April 1, 2002

pleasantly splintered

A pleasant day. Reporting at 8:00 was cancelled, replaced by 9:00 peer conferences for our stories (including my Zion article for the Ripsaw) due this Friday. I sprung out of bed at 7:30 without electronic means, and puttered around until quarter eight, allowing for my usual one hour fifteen minute daily routine. Showered, got naked, tossed wet shower clothes in hamper to moulder, brushed teeth while carrying on conversation with Tom, cleaned my room and defragged my harddrive while eating breakfast.

I love the term defrag… if you’re a first-person shootin’ junkie it conjures up images of taking the hundreds of opponents’ bodies you’ve accumulated and sweeping them under a carpet somewhere. However, this disposal practice can be quite problematic without the right tools. To hide bodies you need really deep shag carpeting and a vacuum that can handle the fiber jungles, like Mark’s vac that has three settings for low medium and high shag.

If you don’t defrag under the carpet, where then can a routine killer hide the bodies? A corpse is difficult to carry, and the shape makes them awkward to stuff in even the largest backpack. What you need is a corpse grinder. Stick the nozzle in the top of the backpack, stick a corpse in the grinder, and crank the handle for a delightful slurry. Not only does the grinder make very efficient use of the space in a backpack, the end product also eliminates the need for a water bladder, or even food for that matter. Just stick your Platypus in the slurry and dine as you walk.

When in use, the grinder also plays a nice little ditty to entertain nearby monkeys.

For breakfast I had that new Nesquik cereal, which claims it will turn your milk into a bubbling pond of chocolate and give sugar poisoning to any children in a 10 foot radius. In reality it is like Coco Puffs, but with smaller puffs that don’t explode like shrapnel grenades in your mouth. While I prefer Cocoa Krispies for my morning hit of culinary aphrodesia, Nesquik has won my favor until the box runs out.

I love how of those three products, none of them spell their name right.

The entire hour of Editing class was spent trying to get the damn SynchronEyes program working. Sitting on my laptop with 4% battery life I digested McSweeney’s.com, SomethingAwful.com and theOnion.com, and received college credit for doing all of it.

Philosophy was cancelled due to professor illness for about the 100th time this semester, and I’m starting to get quite concerned for my professor. The gifted hour allowed some loafing in the Wooch! lounge, for which I purchased thumb tacks during a lapse in excitement. Afterwards I slumped off to the library to do some last minute studying with Crash Test Dummies and Cake for today’s Media Law quiz. The quiz went fine, I went home, watched the deleted scenes from “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back” for the second or third time (I still haven’t seen the movie) and ate a bagel heaped with summer sausage and colby jack. I went to my room to take a nap and saw that 55% more of the floor was showing than I expected. “Where did all my crap go?” I wondered… and slowly remembered that I cleaned my room this morning. All crap accounted for, I dozed off for an hour to They Might Be Giants.

With my evening after jazz I decided to run a bit at the track; my first bout of cardiovascular exercise since the summer. Well, first aside from snowboarding, which not really exercise and more of a refining of one’s ability to bear flesh wounds. I ran, it hurt, I ran some more, it hurt some more, I ran, the endorphins kicked in, and I kept running for an hour. Probably got in four or five miles, I’m not sure. Counting laps is for losers that need proof and bragging rights. The real men (and tough women) run until they get tired, then keep running.

I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Luckily my computer is right next to my bed, so if I can worm across three feet of floor that has been plunged back into an absolute mess, you’ll get to hear about every bit of splintered muscle and grindly tendon.