Of strange donuts

I am not going to go into huge detail about the story of this post because it has allready been blogged elsewhere better then I ever could have (or because I am a lazy butt).

First, click the link above to hear the tail of the now infamous HRMHS (Horse-raddish mustard hot sauce) bostom creme donut. Its the first half of the post. Then, come back and see the pictures here.


Here is the donut being moddeled by the ever photgenic JackLu. Nice smile, Jack.


Now we have the intial reactions. I will confess that I am severely dissapointed with the control that my victim was able to demonstrate under such sensatorial assault- it was good form for her, but bad luck for me:
She saw it coming to many seconds in advance. It allowed her to give me a poker face before washing down the OJ to clear her sinuses, and thus, this picture is lackluster. Way to be K, way to be. You've ruined my blog. Just kidding.

Here is a picture of her moddeling the donut later. I think her face with in this picture actually depicts the sensation of HRMHS donut more accuratly then the first:


Next well- next was actually JackLu. He was even less fun then K- he just kept eating it and asked me in an incredulous tone "What? Like you don't put mustard in all your donuts?".

But probably the best reaction that I was able to catch on camera was my friend, damarque. Basically, I verbally bullied him into it, saying if he could take Basic Training he should be able to take a Horse-raddish Hot Sauce Donut. He complied.

Damarque never actually swallowed it. He took a big bite, then sort of worked his way to the nearest trash recepticle and discarded the offending pastry from his mouth. Someone mentioned to me that this was a huge accomplishment. "You actually found something he won't eat. Dude," the source said on Tuesday, "this kid will eat chalk." This made me feel proud, in a strange nonsensical sort of way.

The last was B. She told us we woulnd't get a reaction out of her. You be the judge:
The prank... overall, it was good- but I am humbly realizing that I need more experience on the delivery. Perhaps staying up till 4 does something to ones reasoning or acting ability though...

You see, the night previous I stayed up till 4 in the morning working on an economics report (which is the pWnZ!!!11!! by the way). I was dead tired, but I was giddy enough not to let it stop me from what I was about to do: a sweet comeback was in the air and I could taste it. It was hot and tangy and kind of stung my eyes.

I retrieved the practice donut my picked up for me from its clever hiding place in the downstairs fridge and ran up to the kitchen with it. I whipped out a plate, some "Chilly Today, Hot Tamali" sauce and some bratworst horsraddish beer mustard. I gleefully found and prepped my tools and began pioneering the extraction methods. When I decided I had finally got enough of the goop out, I started filling the donut in with the speacial sauce. I then pasted the side with some of the extracted creme so that no casual observer would be any the wiser.

Now for the hard part: I had to taste it to make sure the boston creme that was still in the donut didn't neutralize the new sauce. I sort of hesitated for awhile. Then I took a bite out of the side that hadn't been to much affected. Finally, I took a bite from the damage zone. My mouth started screaming at me- I think it was swearing and saying something to the effect of "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?". I ran over to the sink and spit it out. I had milk on hand to wash out my mouth- I used it. After about three rinse cycles, I looked down on the half bitten bite and started laughing. I looked down on what I made, and behold, it was very bad. And on the 5th hour, I rested.

----
Yes, I know... promotion night is not mentioned up there. I think this post is long enough, and I am tired. To everyone, just in case I don't get around to making a farewell-everyone post: Dude, your all stinking awesome. I got mad love for all of you- Agape has made my year. I totally wish I met you all earlier, even though now with most of you it seems we've been friends our whole life. Remember when ? Such good times man! Can't wait till next year,

----Signature

Life as illustrated by the many faces of Zeke

Greetings to all! To the one (or possibly two; depending on which way the sanity check goes) of you who actually care: Sorry about not getting a new post up. I know, horrendous. My last one I had a good excuse for; I was trying to be somewhat formal and post a specific topic. I don’t know what excuse I’ll use for this one. Can I call in sick to blogging?

one more apology to get out of the way before I get started. To all of you who have lame connections (I think that’s just you Anders) I apologize for this post’s perfuse employment of images. I like images- they make things so much easier- but sorry about the whole waiting thing. But you’ll get over it I’m sure.

You see, life often seems like a kaleidoscope- hundreds of different images and events happening just barely far apart enough from each other to appreciate them. This is, after all, why we like art- movies, books, songs- because we like to capture and savor these moments. And it is with that in mind that I present “My life in the past few weeks, as told by a crappy montage of images thrown together painstakingly in mspaint” as a discussion springboard:

The picture of me with the tux in the center is myself as Henry Higgins. The one on the bottom left is probably the only non-frightening off stage picture of me with makeup. These of course, represent the now seemingly small blip of time that was the play production of Pygmalion at my home school co-op. Two small pictures- but behind them so much- I know not even where to start. This play has been (though so much work) SOOO much fun. I think this production has been the one I have enjoyed the most- and I say that feeling slightly guilty, since everyone else I’ve worked with before has been awesome as well. But honestly, everything about this play was great. I got to play British jerk- this is much more accessible, I think, then any of my other big roles (Aslan and Prospero). I could draw from more common, ordinary things and I could take them further. I was really able to slip into the role. The other ones I’ve played were good and I enjoyed them, but this one gave me so much liberty to mess around, because I wasn’t as- insecure?- about who the character was. I rarely second guessed myself as the character while onstage. Not that I was overly confident; it still had its moments of difficulty and anxiousness but… I guess, for whatever reason, I was able to believe myself as the character more so then I ever have in a play. The script has a lot to do with it, but I think that another part is probably the great acting stuff I’ve done with my awesome drama teacher…I’ve taken an acting exercise class this semester from her and a play writing class from her last semester, and I see so (and appreciate) so much more in a production now. And speaking of this production…

It wasn’t just the source material and MY experience that was so wonderful for me, it was EVERYONE involved in the play. I am doing a mental double-check right now to be sure, but- yes, I can accurately say that EVERYONE who was involved in this play made it a better experience. I cannot think of a single person that contributed negatively or did not contribute at all. This all starts of course with the amazing director- Mrs. M. She is right in between the last of my directors extremes- laid back and aggressive. Again, I almost feel bad saying this because I loved both of my directors and think they did a marvelous job- but the fact remains that I am awed by how this director was personable and calm through everything, yet could still exert authority or give criticism. She gave us A LOT of space to come up with our own interpretations and ways of delivering lines, so much so at first that it frustrated me a bit. She only made real changes to my deliveries twice. But those times- wow. It is amazing how these little tweaks can change the emotion onstage.

Paragraph six, and I’m still talking about Pygmalion. Oh dear, this is going to be a long post. But so be it, because this experience was that great. It was a book-post-in-your-blog great. It doesn’t stop at the director: all the behind the scenes people were amazing. I’ve never seen a support staff like this. Makeup, sets, props, clothes- all were handled so well. Behind the scenes people really are the unsung stars of the play- they make or break a production of this scale. And in this case, they made it. But the best part of this production, which spans over every memory I have of it, is by far the people. I have become friends with people I did not know well before, and I have become closer to those on the crew and cast that I did know. I didn’t know the actor that played opposite me as Pickering at all until we started the play and now we joke around with each other all the time. I got to know and laugh with the people who (often against my will) applied my makeup. They are all awesome. I knew most of the people on the set crew, but I got to know and respect them more during the play. I am so pleased with the production, not only because all did such a good job in their part, but because all of them were such awesome people.

This actually, brings me to the top left picture… me, with cake all over my face and silly string a’ plenty draped about my person. You see, I am SO loved that certain people took it upon themselves to prank me. I don’t believe I have really been seriously pranked like I was that night ever before in my life. I got to experience what it felt like to have cake smashed into your face, which was good and ended a life long curiosity I held. I got an excuse to put cake in various girls face, which was even better and satisfied an immaturity that I have had to suppress for a very long time. Then I got dragged outside, mobster style, and was assaulted with silly string. This was all fun and good, but I am still hitting myself for such a wasted opportunity. You see, I got wind of a prank involving silly string, and last minute I was able to get a supplier to give me a partially used can for my self defense. I hid it cleverly in my jacket pocket, and when they pulled the caps off to open fire, I drew mine as well. Unfortunately, in the darkness and confusion of that fateful night, I failed to properly make out which end of the nozzle the silly string would actually spray out of. And as such, what was supposed to be my valiant last stand was totally batched and actually aided the enemy I was trying so hard to regain my dignity from. Overall- it was AWESOME. Thank you everyone who was involved in that prank and in the play. I have some great memories I will tell for years to come.

Now we get to top right and bottom right images. These represent a past time I have become increasingly involved in- paintballing. I have a new friend I met a few months ago who is extremely into paintballing, and has got me active in it after several years of owning a gun but rarely if ever, using it. As you can see by the top right picture, I got pWnd pretty hard. Direct hit to the eye and mouth vent. The bottom shows how I actually got to taste the paint, since the ball exploded through the vent holes. By the way, it wasn’t that good- though it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be though. The paint had a rather strong tang to it that somewhat disagreed with me.

I’ve played paintball I think 2 weeks in a row now- and one of them was a several hour cookout/shootout. That was a lot of fun- even though I was the first to get cut down almost EVERY game. I blame the gun and me being a n00b. But it doesn’t matter; the game is a lot of fun. Hard, painful fun, but fun nonetheless. I have several happy welts all over me now thanks to my little binge of sporting, and I am proud of them.

The other pictures get more and more vauge as I was trying to fill spaces in the montage, but I’ll give them meaning anyway. The in the middle right of me on the computer, represents me on the computer. Its something I do a lot- I think I live a good deal of my life the through the avenue of cyberspace. Its my social hub when not at my co-op or church, its my source of information, of entertainment, and the sole recipient of the meager bit of organizational skills I have. Almost all of my creative outlets pass through the computer at one time or another- either blogging, or writing something for school or listening to music. So I suppose this image does show an important picture in my kaliscope of time.

The others- are me with hair. I suppose this isn’t directly related to the last few weeks, but I am going to tie it in anyway. You see, I have had a fro and it looked cool. I have had wanna-be dreads, and they did not look that cool. I have had a beard for awhile, and in my humble opinion, that looked cool. I now have no beard and I believe I am not alone in thinking that I made a drastic mistake. One that re-growth will solve, but a mistake nonetheless. But wait, you say- why the picture of the fro and not the picture of the beardless man? Because

a) I don’t have any pictures of me with out a beard and

b) That is as it should be and will likely remain so.

And that, my friends, concludes this broadcast. It was a long one, I know. I'd say I'm sorry, but that would imply the notion that I will try to change my habbits and in the future will post small episodes. This will probably happen again, I shoudn't wonder. Sorry bout that. Oh wait... dang it. And finally, since I like to be unconventional, and also to make you all slightly annoyed, I will end this post with a whimper instead of a bang.

Second poest contains the moest woeds.

Yes, I know. It’s been a bloody while. I should have known that I set myself up for a fall when I committed to do a two part post. Stupid eewah.

I know nobody really cares, but I feel as though I should explain my delinquency. On the one hand, I wrote this towards the tail end of vacation, when I knew my window of free blogging time would be closing. Stupid Eewah. On the other hand, I decided to say that my next post would also be poetic in nature. Stupid Eewah. I hadn’t gotten the time and inspiration to finish this post until just now, but I HAVE had several other ideas for posts that I set myself up not to develop. What where they you ask? I don’t…remember. Because I didn’t make them. But I bet they were genius and would have improved the world. Oops, sorry.

So…now to the meat of the post. I suppose that last bit was the gravy… I am stepping out of the serious for a second and introducing you to

Gregory K, from gottabook.blogspot.com

This man I recently found by watching a vidcast that mentioned a new form of poetry he invented: The Fib. More on that in a second- first allow me show you some of his other material:

HOLD MY BREATH

On Monday at the swimming pool,
I acted like a total fool.
“Hold my breath? No way!” I cried.
Then little Joe came to my side.
“I’ll hold it for you,” Joe did say.
So I gave him my breath... and he ran away!
Now I can’t speak or sneeze or cough.
I can’t blow the fluff of a dandelion off.
I can’t call Mom or Dad or you.
There’s really nothing I can do.
So if you see Joe somewhere, somehow
Tell him I want my breath back NOW.

I think this piece is one of my favorites. I was going to do another one of these little funny ones, but I think in the interest of brevity (ha! Riiight…) I will move on. You can get more at his web site.

Like I mentioned earlier, he also has invented a new form of structured poetry called the “Fib”. Fib is short for Fibonacci, a simple mathmatical sequence in which the pattern consists of the last two numbers combined. A fib applies this to how many syllables each line has- clever, eh? So the pacing goes like so: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, etc. They are a lot of fun and he suggests that they are good for warm ups for getting yourself in the ability to rhyme and match rhythm in your poems. From what I can tell, it seems it really does work. But enough of my jibber jabber- lets here some by him:

One
Small,
Precise,
Poetic,
Spiraling mixture:
Math plus poetry yields the Fib.
---
Ants
Can’t
Wear pants
When they dance.
Plus I’ve heard the news
They never put on dancing shoes.

There a lot of fun- and now you know what I was doing 2 posts ago! As you can see, Greg K. has only takes his to 8 syllable lines. I think I went to 20 something- of course, my friend GreenDragonRider had to not only 1 up me, but out do me by about 30 syllables. Her amazing achievement in literacy can be viewed here.

I’ve thought about this and my imagination was sparked- the flame caught a small flash fire of paper and I came up with a whole bunch of different schemes for poetry: Mirrored Fibs, backwards fibs (other people have also thought of this though), and Pi poems (poems written in 3, 1, 4, etc.) The flames quickly died down however, though they did not go out until after I had produced this ‘mirror fib’.

Math,
Art-
The two join
To create beauty
The syllable count ticks to eight
Then hangs gracefully in mid air
Falling once more down
It dissolves
And fades-
Art,
Math.

For some reason the balance really makes it cool for me.

Ok, now back to the serious…
Previously on uttereast.blogspot.com I asked my readers to give their interpretation of a song. Well some people at least said they tried, but I'm still waiting, lol. So here my humble interpertation of the song BLEED SEASON. I believe this song is all about a man who becomes a believer and is experiencing the struggle of maintaining a holy life…In my oppinion, if you read the whole song it follows a man from becoming a christian to dealing with the fact that there are still life issues to be dealt with even when Christ is with you. The title Bleed Season is about the times of peril or struggle in our lives-

“Is this my time to feel? Is this my time to breathe? Is this my time to bleed? Change the season”

For is not their coming as sure as the changing of the seasons?

Here is my interpretations for the verses I posted earlier:

Trace the tree and the veil will flee me <--Think of a crime scene- when someone dies, they trace the position in chalk. The tree obviously here is the cross. The veil- the infamous veil in the temple that separated the holy from the holy of holies- and symbolically, us from God.
And now I see with salty eyes <--Seeing through his tears
Consistent tragedy persisting in me
This disability's my soul's demise
Deaf to self and mute to mind
Muddled wallowing nebulous blind <--Something’s still wrong in him…

My crippled confidence is chafed away <--Its getting to him
With the answers I'm pulled astray <--He now knows what is wrong and right-
The habits laced embrace me <--Yet his old patterns are not broken
With a cold, chaotic flinch
Kiss of old deaths erase me <--Love this line… the things he thought he had killed are coming back to him…
Soft, subtle, inch by inch <--Baabbby steps…. But very EVIL baby steps, lol.

Awesomeness…. You gotta hear it. It rocks really hard.

OK.. moving on number B... Though not officially a ‘poet’, while we are on the topic of hard bands with amazing lyrisicsts, I think I should mention Bean Bag.

Bean Bag
By the time they had gotten to only their second studio released album, Bean Bag had obtained a polish and artistic maturity that is not seen in many other bands in their entire career. Their last album, Well Adjusted was a masterpiece. Unfortunately, just as they were hitting their artistic stride they were not hitting their business stride. They dissolved the band and, as sure as I know, all went to get ‘real jobs’. Check out the lyrics to the song These Stains off of their last album:

I am shame, can I enter?
I hold your name on my placenta
it has fame to see adventure
call its name to find dementure

oh, why did I leave you? I am
here but shame told me
'always' and it is soldering out these stains

sold my peace for anarchy
it took me to the sea
holding all I have to be
I shook the rug out so delicately

oh, why did I leave you? I am
here but shame told me
'always' and it is soldering out these stains

if I had just listened to you
if I had just focused in on you

oh, why did I leave you? I am
here but shame told me
'always' and it is soldering out these stains

oh, these stains

Hahaha, tell me what THAT one means… its probably even harder then the last one. I didn’t get it until I was depressed enough. Then it sort of snapped into place, and that made me happy and I haven’t solved any Bean Bag songs since then. What do you folks say?