree with Spurgeon that it is the atonement unlimited in extent that actually limits the effect of the atonement, so calling "Particular/Definite Redemption" "Limited Atonement" rather weights the question.
Short answer (free of the terms governed by polemical history) is this: I believe Christ died to redeem His spiritual Israel (the church), and He accomplished His purpose at the cross. I take this view from Scripture as a whole: from the Old Testament prophecies and the New Testament teaching on the intent and accomplishment of the atonement. Granted, there are several NT passages speaking of "all" and the "world," but the Greek words are not consistently used in a universal sense. On the contrary, in most of the passages that are not under debate, they are NOT used in a universal sense...in the context of the clear OT and NT teaching on election, and the teaching on God's purpose in the atonement, and in the context of the verses themselves, it is perfectly acceptable (I believe) to take the more specific application of the Greek words.
That said, I do believe that Christ is truly offered to "whomever will believe." The extent of the atonement one way or the other is never made the basis for NT evangelism, so the argument that we ("Calvinists" so-called) can't evangelize because we believe Christ did not die for all doesn't hold. Everyone (in this particular debate) agrees that everyone who believes is redeemed and everyone who does not believe does not receive the benefits of Christ's death. Though we disagree on the order (redemption or belief, and regeneration or belief), we agree on that much, at least.
Okay, I'm going to stop before I write another paper on this....
01 May 2008
Tagged
I've been tagged. But before I go into that, I want to share a wonderful new word that I discovered while reading National Review last week.
The word is "logorrhea." The context was something along the lines of "Bill Clinton made $50 million in speeches, which, when they're several hundred thousand a pop and the writer is logorrheic, isn't hard to do." Those who are acquainted with the rudiments of Greek may recognize in the first half of the word the root for a word that occurs three times in John 1:1.
And, yes, the meaning of the second half is what you think it is. If you haven't followed me thus far, look up this charming Neo-Latinism (or so says my dictionary, but the roots are Greek) and have a good laugh. :-)
Okay, so for my tag...
I was tagged by Miss Elizabeth Brown, from whose blog I copy the following instructions:
Here are the rules:
1. Write your own six word memoir.
2.Post it on your blog, and include a visual illustration if you so desire.
3.Link to the person who tagged you in their post.
4.Tag five more blogs with links.
5.Remember to leave a comment on the tagged blogs inviting them to play.
My six word memoir is simple--and you should be amazed that I'm able to say ANYTHING in six words. That doesn't happen often.:
"But for grace, there go I."
The most striking thing about that painting by Rembrandt is that the man in the beret, depicted as helping to raise the cross, is the painter himself. Ah, "have mercy, on me, a sinner," O Lord. Oh, the depths of grace..."O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!"
I hereby tag the following, with the injunction that they comply or face the everlasting wrath of...something or other. Anyway, I'm tagging
Michael K.
Shane A.
Ashton B.
Zach T.
ANNNNNNDDDD....
Mrs. Knipp!
I'll hand out the tags later...
In other news, my paternal grandparents and one of my uncles drove out here from North Carolina and have been here for the week; we went to the Old Market and an art community up in northern Omaha today. :-)
Oh, and I do have some news, too, but I'll write on that later, too.
The word is "logorrhea." The context was something along the lines of "Bill Clinton made $50 million in speeches, which, when they're several hundred thousand a pop and the writer is logorrheic, isn't hard to do." Those who are acquainted with the rudiments of Greek may recognize in the first half of the word the root for a word that occurs three times in John 1:1.
And, yes, the meaning of the second half is what you think it is. If you haven't followed me thus far, look up this charming Neo-Latinism (or so says my dictionary, but the roots are Greek) and have a good laugh. :-)
Okay, so for my tag...
I was tagged by Miss Elizabeth Brown, from whose blog I copy the following instructions:
Here are the rules:
1. Write your own six word memoir.
2.Post it on your blog, and include a visual illustration if you so desire.
3.Link to the person who tagged you in their post.
4.Tag five more blogs with links.
5.Remember to leave a comment on the tagged blogs inviting them to play.
My six word memoir is simple--and you should be amazed that I'm able to say ANYTHING in six words. That doesn't happen often.:
"But for grace, there go I."
The most striking thing about that painting by Rembrandt is that the man in the beret, depicted as helping to raise the cross, is the painter himself. Ah, "have mercy, on me, a sinner," O Lord. Oh, the depths of grace..."O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!"
I hereby tag the following, with the injunction that they comply or face the everlasting wrath of...something or other. Anyway, I'm tagging
Michael K.
Shane A.
Ashton B.
Zach T.
ANNNNNNDDDD....
Mrs. Knipp!
I'll hand out the tags later...
In other news, my paternal grandparents and one of my uncles drove out here from North Carolina and have been here for the week; we went to the Old Market and an art community up in northern Omaha today. :-)
Oh, and I do have some news, too, but I'll write on that later, too.
15 April 2008
My Car
I love my car. Not in any of the three Greek senses do I love her*, but I do so rather as one may love an inanimate object with which one is well acquainted and comfortable. The more do I love it as I reflect on how much of an unmitigated blessing it was to me. We have spent quite a bit of time together over the last year, and had some adventures, but let me tell you how we met.
Concurrently with seeking a job last year, I began car-shopping. Given my rural location, a mode of transportation faster than my legs or a bike is almost a necessity.
I am not picky in my cars. I’ve never been interested in sports cars; if I ever wanted to be “cool” by means of my conveyance, I effectively killed that possibility by starting off in a 12-passenger van. And, frankly, my dream car is a pre-1990 Ford F-150. Someday when I’m retired and can afford the gas, I’d still like to get one. But in the meantime, I have been perfectly content with the idea of starting off with a sedan or station wagon. Some wags might suggest that the only reason I would want a family car is as a selling point (with the parents, at least) when the time should come for me to a go a-courtin’:
“Oh, Mama, Henry has such a beautiful Ford Mustang; he’d drive safely with me, though, I’m sure.”
“Yes, but honey, don’t you think that a 5-seat sedan is much better for a couple planning to start a family?”
“But Mama, it’s so mundane…I can’t be a soccer mom from the very beginning of the courtship!”
“Well, it could be worse: he could have a mini-van.”
But that advantage aside (and though I didn’t choose it for that purpose, I’m not about to spurn the hand of Providence, either), sedans are cheaper on all counts—initial cost, gas, and insurance. Oh, insurance. What a curse did Cain lay upon all succeeding young men when he rashly beat his brother—one may justly suppose that he was also one for camel-races. Be that what it may, we young men have a reputation for being high liabilities on insurance policies. Young men with sports cars only exacerbate the problem. So, as a part of my Christian duty (and in keeping with my constitutional aversion to spending money on frivolities), I alleviated the problem by desiring a sedan.
Some fellow drivers would say that I don’t alleviate the problem at all; I’ll just say that I’ve not touched another car once, but there were times when it was grace alone that I didn’t. There was the time that I spun it over a ten-foot dirt embankment, but that’s another story for another time….
I preferred American-made cars, but that was not a big sticking point. My dad asked me what color I’d prefer, and I discovered that I did not have much of a preference—except that I detest yellow and all pastel shades. I hinted that I would paint whatever car I bought with military-issue olive drab anyway, but it was hinted in return that such a monstrosity would not reside on the premises, so that idea died in committee and my mental senate returned to maintaining the status quo (yes, I have one of those).
When it got down to it, I was planning (and dreading) to spend rather more than I wanted to on even a used car. Oh, ye of little faith. My dad is pretty good friends with a deacon in our church, who, by God’s providence, was looking for a minivan for his growing family at the same time. He had a 1998 Ford Taurus and was willing to sell it when they bought the minivan.
Now, let me say this about the Ford Taurus: it is a nice-looking car, and common enough that it doesn’t stick out. Actually, common enough that it occurs quite often—eerily so—that I park and find four other Tauruses and a Mercury Sable or two in the same row. If I’m not mistaken, it was the most widely sold car in its class while it was made. Given that I hate flashy things and like to blend in (without fitting in), this was a perfect fit. Oh, and the color was dark green. Score!
The bluebook value was in the $2,500-$3,000 range, but it had been salvaged anyway, and the transmission had some minor trouble—only that it leaked enough that it required a few bottles of fluid a year—so he took off the price of a new transmission in anticipation for my eventually replacing that.
That brought it down to a much more palatable price, which I was prepared to pay; and then my parents decided to bless me even further by paying the good deacon themselves. That made the sticker shock upon taking it to the DMV rather easier to handle...
My car has her* idiosyncrasies, of course, but then again, she puts up with me. On occasion, there will be an electronic beeping for no apparent reason (it did this for the former owners, too, and the car folks had no idea what caused it), but this is in keeping with the weird habits of pretty much all of my electronic equipment. I suppose if my car can handle the lengthy lectures I give her on random subjects, I can handle a little bit of reciprocal conversation. I can probably make more sense of that electronic beeping than anyone can of what I ramble on about, anyway.
But in all seriousness, I was more than blessed with my Ford Taurus, on all counts. Even besides the money-for-a-car-or-for-school issue (the solving of which was immeasurable grace by itself), everything about it, from the type of car to the color, was amazingly orchestrated (and was far more than I deserve). And, of course, we get along well, and there is easily enough room in the back seat and trunk for my guitars and amps, my other loves…but that will have to wait for another post.
Until then,
Colin
*Of course a car takes the female pronoun. She certainly has a personality, and the masculine wouldn’t sound quite right. Her name is Good Queen Bess, but that’s a story in itself.
Concurrently with seeking a job last year, I began car-shopping. Given my rural location, a mode of transportation faster than my legs or a bike is almost a necessity.
I am not picky in my cars. I’ve never been interested in sports cars; if I ever wanted to be “cool” by means of my conveyance, I effectively killed that possibility by starting off in a 12-passenger van. And, frankly, my dream car is a pre-1990 Ford F-150. Someday when I’m retired and can afford the gas, I’d still like to get one. But in the meantime, I have been perfectly content with the idea of starting off with a sedan or station wagon. Some wags might suggest that the only reason I would want a family car is as a selling point (with the parents, at least) when the time should come for me to a go a-courtin’:
“Oh, Mama, Henry has such a beautiful Ford Mustang; he’d drive safely with me, though, I’m sure.”
“Yes, but honey, don’t you think that a 5-seat sedan is much better for a couple planning to start a family?”
“But Mama, it’s so mundane…I can’t be a soccer mom from the very beginning of the courtship!”
“Well, it could be worse: he could have a mini-van.”
But that advantage aside (and though I didn’t choose it for that purpose, I’m not about to spurn the hand of Providence, either), sedans are cheaper on all counts—initial cost, gas, and insurance. Oh, insurance. What a curse did Cain lay upon all succeeding young men when he rashly beat his brother—one may justly suppose that he was also one for camel-races. Be that what it may, we young men have a reputation for being high liabilities on insurance policies. Young men with sports cars only exacerbate the problem. So, as a part of my Christian duty (and in keeping with my constitutional aversion to spending money on frivolities), I alleviated the problem by desiring a sedan.
Some fellow drivers would say that I don’t alleviate the problem at all; I’ll just say that I’ve not touched another car once, but there were times when it was grace alone that I didn’t. There was the time that I spun it over a ten-foot dirt embankment, but that’s another story for another time….
I preferred American-made cars, but that was not a big sticking point. My dad asked me what color I’d prefer, and I discovered that I did not have much of a preference—except that I detest yellow and all pastel shades. I hinted that I would paint whatever car I bought with military-issue olive drab anyway, but it was hinted in return that such a monstrosity would not reside on the premises, so that idea died in committee and my mental senate returned to maintaining the status quo (yes, I have one of those).
When it got down to it, I was planning (and dreading) to spend rather more than I wanted to on even a used car. Oh, ye of little faith. My dad is pretty good friends with a deacon in our church, who, by God’s providence, was looking for a minivan for his growing family at the same time. He had a 1998 Ford Taurus and was willing to sell it when they bought the minivan.
Now, let me say this about the Ford Taurus: it is a nice-looking car, and common enough that it doesn’t stick out. Actually, common enough that it occurs quite often—eerily so—that I park and find four other Tauruses and a Mercury Sable or two in the same row. If I’m not mistaken, it was the most widely sold car in its class while it was made. Given that I hate flashy things and like to blend in (without fitting in), this was a perfect fit. Oh, and the color was dark green. Score!
The bluebook value was in the $2,500-$3,000 range, but it had been salvaged anyway, and the transmission had some minor trouble—only that it leaked enough that it required a few bottles of fluid a year—so he took off the price of a new transmission in anticipation for my eventually replacing that.
That brought it down to a much more palatable price, which I was prepared to pay; and then my parents decided to bless me even further by paying the good deacon themselves. That made the sticker shock upon taking it to the DMV rather easier to handle...
My car has her* idiosyncrasies, of course, but then again, she puts up with me. On occasion, there will be an electronic beeping for no apparent reason (it did this for the former owners, too, and the car folks had no idea what caused it), but this is in keeping with the weird habits of pretty much all of my electronic equipment. I suppose if my car can handle the lengthy lectures I give her on random subjects, I can handle a little bit of reciprocal conversation. I can probably make more sense of that electronic beeping than anyone can of what I ramble on about, anyway.
But in all seriousness, I was more than blessed with my Ford Taurus, on all counts. Even besides the money-for-a-car-or-for-school issue (the solving of which was immeasurable grace by itself), everything about it, from the type of car to the color, was amazingly orchestrated (and was far more than I deserve). And, of course, we get along well, and there is easily enough room in the back seat and trunk for my guitars and amps, my other loves…but that will have to wait for another post.
Until then,
Colin
*Of course a car takes the female pronoun. She certainly has a personality, and the masculine wouldn’t sound quite right. Her name is Good Queen Bess, but that’s a story in itself.
13 March 2008
What we accomplish in DL
A "Campfire" story, with contributions from many of our Distance Learners, posted to our Student Discussion Forum (SDF). Enjoy!
15 February 2008
Quotes of the Week
Many of these taken from Gtalk conversations, others from emails, others from random conversations with little kids...
“You need to shave. You look like you’re growing a beard.” “Yeah, you look like you’ve been drinking a bunch of beers….”
”you need to utilize ‘utilize’ more often."
“You and your corn jokes…”
“Dude…you just shot down a helicopter with a car.”
“I bet you enjoy an occasional pipe.”
“A horrendously ugly lemur…”
“I’m a glitter bob!”
“Descartes walks into a bar, and the bartender asks him if he’d like a drink. The philosopher says, “I think not.” And ceases to exist.”
“The name is Bond. James Bond.”
“Swing dancing?!”
“Dude, where do you find this stuff?” “It’s a classic movie [White Christmas]!” “Do you have a weird video collection archive?”
“Bad girlfriends spam the SDF while pretending to pay attention to their boyfriend on Gtalk.” (NOTE: I am neither half of the couple in question. Just to be clear)
About a certain PHC male (again, not me) auctioning himself off to the Valentine’s Day Dance “well, hey, that’s capitalism, I guess.”
“Just call me…the loooove monkey.” ~Dinosaur
On Valentine’s Day: “Bah humbug.”
”I be a lit majer…invint! Push the boundries! Revolutionize! embrace the existiential language of our oblivion... or something”
“You see, i'm able to exercise my psychic abilities and forsee whenever there is quiz...and not finish the reading on that one day”
“"oh ya--big free will guy, that Colin"
“Nerds are the new cool.” “nerds are certainly not the new cool... that's why they're nerds. You can see how being a nerd logically disqualifies you from being cool. Your quote is postmodern, and thus needs to be terminated… i'll get the gun”
“You need to shave. You look like you’re growing a beard.” “Yeah, you look like you’ve been drinking a bunch of beers….”
”you need to utilize ‘utilize’ more often."
“You and your corn jokes…”
“Dude…you just shot down a helicopter with a car.”
“I bet you enjoy an occasional pipe.”
“A horrendously ugly lemur…”
“I’m a glitter bob!”
“Descartes walks into a bar, and the bartender asks him if he’d like a drink. The philosopher says, “I think not.” And ceases to exist.”
“The name is Bond. James Bond.”
“Swing dancing?!”
“Dude, where do you find this stuff?” “It’s a classic movie [White Christmas]!” “Do you have a weird video collection archive?”
“Bad girlfriends spam the SDF while pretending to pay attention to their boyfriend on Gtalk.” (NOTE: I am neither half of the couple in question. Just to be clear)
About a certain PHC male (again, not me) auctioning himself off to the Valentine’s Day Dance “well, hey, that’s capitalism, I guess.”
“Just call me…the loooove monkey.” ~Dinosaur
On Valentine’s Day: “Bah humbug.”
”I be a lit majer…invint! Push the boundries! Revolutionize! embrace the existiential language of our oblivion... or something”
“You see, i'm able to exercise my psychic abilities and forsee whenever there is quiz...and not finish the reading on that one day”
“"oh ya--big free will guy, that Colin"
“Nerds are the new cool.” “nerds are certainly not the new cool... that's why they're nerds. You can see how being a nerd logically disqualifies you from being cool. Your quote is postmodern, and thus needs to be terminated… i'll get the gun”
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