0305.12
23:32:28
pr0m (and WEEKEND UPDATE)
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So. Samstag was an interesting day, I think. I woke up that morning and went to IMS with dad. He had gotten tickets from one of his old Dell coworkers who now races vintage F1 cars; he and his wife, who is also a racer, went with us as well. We had tickets to one of the skyboxes, which was awesome, but spent most of our time in the restricted-access pit area, which was also awesome, seeing as I stood close by, and even met one or two of the most famous faces in racing, or something else equally jingoistic. We were also quite close to the pit entrance from the track when driver Billy Boat lost control of his car and plowed it backwards at 200 odd miles per hour into the outer pit wall. Of course, he hit a massive hunk of protective styrofoam, which made this incredible ‘POOM’ noise, much more enjoyable in many ways than the crunching sound of steel against concrete that he would have made 20 years ago. He was fine, of course. But once they had finally cleared all the styrofoam bits off the track, a big storm front pulled in, so we stayed in the skybox until practice was cancelled.
When we got home, I figured that the rain hadn’t been too bad, because Irishman’s Run (the body of water, not the subdivision) was up to its banks, but wasn’t flooding. However, when I looked out a few hours later, the entire flood plain was under water. The fools down at Eagle Creek Resevoir apperently don’t understand that the purpose of floodgates is for the prevention and control of floods, not the creation thereof. (Upon my mentioning of this in calculus, Ian remarked that this was the reason why the people that work there do in fact work there and not as doctors, which is definately a true statement.) It eventually cut off Ford Road at 96th street, so I spent a little bit of the afternoon scouting routes out from my house that didn’t have any earmarks of being able to flood, and decided Cooper Road was the best way to get out.
Speaking of this flood crap, I find it quite humorous that the County decided to put up roadblocks on our road at its first East and West intersections saying that it was closed. W 96th St. / East 800 South / Whatever was in fact completely clear. What did actually flood (past the point of passability, even) was the low point on Ford Road just north of the Eagle Creek bridge, where they had simply put small standup signs that said “high water”. They also saw fit to decorate the largest, deepest pothole ever (which just happens to be on my street) with a nice orange road cone instead of, say, patching it. Geat job, guys, Boone or Marion or both.
Prom was actually quite nice. It was at a supermarket-turned-convention-center-thing in Carmel, which was very well put together, outside of the fact that the front still, you know, looked like a Marsh. As the amount of text regarding prom would make this bloggage horrendously enormous, I’m throwing it in the extended entry so that the main page isn’t disgutingly distended by all the text. On Mother’s Day I got up and went to church, which I didn’t think I was going to do. I got there unsurpisingly late, and saw Andrea in the foyer, but due to the position in the service order (we got there during communion, or a prayer, or something or other) unfortuately didn’t actually say anything to her. On a side note, if she lets her hair grow any longer, it’s going to get to Eve-length, which would be, uh, interesting. Speaking of college people, everybody else was back, too, and I talked to them for a while after church. The fam and I were Yen Chinggin’ it for lunch, and then we went back to the track for a pretty uneventful afternoon. That’s about it, I think. pr0m So, at about eightish, I got dressed up and drove the 740iL out to the school, and picked up Nazz and Jay. You see, we were going to this thing called ‘prom’.
I think everybody had a good time. On the way over, we listened to some Pavarotti off mySony Cli鼯s> Palm Pirate, which was pretty good for micro jack to tape transfer. The route was Hal Sharpe – Bloor – Ford – 334 – Cooper – 800S – Moore – 86th – (Shell Station) – 465 – Keystone – 86th – Westfield / Rangeline – Carmel Drive. If you plot this a map, this is pretty convoluted, but I was doing my best to not have to get anywhere near any possibility of flooding in the Zionsville area, and wanted to use as large of road as possible everywhere else, as I didn’t want to be doing signifcant maneuvering with the BMW.
Us three met up with Seamus as well as Doggimus Maximus and his motley band of Limo Riders when we got there, and partied until the fire alarm went off at 2345 due to a lightning strike. Although the DJ had quite a nice setup and all, he mainly played that silly, inbetweenish brand of Hip-Hop that isn’t rap, nor is it mainstream pop garbage. Lalo and I agreed it was most inferior to what could have been played. Speaking of Rap and Lalo, although I didn’t get a picture of him, he was dressed up like Pharrell in the second scene of the Pass the Courvoisier part II music video, which was pretty awesome. I shouted rap lyrics from time to time on songs I actually knew, which fit and all, seeing how I was straight thugggin’, as it were, in the clothing department.
So, I took some pictures with the old Nikon Coolpix 950, which has an optical sight, which means I like it. You can find them over there in the pics section.
Although the prom itself was enjoyable, there wasn’t anything particularly worthwhile of relating here, but I will do some storytelling anyhow. Or not– coming back to this after a few hours makes me realize what I had begun to write was exceedingly similar to the fevered banter of a middle-school-aged girl, so I’ll excuse the reader from it.
But, uh, everyone I talked to was pretty enthused about my blingage, it seemed. This is quite good, as I figured it’d either be viewed as most excellent or most idiotic. However, P. Schmiddy was the only one to say anything in particular (positive, even) about my tie, which I think is almost as cool as the chains, but, you know. The fire alarm thing cut the ending short, which was just fine as far as I was concerned, it felt as if the thing was already at a lull in the first place. I’ve overheaard some gripes about the lack of a ‘last dance’, but, uh, you know, that’s not something about which I would care XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD So, we got out and it appeared it was raining heavily, although it really wasn’t. I feel like I’ve written about the trip to afterprom as well as afterprom proper, but, I can’t find it, so suffer again. So, I enforced the rap listening rule on the way to afterprom, which was a much shorter drive as I stayed North. Nazz says he doesn’t understand rap, but I don’t seed that there’s that much to undertsand about it– it isn’t some magnificent audiorty work like Mozart or the Beatles or something, just something with a decent beat and mainly truthful, although somewhat clich鬠lyrics. It’s a sight better than Avpgbfrille Lavigngneigh or whatever. After dropping them two off at the school (where the afterprom was) I cruised around Zionsville for a few with the windows down and the sunroof open, bumpin’ to the phat beats of Bigge Smalls. And then, I went back to school, because got bored.
Whoever was in charge of the afterprom did a fine job. I mean, seriously, it was very, very well put together. However, it was far too complicated for me, for example, to play poker or blackjack or ansewer random trivia questions at 0130– that is to say, this would have been great at about 2030 or 2100 or something, not that it would have made any sense to have it at that time. So, I left for home about twoish, and didn’t recieve any kind of prizes… although I did have a good helping of mini-eclaires. MMM LIGHTNING TASTY.
When we got home, I figured that the rain hadn’t been too bad, because Irishman’s Run (the body of water, not the subdivision) was up to its banks, but wasn’t flooding. However, when I looked out a few hours later, the entire flood plain was under water. The fools down at Eagle Creek Resevoir apperently don’t understand that the purpose of floodgates is for the prevention and control of floods, not the creation thereof. (Upon my mentioning of this in calculus, Ian remarked that this was the reason why the people that work there do in fact work there and not as doctors, which is definately a true statement.) It eventually cut off Ford Road at 96th street, so I spent a little bit of the afternoon scouting routes out from my house that didn’t have any earmarks of being able to flood, and decided Cooper Road was the best way to get out.
Speaking of this flood crap, I find it quite humorous that the County decided to put up roadblocks on our road at its first East and West intersections saying that it was closed. W 96th St. / East 800 South / Whatever was in fact completely clear. What did actually flood (past the point of passability, even) was the low point on Ford Road just north of the Eagle Creek bridge, where they had simply put small standup signs that said “high water”. They also saw fit to decorate the largest, deepest pothole ever (which just happens to be on my street) with a nice orange road cone instead of, say, patching it. Geat job, guys, Boone or Marion or both.
Prom was actually quite nice. It was at a supermarket-turned-convention-center-thing in Carmel, which was very well put together, outside of the fact that the front still, you know, looked like a Marsh. As the amount of text regarding prom would make this bloggage horrendously enormous, I’m throwing it in the extended entry so that the main page isn’t disgutingly distended by all the text. On Mother’s Day I got up and went to church, which I didn’t think I was going to do. I got there unsurpisingly late, and saw Andrea in the foyer, but due to the position in the service order (we got there during communion, or a prayer, or something or other) unfortuately didn’t actually say anything to her. On a side note, if she lets her hair grow any longer, it’s going to get to Eve-length, which would be, uh, interesting. Speaking of college people, everybody else was back, too, and I talked to them for a while after church. The fam and I were Yen Chinggin’ it for lunch, and then we went back to the track for a pretty uneventful afternoon. That’s about it, I think. pr0m So, at about eightish, I got dressed up and drove the 740iL out to the school, and picked up Nazz and Jay. You see, we were going to this thing called ‘prom’.
I think everybody had a good time. On the way over, we listened to some Pavarotti off my
Us three met up with Seamus as well as Doggimus Maximus and his motley band of Limo Riders when we got there, and partied until the fire alarm went off at 2345 due to a lightning strike. Although the DJ had quite a nice setup and all, he mainly played that silly, inbetweenish brand of Hip-Hop that isn’t rap, nor is it mainstream pop garbage. Lalo and I agreed it was most inferior to what could have been played. Speaking of Rap and Lalo, although I didn’t get a picture of him, he was dressed up like Pharrell in the second scene of the Pass the Courvoisier part II music video, which was pretty awesome. I shouted rap lyrics from time to time on songs I actually knew, which fit and all, seeing how I was straight thugggin’, as it were, in the clothing department.
So, I took some pictures with the old Nikon Coolpix 950, which has an optical sight, which means I like it. You can find them over there in the pics section.
Although the prom itself was enjoyable, there wasn’t anything particularly worthwhile of relating here, but I will do some storytelling anyhow. Or not– coming back to this after a few hours makes me realize what I had begun to write was exceedingly similar to the fevered banter of a middle-school-aged girl, so I’ll excuse the reader from it.
But, uh, everyone I talked to was pretty enthused about my blingage, it seemed. This is quite good, as I figured it’d either be viewed as most excellent or most idiotic. However, P. Schmiddy was the only one to say anything in particular (positive, even) about my tie, which I think is almost as cool as the chains, but, you know. The fire alarm thing cut the ending short, which was just fine as far as I was concerned, it felt as if the thing was already at a lull in the first place. I’ve overheaard some gripes about the lack of a ‘last dance’, but, uh, you know, that’s not something about which I would care XD XD XD XD XD XD XD XD So, we got out and it appeared it was raining heavily, although it really wasn’t. I feel like I’ve written about the trip to afterprom as well as afterprom proper, but, I can’t find it, so suffer again. So, I enforced the rap listening rule on the way to afterprom, which was a much shorter drive as I stayed North. Nazz says he doesn’t understand rap, but I don’t seed that there’s that much to undertsand about it– it isn’t some magnificent audiorty work like Mozart or the Beatles or something, just something with a decent beat and mainly truthful, although somewhat clich鬠lyrics. It’s a sight better than Avpgbfrille Lavigngneigh or whatever. After dropping them two off at the school (where the afterprom was) I cruised around Zionsville for a few with the windows down and the sunroof open, bumpin’ to the phat beats of Bigge Smalls. And then, I went back to school, because got bored.
Whoever was in charge of the afterprom did a fine job. I mean, seriously, it was very, very well put together. However, it was far too complicated for me, for example, to play poker or blackjack or ansewer random trivia questions at 0130– that is to say, this would have been great at about 2030 or 2100 or something, not that it would have made any sense to have it at that time. So, I left for home about twoish, and didn’t recieve any kind of prizes… although I did have a good helping of mini-eclaires. MMM LIGHTNING TASTY.
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