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Feb. 4th, 2005 | 07:09 am
mood: me, me, me. oh, and you

Leave a comment with a memory of me.
Good, bad, funny, embarrassing, the more the merrier.

Then post this in your journal and see what people remember about you.

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Comments {39}

Chef Monkey

(no subject)

from: chefmonkey
date: Feb. 4th, 2005 06:04 pm (UTC)

Jesus. Where to start.

There were all the late nights building furniture out of Omagles, setting up all kinds of Commodore equipment on them, and hacking away until we fell asleep. In fact, we built in crash bars to keep our heads off the keyboard in case we just fell asleep sitting there (which did happen from time to time).

I remember an incident in Lousiana when we had several computers set up a pop-up camper, and -- unable to convince you to turn the lights off -- I reached down and threw the breakers and had a table of computer equipment dumped on me. ;)

I recall extremely long phone conversations. I remember a "Catalina Madaline Hooten Totten Wotten Totten Hogan Pogan Logan" song incident in which we both collapsed into helpless tears of laughter for several minutes.

I remember a complete non-sequitur in a conversation we had in which I, for no good reason, wished you a happy birthday -- to which you responded, "It's not my birthday." And, spontaneously, we burst into song: "It's not todaaaaaaay! It's not my birthday, so why do you lunge out at me?..." and we proceeded to finish the entire song.

I remember a TMBG concert in Houston that you were supposed to drive down for, but it got later and later... lacking contact from you, I was about to go inside (with your ticket), when you come bounding out of a cab. I asked, "How did you get here?" Your only response was to reach inside your jacket, grab a small packet marked, "Southwest Airlines," hold them out, and offer, "Peanuts?"

Then, there was that time at the Catholic Youth Conference when we were milling around in the lobby with several hundred other teenagers. A voice calls out from the crowd: "Does anyone have a scredriver?" Without missing a beat, you reach down, grab four from your knee-pocket, hold them up in the air, and shout back, "which kind?"

I recall the time when I promised I would get you to call Tami, despite my not being there. She bet me I couldn't. I replaced nethack with a program that would bring up "Call Tami" in screen-filling letters. She got the call. I won a case of Spam in that bet.

I remember a long arguement down in Galveston when we were playing Scrabble, and I insisted that "Chugs" is not a word. I recall playing Scrabble and posting the results to alt.religion.kibology. Several times. I recall playing Scrabble and clearing my hand twice during a single game -- which would have been a truly impressive accomplishment, had you not done the same thing three times.

Many more, but I have work to do, have forgotten my power supply at home, and am running out of batteries.

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