Worth a thousand words

In case you haven't noticed, I finally posted pictures from Quasar's first day at Sectionals to the net. The beginning of the blog actually came from a failed attempt to introduce web journalism to my fourth grade class at Garrison in D.C., and fittingly, the Flickr account has the same origins. Enjoy, all.

I got blisters on my fingers!

Just like Ringo, I'm excited enough to make that statment. Crew this morning some how started to gel really nicely - maybe the rest of the boat's learning how to compensate for my terrible form as the stroke. We beat Pfoho and Quincy, and we didn't crash the boat!


It has come to my attention that several people have asked me for help with this sort of thing; therefore, I hope this will aid anyone else who desires assistance:

How to Reinforce a Bed Frame

Google Search: "take apart bed"

We don't divulge any secrets around here, missies.

Exhale

At the end of a great weekend, we are victorious:


Congrats to Quasar on making regionals despite heckling from various videographers this weekend; and congrats to everyone who came with me to Brown for a tkd belt test. I guess somebody must have even thought I was doing a good job.

But I missed the 80's dance! Sad panda. But wait! It's an 80's music party in my room every night. With any luck I'll be able to attend one of them.

I don't want somebody to love me

Dear Quasar,
Good luck tomorrow! Here are some sources of inspiration, if you missed Gordon Bombay tonight, or if a Freejack just doesn't do it for you:


Sincerely,
Duct-Tape-Shorts-Dude



Also, it doesn't quite recall the predatory ear, but halfway through this song by the Wolfe Tones, the rhythm sounds eerily like a song written by a small yellow black-spotted animal who could beat Strong Sad in a fight even if his eyes were duct taped shut and Strong Sad had a spear. Anybody got my back?

The Wolfe Tones - Celtic Symphony

Too ra loo rye ay

On Monday night I finished the second-to-last paper I'll likely ever write for this school. Unfortunately, I think I forgot to include a thesis statement; I did a nice job of contrasting two messianic emissaries, but I never actually mentioned why anyone might care. Oh well; I'll just make the last paper extra good. And by good, I mean last-minute.

I think Bill still has the market on food pictures, but I'm trying hard to keep up. Tuesday's theme was dessert food, starting with cupcakes from Rosie's and ending in molten goodness at Finale. I'm forgetting to bring my camera with me, but I'm sure my excellent substitute photographers will give me material to put up soon.

No adult cupcakes here!

Will Saturday night make me feel young, or old? Or will it just make me feel ... awesome? Only time and jean jackets will tell, but in the meantime check out this Bonnie Tyler video. Don't call me a critic; it's a great song, but I think a montage from Short Circuit 2 would have been slightly more moving:

That day, for no particular reason...

Congratulations to all of today's marathon runners: respect and admiration. Maybe one day I can earn my own foil jacket (probably the biggest reason I have for wanting to run a marathon). Today I recalled the amazing story of Team Hoyt, a father-son team from MA who compete together in marathons, triathlons, and cross-country treks, all the more inspiring when you know all the details.


Coming up... if you're lost, you can look, and you will find me, livin' on a prayer, blessing the rains down in Africa, wishing that I had Jessie's girl...that's the power of love (it's a curious thing).

Hold, pretty one

You know, if this weather keeps up, I may never be able to leave Cambridge (uh-oh: did I actually say that? This guy needs an intervention ... or maybe he just "needs a kegstand!") Maybe focusing on how dreary the winters are up here will motivate. Good thing we got showers coming up later this week.


Tim: Hold, pretty one! I ...
Shizz: [to orchestra] Stop, stop, stop. Uh, Tim, you didn't actually get that right - it's [sings]. Okay? Let's try it again.
T: Hold, pretty one!
S: Um, no, what I sang was [sings]. One more time?
T: Hold, pretty one.
S: Again?
T: Hold, pretty ... one?
S: [sighs]


(thanks to Judith Scarl for being at ABP so I could run into her and let her convince me to see the show Friday night.)

The moral of Saturday night's movie: fun or non-fun, we're screwed in the end, guys. If we're lucky, we can pull off a line like "Take off your clothes" a handful of times before people realize how absurd it is. Absurd, people! Who falls for that stuff? (people who watch Disney movies, I guess)

Beanpotpourri

Used to be, all I needed to get myself motivated to get some work done at this place was a little plastic 175-gram circular object to throw around and run after (well, that and the company of four special people). But now it seems I can't get just one sport to hold my attention for very long. What will become of me, and how many creative ways can I think up to risk spraining, bruising, getting tendonitis, tearing, or pulling?...

...Or, for that matter, hucking, sculling, or kicking ass? I guess I'm not willing to give any of these up just yet.

Check out www.billkang.com for one last post on the inner workings of Bermuda, this time in food format.

Die! Live! Sex! More!

Totally wiped out, but here's a recap of the awesome weekend:

Early Friday morning, I woke up to accompany the Leverett women's crew out on the water for their first excursion, in what was also my first time in the coxswain's "seat." As you might guess, although there was indeed a seat, I didn't actually fit in that seat, so things were nice and exciting. There was probably a not-insignificant chance that I would actually fall over the edge I was straddling, since a lot of the women had never been on the water before, and I certainly had only a limited idea of what I was doing. Things turned out okay, though, thanks to a charming crew coach who helped us out of the rough patches and notified me whenever another boat was about to run us down.


With that accomplished, I capitalized on that momentum to take on a morning yoga-lates class (but no Kymber Lee this time; calling in sick, she was replaced by a few new instructors and one more mark on my pilates-instructor-crush board) and sailed through the last classes of the week. Hopping over the Boston to sub for a Kroks show at the Hampshire House upstairs from the Cheers bar, we pulled out a nice set with only eight people - two encores! As the afternoon approached, I made my way back to the Science Center and started playing ultimate with some of Quasar plus Mike Mac, but the disturbing introduction of two large lobsters and a chef into our toss heralded the rapidly approaching rain (it's kind of complicated; ask me about it some time). The winds carried me over to Central where I picked up a rental van which I would drive down to Yale later that night. A quick snack with Ben - to congratulate him on finishing his thesis - at Uno's, consisting of a "Chocolate Monkey," and 15 buffalo wings plus one I knew I'd come to regret, and I was off to Yale with some Japanese bebop and a newfound CTY F&M friend to keep me company.

Saturday morning didn't exactly get off to a great start, since I set off the house alarm and woke everyone up prematurely, but nobody beat me up because of it, which was nice. I didn't have the guts to lug my camera around that much, but lucky for me Sabrina was ready to fill the role of resident photographer. I managed to pull out a nice trophy finish in the forms, and managed to beat my higher-belt, almost certainly higher-weight, opponent in my sparring match.





Come on, cut me some slack. Sure, I may have an inch or two on him, but isn't he totally intimidating? I thought it would be like fighting a grizzly bear...















...but in the end it was more like p0wning a panda.

The quick stop at Burger King to take part in HTKD's regular "Hershey Pie Challenge" wasn't enough to fulfill my appetite, so Steve Fan accompanied me to the Kong for some eats. I even gave him one of my boneless spare ribs as a birthday present. Aren't I a great friend?



Dinner, part one. I was successful in the challenge (to put the entire pie in your mouth without chewing), but others were not quite as lucky, despite encouragements such as, "It's like reverse having a baby ... in your mouth!" by HTKD president Dan Shalev. It's too bad I ate mine before that vivid mental picture.





Duck sauce from the Kong. Sure, the picture may look artistic, but trust me - soy sauce and apple sauce can't possibly be what goes into the real stuff. Duck sauce? More like... suck sauce!




I just hope my TF's like hearing about my weekend as much as I like writing about it, because I certainly won't be commenting on Primo Levi or characteristics of good leadership this week. Wait, two of my sections were canceled! Score! This may give me some time to catch up on the Grey's Anatomy episodes I missed. I mean, catch up on work. But George is still my man.

The eyes have it

This just in: a special remote post from scenic Front Street while Tim kicks some serious butt over at Yale:

Eye'll Be in Scotland Afore Ye: It's no wonder goggles are so important in Bermuda; the eyes are everywhere.

And now, for something completely similar

It's here! As of Friday morning be sure to check out www.billkang.com for the definitive Bermuda experience. However, I couldn't resist a separate take on the feeling of the week, with a little less humor and a little more sentimentality. Until next time, I'm off to wear my yellow belt with pride - wish me luck!


Cambridge To West Cliffe and Back Again

You'd think that after three years and the worst hurricane in 50 years, a tiny little island off the coast of the Carolinas would have to have experienced some changes. I'm sure it has, but the only differences I could notice in my week-long getaway to Bermuda were that the Oleander bikes were better, the funny pedestrian sign on the way to Mid-Ocean was gone, and the parrot at Coral Beach was no longer around to get us in trouble. Of course, as a tourist, there's no way for me to pick up anything but superficial changes like these, but stepping off the plane into that familiar Bermuda weather (partly cloudy with a chance of gorgeous), it seemed like the essential nature of what defines Bermuda for the Kroks - the beautiful scenery, the amazing food, and the gracious hosts and friends - was as constant as ever.