... err ... one

How to not impress your girlfriend, boyfriend, wife, husband, or general significant other - real life studies.

After the beautiful, romantic dinner in the beautiful, romantic restaurant, as you stroll around the lake hand-in-hand, as you stop and stare lovingly into their eyes, as you move forward to kiss them, do not, at the top of your lungs, shout, "Headbutts Equal Love!", and then prove it.

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I am taking a bunch of psychology courses this summer, and in one of them we are reviewing a study of primates' learning ability and intelligence. The study goes something like this...

The primate sits in a room in which the researcher has put a small box, say the size of shoe box. The box has holes in it, so the primate can see something shiny inside - primates love shiny things.

The primate begins trying to open the box, but it is not a normal box, it is a puzzle box. The primate has to slide certain doors and flip certain levers in a particular order for the box to be opened.

The primate doesn't like this very much. Often times it will start chuffing, grunting, and pounding its chest. It will also try and bite the box or pound it on the floor in order to open it.

Sometimes, in order to add a degree of difficulty, the scientist will shrink-wrap the puzzle box with cellophane.

This really pisses the primate off.

In other news, I just bought the new R.E.M. cd.

I timed myself, and it took me 17 seconds longer to get it open than it took a primate named Angie to open a shrink-wrapped puzzle box.

However, I did it with far less chuffing and pounding of the chest.

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"Honey," I said. "Do you realize that you will be xx years-old this year!?"

Evil look ensued, but I kept going anyway.

"Not only that," I said with gusto, "but when you turn xx years-old, you will be the oldest woman I have ever dated!"

Our couch is surprisingly comfortable to sleep on.

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I was sitting in my car yesterday, parked outside of a grocery store. My girlfriend had just run in to get some rolls for dinner.

As I was sitting there, I noticed a car pull up next to me.

The fellow got out of the car, put on those really big sunglasses that cover the entire top portion of your face, unfolded a blind-person's walking stick, and tapped his way into the store.

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21 Steps To A Better Alien Abduction

Step #1 - Go to a bar.

Step #2 - Drink lots of alcohol. Make sure that while you are drunk everyone knows that you are a huge fan of the X-files and Star Trek

Step #3 - Flaunt your "Roswell Rules" t-shirt.

Step #4 - Just before you leave the bar, make sure everyone knows you are going to go be abducted by aliens - but don't tell them where you are going to be abducted by aliens.

Step #5 - Read the last step again, it is kind of confusing - especially when you are drunk (see step #2).

Step #6 - Go out into the middle of nowhere and strip naked.

Step #7 - Put your clothes back on, what do you think, aliens have no sense of dignity?

Step #8 - Move toward strange light.

Step #9 - Turn off truck headlights you idiot! If you drain the battery you won't be able to drive to the nearest bar to brag about your alien abduction. Oh, and be sure that when you are moving toward strange lights they are in the sky - not on the ground. Take another drink (see rule #2).

Step #10 - When aliens finally do pick you up, ask to be taken to their leader (like they have never heard that one before).

Step #11 - Beg them for the deep anal probe!

Step #12 - Wave to Elvis.

Step #13 - Listen as they impart the wisdom of the ages to you.

Step #14 - In regards to intergalactic peace, don't breathe directly on them (see rule #2).

Step #15 - When they drop you off at your truck, remember to check to make sure you have your keys before they leave you there.

Step #16 - Walk back to the bar because you left your keys on the alien mother ship.

Step #17 - When you get to the bar, drink (see rule #2) and brag.

Step #18 - Be so loud, annoying, and smelly (see rule #2 and #11) that no one will listen to you.

Step #19 - Be so loud, annoying, and smelly (see rule #2 and #11) that everyone will make fun of you.

Step #20 - Get so drunk that you end up mumbling the wisdom of the ages to a napkin. Listen as napkin recites Shakespeare to you.

Step #21 - Wake up two days later despite the protests of all the townsfolk, discover you have forgotten the wisdom of the ages and despite many arduous attempts at communication, the napkin isn't talking to you anymore.

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Sometimes I let the web experience become monotonous. It gets to be a daily grind, a rut, something I have to do instead of something I want to do. Sometimes I just visit my list of daily sites - type in url, click here, type in url, click here... - without really caring much one way or another. Sometimes I think it gets to be all the same, that there can be nothing new or inspiring or fun or interesting or exciting or worthwhile.

And then I have a day like yesterday.

Thank you Jann for being so nice and always offering to listen.

Thank you Sara for the fun conversations about you and Rob and Stacy and me and ice cream and html and everything else.

Thank you Six for being so honest, open, and forthcoming with your ideas.

Thank you all for reminding me that while the web can be inspiring and wonderful and beautiful because of what is on it, it is more often inspiring and wonderful and beautiful because of who is on it.

Tito, get me a tissue.

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Saturday night.

"Thanks you for making dinner, honey. It was very good," I said.

"Your welcome dear. You aren't feeling sick or anything?"

Pause.

"Excuse me?"

"You know. Your stomach isn't upset or cramping?"

"Um, no."

"Oh good," she said, "I was a bit worried about those rolls - they didn't seem quite right after I made them. I wasn't sure if they were good."

20 minutes later I was in the restroom - in all kinds of pain.

The guilt factor she will be experiencing over the next few days will be *extremely* high; I will make sure of it.

For those of you interested, the rolls in the story were in fact the rolls referred to in Friday's post (you were dying to know, weren't you?!).

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more independent goodness

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More better goodness through more better bakiwop tips.

If at first you don't succeed, you probably shouldn't try skydiving.

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"Hi. My name's Matt, and I'm a website designer."

[All together] "Hi Matt!"

"I first started designing websites about four years ago. I was doing fine until I did my first website for a client, that's when it started going bad..."

* or *

Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be website designers.

* or *

How I got cheered up by a friend on AIM when an account manager and a client ganged up on me to create a site that looked exactly like this - only blue.

bakiwop: :-)
IMSpeechTherapy: whasuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup
bakiwop: designing boring webistes, so i thought i would try and find some stimulating chatter!
IMSpeechTherapy: hehe
IMSpeechTherapy: whatchoo working on?
bakiwop: lawyers websites - they all think that having a curve in the upper left hand corner is daring and a great design
IMSpeechTherapy: hehehe
IMSpeechTherapy: oh how i know that type of client
IMSpeechTherapy: this one client i have insists on HUGE beveled buttons and text under EVERYTHING to explain it
IMSpeechTherapy: not to mention garish, horrible color schemes
IMSpeechTherapy: ugh
bakiwop: oh yeah, gotta love bevelled buttons! ;-)
IMSpeechTherapy: "I can't tell it's a link" "Well, it is underlined you know" "YEah, but put 'click here' under it so there's no question"
bakiwop: :-) ha! sorry., but ha!
IMSpeechTherapy: no problem
IMSpeechTherapy: it's just tough for me not to laugh at them on the phone
bakiwop: i hear that
bakiwop: the contact for the site i am working on wants me to design a site that looks like this: http://sgwlaw.lawoffice.com/ - but blue
IMSpeechTherapy: AAAAGH!!!!!!
IMSpeechTherapy: i am blind now
bakiwop: :-) no doubt
IMSpeechTherapy: dad always said "son, if you masturbate, you'll go blind" and i'd say "dad, i'm over here"
IMSpeechTherapy: *ahem*
IMSpeechTherapy: rat-tat-tat-tat-TAH!

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I'm not a father, but I *am* a godfather (I'll put ya in da shement boots, capisce?!").

My goddaughter, age five, gave me a cute little card that she made herself (Everybody all together now, "Awwwwwwwwww.") and a cute little timex watch on which you can plug headphones into and listen to the radio ("Awwwwwwwwwwwwww.").

Receiving this adorable, unexpected gift got me to thinking about gift-opening

When I was a kid, my mother always made me open up the card first.

"They took the time to write you a note, and that is more important than any gift they could give!" She would always say with one hand on her hip and the other waving her index finger at me.

"But Mooooooooooo-ooooooom!" I would say as I opened the card, which I read as quickly as I could so I could get to the good stuff.

Nowadays, of course, I am an adult. A mature adult. A mature, intelligent adult. An adult that can make up his own mind about politics, religion, the nature of the universe, and yes, whether or not I should open up the card or the gift first.

I chose...the gift!

Of course, it helped that my mom lives over 300 miles away.

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Hell is: lying awake all night, in a soft and comfortable bed, until 5:30 in the morning when the alarm goes off, all-the-while humming the theme song to I dream of Jeannie.

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ASP And Me (A Tragedy)
I thought I was cool
I thought I was fly
With the ASP I knew
I thought I'd get by

But I couldn't, you see
'Twas those damned cookies
That got me down on my knees
With the beg and the plead

Oh Gods of ASP
Why have you forsaken me
All that I wanted
Was a working cookie

But it wasn't to be
Damn me and ASP

So you're stuck with this skin
'Til o'er ASP, I win

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Our esteemed governor, Jesse Ventura, was being interviewed recently about our state's (MN) senate not being able to reach an agreement over a budget for the next fiscal year (which starts in July).

The interviewer and Jesse were discussing what might happen to state-based programs in a month or so...

Interviewer: "Are you afraid that..."

Jesse: "I fear nothing."

Interviewer: "Okay. But when the..."

Jesse: "I'll tell you again...I fear nothing."

He seems to be like this in many of his interviews. I keep waiting for him to look into the camera, jump out of his chair, rip off his shirt, and yell, "Ooooohhhhhh Yeeeaaaahhhhh! Snap into a Slim Jim!"

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Well, I spent a good part of the day working on the skins for this site instead of writing the first draft of my research proposal (dumb! dumb! dumb!). I think the skins are working again. If you notice a problem just drop a line to let me know!!!

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Please forgive the name change. My host was having muchas problemas with the subdomain access.bakiwop.com, so rather than wait for them to work on it ($20 says they find Jimmy Hoffa first!), I decided to change up the name and the url a bit.

I picked bakiwop.com/excess in a fit of 4:00am humor. Get it? Access, excess? Similar sounds, you used to get access to my life through this blog, but now it is more like excess of my life because of all the superfluous stuff I write about? Get it? Ha! Okay, I agree, 4:00am humor sucks, but that's what you and I are stuck with now.

So, I hope the redirects from access.bakiwop.com work for a bit, and the new url is bakiwop.com/excess.

I really should start working on that ressearch proposal.

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Wonderful part of a wonderful conversation with a wonderful person...
GeminiMat: it sucked so many giant donkey balls
bakiwop: man, i HATE giant donkey balls!
I have completely forgotten that to which we were referring, but it just *sounds* so true.

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On Blogs of Note, fame, and weblogging. A rebuttal.

Dark side to fame?! Dark side to fame?! What I wouldn't *do* to be on the receiving end of the dark side of fame!

Sex? Good! Drugs? Good! One legged transvestite prostitutes? Absolute heaven! And how, my friend, you can whine about having an actual working ATM card and *two*, *TWO*, leather-clad midget biker chics from which to retrieve cash - and probably *without* ATM fees!

Night Train?! What I wouldn't do for a good bottle of Night Train! It sure beats the box of Thunderbird I have been nursing for three days!

Don't even get me started on the raccoons - I'm stuck with alcoholic lab rats.

You may have the audacity, nay, the temerity, nay, the big, brass pair to suggest that blogger fame is a $10, half-and-half, cold-cocking whore, but at least your fame affords you the opportunity to buy the lamp with which you can see her in a decent light! I'm stuck with fumbling around with my hands in the dark - and I have absolutely no idea what that wet, slimy stuff that I just put my hand in is.

And then...wait a minute...I don't even use blogger. Oops. Sorry.

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I have a commute. A really long commute. A really friggin' long commute.

Seriously long.

I HATE commuting. Given the choice between commuting, and say, being pulled apart by wild horses whilst simultaneously being dipped in a boiling vat of oil filled with piranhas - I would choose the, well, I would choose the commute - but it would be *close*. Commuting sucks.

So I have this commute. During this commute, while on the highway, where the speed limit is 70mph, I am frequently passed by children with small dogs that are enjoying their summer off by laughing at stupid adults on the highway as they watch from the walkway that runs parallel to the highway. Seriously. Yesterday I saw a group of pre-teens pointing and laughing at what they called the "really big line of cars moving really slow" - then they saw me looking at them, flipped me off, and biked away while I just sat there in traffic.

The little shits.

All this, however, changed today.

I was online and saw a review of the BMW Films site.

I had heard of this site earlier, but had skipped going because I thought they'd just be 10 minute ads. They are, but they are also a *lot* of fun.

The stories are about this driver who does amazing things with this BMW. He spins it, he flips it, he weaves in and out of traffic, he jumps it into the air, and he saves little boys from harm (no one's perfect!). He doesn't let anything get in his way.

I was inspired.

So on the way home yesterday, I drove like him. I weaved in and out of traffic. I accelerated hard. Stopped fast. I basically acted insane (but that's alright, because I Am Driver God)!

I was Driver God right until the point that the state trooper pulled me over and gave me a ticket for speeding.

Damn mortals.

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Turns out I am an untalented, unoriginal hack (which, to many of you I am sure, is no surprise!).

I had an entry on the thirteenth "If at first you don't succeed, you probably shouldn't try skydiving." - turns out that SpasticReb - a really neat-o type person - had a Brain Spasm way before I knew what a Brain Spasm was.

In more untalented, unoriginal hack news: After another LONG-ASS COMMUTE I have begun asking myself why city, county, and state engineers couldn't come up with a more 3-D approach to the highway system

bakiwop.excess - your source for untlaneted, unoriginal hack-edness.

caveat lector