i am happy to announce that i have had a recent sighting of mr pompom! now that i am not a part of chemistry any more, i have felt the severe loss of not seeing mr pompom on a nearly daily basis.
the sighting
so just because it was convenient, i decided to use one of the upper-level science computer labs to print out some miscellaneous papers. i trekked up the two flights, and arrived in a moderately filled computer lab. i spotted an open computer and plopped down. the chair to my right was empty, but the computer was in use.
i started to take care of business, when plop! the mysterious computer user had returned. and to my pleasure and surprise it was mr pompom! i rejoiced at the sight of his grizzly beard, fuzzy head of hair, dumbledore glasses, and quirky baseball cap. i grinned.
out of my periphery, i noticed that he was working on a chemistry lab write-up. and was having a pretty tough time with it.
this was evidenced by the heavy sighs, grunts, moans, "under-his-breath" mutterings, and fist pounds that conveyed his frustration.
and like only mr pompom can do, after each sigh/grunt/moan/mutter/fist pound (which i believe were all a slight bit exaggerated for dramatic effect) he would slowly angle his head and peek at my expression. after the tenth time, i couldn't help but giggle and give him a huge grin.
ahhh...i adore him.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
may i see your contact sheets?
for my final project in photography, i decided to make an idea i had ruminating in my mind for some time, into reality. the idea was this: to do a photo shoot that was reminiscent of 1920 french nude postcards, except that the models would be wearing black lace panties, corsets, tights ect, and perhaps in some frames nothing at all.
who were the models? me and daylily. sister c was supposed to be the third but due to her crash injury (big gash in forehead) she opted out.
because of the depth of my excitement for the shoot, i put a motherload of thought and effort into making a decent set, appropriate erotic outfits, and even invested in yards of black lace and black cotton fabric.
i was pumped. the day came and passed. everything went fairly smoothly, and i was sure i had gotten some good pictures.
a few days later, when i had a big chunk of free time, i decided to develop the three rolls of film i had taken, and enlarge some of the decent ones. i developed the film alone, and without incident. but when the time came to start enlarging some pictures, my professor came into the photo lab.
i greeted him (description: young, glasses, more sensitively effeminate than ruggedly mannish)and instead of responding and leaving me to my own devices he kept walking over to my station.
-so how's your project going?
+oh, good. i did a shoot over the weekend and took three rolls, so i hope i got some good pictures.
-what is it that you did?
+oh, well. (i hemmed and hawed). my idea was to do a shoot reminiscent of the 1920s burlesque and pinup girls and such. with lots of black lace. (i tried to stay in safe and tactful zone).
-oh really? may i see the contact sheets when they're done?
my eyes shuttered as my tongue stuck to the roof of my suddenly dry mouth. like someone right before death, my photo shoot flashed before my eyes.
daylily naked, daylily with corset and panties, ME with playboy-esque black bunny outfit, ME with only tights and black lace panties... you get the picture.
ME.
+uhhhhhhhhh... sure. (what was i supposed to say?)
i zoomed into the dark room, where i sequestered myself for the following three hours. every time i ventured out of the safe haven, i peeked my head out of the curtains and scoped out the working area. professor absent? i went out. professor present? i slowly retracted my head and sped back into my cave.
once when i had to go out into the light and check on the test strip i had made, i unwittingly went out. i glanced at the tables. professor and teacher's aide present and talking. whipped my head back to me test strip, strove to look extremely focused and busy. and marched straight back into the dark room. throwing open the curtains as i went.
having passed that crucial day unscathed, i now feel that my contacts will remain pure from the professors gaze. if he happens to request a viewing, they are officially lost, retired, gone, back at home, ect...
who were the models? me and daylily. sister c was supposed to be the third but due to her crash injury (big gash in forehead) she opted out.
because of the depth of my excitement for the shoot, i put a motherload of thought and effort into making a decent set, appropriate erotic outfits, and even invested in yards of black lace and black cotton fabric.
i was pumped. the day came and passed. everything went fairly smoothly, and i was sure i had gotten some good pictures.
a few days later, when i had a big chunk of free time, i decided to develop the three rolls of film i had taken, and enlarge some of the decent ones. i developed the film alone, and without incident. but when the time came to start enlarging some pictures, my professor came into the photo lab.
i greeted him (description: young, glasses, more sensitively effeminate than ruggedly mannish)and instead of responding and leaving me to my own devices he kept walking over to my station.
-so how's your project going?
+oh, good. i did a shoot over the weekend and took three rolls, so i hope i got some good pictures.
-what is it that you did?
+oh, well. (i hemmed and hawed). my idea was to do a shoot reminiscent of the 1920s burlesque and pinup girls and such. with lots of black lace. (i tried to stay in safe and tactful zone).
-oh really? may i see the contact sheets when they're done?
my eyes shuttered as my tongue stuck to the roof of my suddenly dry mouth. like someone right before death, my photo shoot flashed before my eyes.
daylily naked, daylily with corset and panties, ME with playboy-esque black bunny outfit, ME with only tights and black lace panties... you get the picture.
ME.
+uhhhhhhhhh... sure. (what was i supposed to say?)
i zoomed into the dark room, where i sequestered myself for the following three hours. every time i ventured out of the safe haven, i peeked my head out of the curtains and scoped out the working area. professor absent? i went out. professor present? i slowly retracted my head and sped back into my cave.
once when i had to go out into the light and check on the test strip i had made, i unwittingly went out. i glanced at the tables. professor and teacher's aide present and talking. whipped my head back to me test strip, strove to look extremely focused and busy. and marched straight back into the dark room. throwing open the curtains as i went.
having passed that crucial day unscathed, i now feel that my contacts will remain pure from the professors gaze. if he happens to request a viewing, they are officially lost, retired, gone, back at home, ect...
how to achieve the wind-mill effect
there's this little trick i've been playing on mother k. she complains that it destroys her delicate sensibilities. i say, it's great fun. and entertainment.
PROCEDURES TO ACHIEVE DESIRED WIND-MILL EFFECT:
acquire mother k's cell phone. try to find it when it's not attached to her butt, hip, or breast
if she is in the same room, move to an adjacent one, out of her far-sighted sight
station yourself-ex: chair, couch, stool...
open phone, search for the sounds category, find ring tone (lovesway-scary gary's, bossabutgo-sister c's, tea in the afternoon-daylily's), play a snippet of the ringtone
pause background sounds
if no footsteps are to be heard, start shouting--> get the phone, get the phone
upon hearing what sounds like a stampede, sit back and enjoy the show
THE WIND-MILL EFFECT IN ACTION:
immediately after hearing her hunny's ring, or her precious daughter's, mother k shoots out of her throne (whether it be lavatory or otherwise)and rushes into the room her ears lead her to
as she gallops into the room at a frantic and harried pace, she flails her arms in a frenetic whirling motion. circular and whippy, her arms appear as if noodles just out al dente from their boiling water bath. (hence THE WIND-MILL EFFECT)
her face is lightly shiny from perspiration thanks to her run, and her eyes are focused on the small black piece of technology in my hands
as this odd behavior is exhibited, she screeches
give it to me, GIVE IT TO ME!
i proceed to do just that
she puts it up to her ear, not bothering to look at the screen (which tells all), and breathes out a hello
only to be met with silence
JUNE! she throws down the phone in a fit. JUNE!
her eyes squint in anger, and again her arms resume their flailing motion as she launches herself at me like a tiger.
i run. the chase commences.
PROCEDURES TO ACHIEVE DESIRED WIND-MILL EFFECT:
acquire mother k's cell phone. try to find it when it's not attached to her butt, hip, or breast
if she is in the same room, move to an adjacent one, out of her far-sighted sight
station yourself-ex: chair, couch, stool...
open phone, search for the sounds category, find ring tone (lovesway-scary gary's, bossabutgo-sister c's, tea in the afternoon-daylily's), play a snippet of the ringtone
pause background sounds
if no footsteps are to be heard, start shouting--> get the phone, get the phone
upon hearing what sounds like a stampede, sit back and enjoy the show
THE WIND-MILL EFFECT IN ACTION:
immediately after hearing her hunny's ring, or her precious daughter's, mother k shoots out of her throne (whether it be lavatory or otherwise)and rushes into the room her ears lead her to
as she gallops into the room at a frantic and harried pace, she flails her arms in a frenetic whirling motion. circular and whippy, her arms appear as if noodles just out al dente from their boiling water bath. (hence THE WIND-MILL EFFECT)
her face is lightly shiny from perspiration thanks to her run, and her eyes are focused on the small black piece of technology in my hands
as this odd behavior is exhibited, she screeches
give it to me, GIVE IT TO ME!
i proceed to do just that
she puts it up to her ear, not bothering to look at the screen (which tells all), and breathes out a hello
only to be met with silence
JUNE! she throws down the phone in a fit. JUNE!
her eyes squint in anger, and again her arms resume their flailing motion as she launches herself at me like a tiger.
i run. the chase commences.
coffee snob vs. coffee slut
mother k= the coffee snob
me, june jaynes= the coffee slut
let me define these terms.
coffee snob: a caffeine junkie who holds high expectations about the quality of coffee beans, only drinks smooth and non-acidic brew, and buys their daily java for exorbitant prices off the internet
coffee slut: a caffeine junkie who expects nothing of their coffee, and their only requirement is that it gives them the desired buzz
me, june jaynes= the coffee slut
let me define these terms.
coffee snob: a caffeine junkie who holds high expectations about the quality of coffee beans, only drinks smooth and non-acidic brew, and buys their daily java for exorbitant prices off the internet
coffee slut: a caffeine junkie who expects nothing of their coffee, and their only requirement is that it gives them the desired buzz
recycling bins: theft or opportunity?
everyday, on my way to my room, i always pass by the bright blue row of recycling bins. before now, i have virtually ignored their existence, just seeing them as another form of garbage cans, but not now. now, that is not the case. now, i see them as big bins of cash, just waiting to be taken advantage of.
it all stemmed from an epiphany i had. i had just finished chugging down my water when i took a real good look at the bottle. CASH REFUND CA HI and OR 5₵. i froze, amazed at my find. even though i did know that water bottles could now be recycled for $$, it hadn’t really clicked. then, my brain got to thinking. if i didn’t remember, then a whole lot of other people probably didn’t either.
i tested this hypothesis by going in search of the mini recycle bin on our floor. i peeked in the plastic labeled crate and voila! mother lode. mutha uckin lode. i ran back into my room, grabbed a reusable shopping bag, unlocked my door and propped it open, ran back into the laundry room, grabbed as many bottles as i could, and fled from the crime scene. i was fifty cents richer.
thus began my raids on the small recycling bins. but after a week, i was ready to take on the big daddies. the big bright blue bins that i regularly walked past every day. the oh-so-convenient bins that made it so easy to drop in one’s recycling as they walked past them. i made plans—plans that included getting up really early in the morning, sneaking downstairs to their location, and pilfering them all.
unfortunately, my plans blew up into tiny little plastic fragments, after mother k so sweetly said: isn’t taking plastic bottles from the recycling bins a crime? i thought, wondered, and stewed about this for days. is it? or is it just a shady opportunity? what would happen if i did get caught? would i get punished, and then become notorious around campus as the plastic pilferer?
then one day my turf was invaded. i was washing strawberries in the sink in the laundry room, when a gaggle of girls stampeded in.
quick! two said.
the third took four steps in, glanced at the plastic recycling bin, realized it was empty of treasure, and altogether they bolted. i was furious. i had abstained from my possibly criminal activities just to be shown up like that? oh hell no.
relying on your discretion, i now do admit the occasional ransacking of crates. only when i am there, and only when no one is about. i have begun to store them safely in the second closet in my room. i await the day when i have enough to buy something of substance.
it all stemmed from an epiphany i had. i had just finished chugging down my water when i took a real good look at the bottle. CASH REFUND CA HI and OR 5₵. i froze, amazed at my find. even though i did know that water bottles could now be recycled for $$, it hadn’t really clicked. then, my brain got to thinking. if i didn’t remember, then a whole lot of other people probably didn’t either.
i tested this hypothesis by going in search of the mini recycle bin on our floor. i peeked in the plastic labeled crate and voila! mother lode. mutha uckin lode. i ran back into my room, grabbed a reusable shopping bag, unlocked my door and propped it open, ran back into the laundry room, grabbed as many bottles as i could, and fled from the crime scene. i was fifty cents richer.
thus began my raids on the small recycling bins. but after a week, i was ready to take on the big daddies. the big bright blue bins that i regularly walked past every day. the oh-so-convenient bins that made it so easy to drop in one’s recycling as they walked past them. i made plans—plans that included getting up really early in the morning, sneaking downstairs to their location, and pilfering them all.
unfortunately, my plans blew up into tiny little plastic fragments, after mother k so sweetly said: isn’t taking plastic bottles from the recycling bins a crime? i thought, wondered, and stewed about this for days. is it? or is it just a shady opportunity? what would happen if i did get caught? would i get punished, and then become notorious around campus as the plastic pilferer?
then one day my turf was invaded. i was washing strawberries in the sink in the laundry room, when a gaggle of girls stampeded in.
quick! two said.
the third took four steps in, glanced at the plastic recycling bin, realized it was empty of treasure, and altogether they bolted. i was furious. i had abstained from my possibly criminal activities just to be shown up like that? oh hell no.
relying on your discretion, i now do admit the occasional ransacking of crates. only when i am there, and only when no one is about. i have begun to store them safely in the second closet in my room. i await the day when i have enough to buy something of substance.
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