BO KNOWS Batman
So apparently Columbia Pictures had a deal with Major League Baseball that was recently nixed, where for three days, all bases (except for home plate) would bear the Spider-Man 2 logo. At first I was horrified by this, but then some Twins player was quoted as saying, "It's for kids, and kids love it... It would have been cool to see the Spider-Man logo for those three days. Kids could have worn their Spider-Man gear to the stadium." I have to agree. Back in the day, if I'd gotten to see Bo Jackson round second and beat the throw from right field by sliding into the BATMAN INSIGNIA... well, I would've just been over the moon.
Time has been too much with me this week. Anarchist closed last Saturday to sparse but happy audiences (most of which were supplied by extended Dir clans), but already it feels like I've been away from it for a month. I passed our Comedia worksop clown/divinity school-student/ponytailed-fellow on my bike the other day, and it struck me that this whole thing started and ended with April, pretty much. Now it feels like it barely happened. In addition to this weirdness, my internal clock is still running on Fulton County Board of Education time, so it really feels like I should be getting out of school next week (I keep thinking, "I wonder if the yearbooks are arriving soon?") instead of June 12. I keep thinking about graduation last year, and how we've completed a whole solar orbit since being out of high school. So my mind's playing Twister with a couple different times right now. And I still seem to run out of time to do my homework each night. Is my mind transcending the ages? Did the university institute a second Daylight Savings? And does the Facebook have anything to do with those four-hour black-outs of which I have no recollection?
Y'know, I hate it when I apply for something, and when I don't hear back for a while, I get all used to the idea that I was rejected, and then I get over it and forget about it, until weeks later... comes the rejection letter. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to say... FUCK YOU!"
Speaking of high school, today is the AP United States History exam. My sister called me last night for some last-minute advice. In celebration, Rita and I tried to recall all the presidents in chronological order. We completely forgot about Pierce and Fillmore, and forgot that there was a Tyler and a Taylor. Jeremy totally schooled us afterwards, though; Rita, he named them all in a minute flat. He's College Bowl, though, so we can ridicule his obviously superior knowledge as useless.
So, on to the Story of the Week: I was in the campus bookstore on Tuesday when there came a large shattering crash from the Starbucks side of the bookstore. The woman next to me said, "that sounded like a gun!" and I thought, "no it didn't, someone just dropped something." So I go up and pay (for my mailing envelopes) and I walk over to the Starbucks to do some homework. Apparently as I sit down, I didn't notice that everyone in the store was nervously backing away from this guy sitting at one corner of the store facing the window. So I'm writing for only a few minutes before these two cops bust into the room and yell at this guy, jerk him out of the chair and cuff him, then grab his stuff and escort him out of the bookstore. From the bystanders, I gather that this guy came in to the Starbucks, walked up to a Snapple fridge, pulled out a handgun, shot the Snapple fridge, put the gun away, and walked over to a table by the window where he sat silently until the cops came and got him. Eventually, I did look behind me to see the shattered door of the Snapple fridge, which I hadn't noticed at all when I walked into the Starbucks to sit down 15 feet from the Snapple-killer.
I'd like to give a big shout-out to the guy who was courteous enough to stick around 30 minutes afterwards and describe the Snapple homicide to the cops, but not outspoken enough to warn me that there was an armed man in the store, even though I had to push past his rubbernecking self when I first made my oblivious entrance. Thanks, guy.
So apparently Columbia Pictures had a deal with Major League Baseball that was recently nixed, where for three days, all bases (except for home plate) would bear the Spider-Man 2 logo. At first I was horrified by this, but then some Twins player was quoted as saying, "It's for kids, and kids love it... It would have been cool to see the Spider-Man logo for those three days. Kids could have worn their Spider-Man gear to the stadium." I have to agree. Back in the day, if I'd gotten to see Bo Jackson round second and beat the throw from right field by sliding into the BATMAN INSIGNIA... well, I would've just been over the moon.
Time has been too much with me this week. Anarchist closed last Saturday to sparse but happy audiences (most of which were supplied by extended Dir clans), but already it feels like I've been away from it for a month. I passed our Comedia worksop clown/divinity school-student/ponytailed-fellow on my bike the other day, and it struck me that this whole thing started and ended with April, pretty much. Now it feels like it barely happened. In addition to this weirdness, my internal clock is still running on Fulton County Board of Education time, so it really feels like I should be getting out of school next week (I keep thinking, "I wonder if the yearbooks are arriving soon?") instead of June 12. I keep thinking about graduation last year, and how we've completed a whole solar orbit since being out of high school. So my mind's playing Twister with a couple different times right now. And I still seem to run out of time to do my homework each night. Is my mind transcending the ages? Did the university institute a second Daylight Savings? And does the Facebook have anything to do with those four-hour black-outs of which I have no recollection?
Y'know, I hate it when I apply for something, and when I don't hear back for a while, I get all used to the idea that I was rejected, and then I get over it and forget about it, until weeks later... comes the rejection letter. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to say... FUCK YOU!"
Speaking of high school, today is the AP United States History exam. My sister called me last night for some last-minute advice. In celebration, Rita and I tried to recall all the presidents in chronological order. We completely forgot about Pierce and Fillmore, and forgot that there was a Tyler and a Taylor. Jeremy totally schooled us afterwards, though; Rita, he named them all in a minute flat. He's College Bowl, though, so we can ridicule his obviously superior knowledge as useless.
So, on to the Story of the Week: I was in the campus bookstore on Tuesday when there came a large shattering crash from the Starbucks side of the bookstore. The woman next to me said, "that sounded like a gun!" and I thought, "no it didn't, someone just dropped something." So I go up and pay (for my mailing envelopes) and I walk over to the Starbucks to do some homework. Apparently as I sit down, I didn't notice that everyone in the store was nervously backing away from this guy sitting at one corner of the store facing the window. So I'm writing for only a few minutes before these two cops bust into the room and yell at this guy, jerk him out of the chair and cuff him, then grab his stuff and escort him out of the bookstore. From the bystanders, I gather that this guy came in to the Starbucks, walked up to a Snapple fridge, pulled out a handgun, shot the Snapple fridge, put the gun away, and walked over to a table by the window where he sat silently until the cops came and got him. Eventually, I did look behind me to see the shattered door of the Snapple fridge, which I hadn't noticed at all when I walked into the Starbucks to sit down 15 feet from the Snapple-killer.
I'd like to give a big shout-out to the guy who was courteous enough to stick around 30 minutes afterwards and describe the Snapple homicide to the cops, but not outspoken enough to warn me that there was an armed man in the store, even though I had to push past his rubbernecking self when I first made my oblivious entrance. Thanks, guy.
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