The Gentlemens’ Haberdashery

Yeah, I’m doing this.

The (bucket) list:

-My house

-Megan’s House

-The Moon (it will never happen)

-Canada (he’ll claim he has but he hasn’t)

-The shower (I watched him go a whole summer shower free but scat filled)

-A bistro (this one could be wrong, I’ll be honest)

-Two bistros (Feeling confident on this one though)

-Two bistros at once  (well, he almost accomplished this by quantum tunneling through two connected Bistros)

-The Rockwall in Trees Gym (Seriously, does he ever work out?)

-His girlfriends house (this one is low, I know.  No pride from this corner)

-Russia (admittedly far away)

Annnnd that’s it for now.  Hopefully by the end of this weekend he can cross some of those off.

I saw Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist today.  This is convenient, because now when people ask me what kind of girls I’m into, I have a single example to which to refer them.  The Norah character is basically awesome and it is sad that she isn’t a real person.  I am okay with the level of patheticness pining after a fictional woman brings me.

… is sitting around me as I speak. I can itemize it, if you’d like. If you don’t like, you can get bent. (more…)

So some of you might notice that when I am away on AIM, it often says HC, or hc, or Harvard Calls.  It might be perplexing, but the most astute of you will realize that this tends to coincide with when I sleep.  The basic gist is this:  When I was a freshman, I was taking a nap.  During my nap, I had a dream where my phone kept ringing.  In my dream, I answered it, and it turned out to be the “Harvard Collegiate Dictionary”, asking me about something or the other.  It turned out my phone really was ringing, and I eventually woke up and answered it.  Long story short, the concept of the Harvard dictionary calling me became the impetus for “Harvard Calls”, my code phrase for “I am sleeping.”  So now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

http://the-gentlemens-haberdashery.com/jormungandr/

Teaching myself html through an amazing tutorial at www.echoecho.com.  Definitely worth checking out if you had any desire to learn html, javascript, css, flash, etc.  The tutorials are relevant, easily approachable, and come self equipped with quizzes that, while you may feel silly taking, help cement what you are reading.  Please though, for gods sake, don’t take my page as an example of what comes from reading their site.  What I am doing right now is splashing up each new lesson at some place on my site to make sure I know how to do it.  I would never suggest taking it as an example.

More to come.

…are hard to get.  I technically have one, but it’s taking forever for them to let me get started on it.  It’s kind of crucial that I do so, immediately. :(  I also need a real people job.

In other news, I learned today that there is such a thing as “The Astronaut Hall of Fame”.  It seems to me that just being an astronaut should be the only criterion for entry.

Well, I haven’t posted in quite some time, as per normal, so I suppose it’s time for a state of the BGreman address. (more…)

Just a quick note to let anyone know that I now officially have my own blog on this site, so I will no longer be using this one to clutter up with my pictures and stories from England. There’s a link to it over there on the left, or it’s here.

I was turning off the DVR, and the box was on the N/Noggn, Nickeldoen’s teens/kids digital cable channel. There was this show on called “Oobi”, which is ostensibly for pre-schoolers. It was a bunch of bare-hand puppets with googly-eyes on them. (Like, the people made puppets with their hands). Fine. The problem is, they all spoke in broken-ass English. “Oobi sick.” “Dr. Rose check Oobi body. Make sure Oobi healthy.” Now, I’m no language acquisition expert (paging Ali, please weigh in), but it seems to me that teaching pre-schoolers broken English is probably not a terribly good strategy. I know if I had a kid, I wouldn’t want it walking around talking like a goddamn caveman. (Cue the Geico guys coming in after me).

I just bought a new truck yesterday and i swear to god i’ll never buy a used car again. Instead of getting that “This guy is going to rape my sweet ass” feeling I usually get buying a used car. I had a fuzzy happy feeling deep inside my wang. I picked up a Chevy Colorado and I friggin love the thing. Now all I need for it is a sweet gun rack and a cowboy hat.