There were several applicants for the haiku contest that would determine who has the right to use the letter “T” as his or her signature (ironically, only one of them has a first name that begins with T). The haikus:
Tea in paw, kimono-clad.
Do not throw feces.
oil of bergamot
a key flavor of earl grey
too bold for monkeys
Rare monkeys pick tea
Toiling daily in
They swear off the drink
I rearrange tea
To eat, the way monkeys would
With cool fridge magnets
(Trevor had several entries; he’ll probably post the others, which were also quite good, in the comments section.)
Man, this is a tough decision. I don’t feel right rejecting anyone who spent the time to write such a beautiful poem. Seriously, they’re all fantastic haikus. But I have to make a decision. It’s what they pay me for [Editor’s Note: Currently, no one is paying Jamey to do anything]. With all due respect to Pat, Trevor, and Jean, I am selecting Neeraja’s poem (which I’ve entitled “Monkey See, Monkey Doo”) as the winner. I was looking for a haiku that moved me on a personal level, and that’s the one. Neeraja, you have earned the right to use “-T” as your comment-section signature. Congratulations. To the losers, I offer you the consolation of the letters “V,” “W,” “Z,” and the “@” symbol.
The Old Man and the Couch
Recently, Caroline has been trying to convince me to buy a sectional couch. I’m easily coerced, so I entertained the offer, despite the fact that I’m personally against buying new furniture. It’s the third worst investment you can make, right under buying a new car and purchasing horse hair futures. I don’t own a single piece of furniture that I didn’t get for free from a friend, buy from a friend or yard sale, or make myself (see Exhibit A: The Cat Condo).
But with my new job, I plan on being in
Except that Caroline and I re-measured our tiny living room and realized that no sectional couch can possibly fit into it. We’ll have to wait until we get a new place. I’m fine with that—I like the couch we have—with one caveat: I need to get a cushioned tray on which to put my dinner plate when I eat on the couch. Currently I use one of our two couch cushions for lumbar support (yes, I’m the oldest 26-year-old you’ll ever meet) and the other as a tray. Caroline ends up with no pillows, which is fine with me, but she doesn’t seem happy about it.
If you answered yes to any of those questions, you’re not imagining things. You’re viewing this photo in 3D. 4D, really, if you count time as a dimension (as 9 out of 10 physicists do). The key to making the average photo jump into the third dimension is, obviously, disposable 3D glasses, as pictured here.
I obtained these glasses at a Friday screening of Beowulf 3D. I had read that Beowulf would make a clear case for the future of films, paving the way for surefire blockbusters like James Cameron’s Avatar. Now having experience Beowulf in 3D, I’m unsold on the format. It’s cool in action scenes, granted, but otherwise it felt like the director went out of his way to include unnecessary objects in the foreground to create that 3D feel. A random shoe or branch in the foreground took me out of the experience of the film instead of further immersing myself in it, as was the intended effect. But it definitely left me curious to see what Cameron can do with the same technology.
Call Me Old Fashioned
Weekly Scrubs Comment
Down to The Wire