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male
student architect
melbourne shanghai new york
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male
http://b3ta.com/search/posts/69107/best
Recent non-frontpage messages:
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look at all the millions of people who have visited my profile!
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» Workplace Boredom
Hmm, I've worked from home lately
Sometimes I lie down on my bed and throw a small ball in the air, straight up above my head. Then I catch it, and again I will throw it up. I will often try to throw the ball as close to the ceiling as possible without it touching.
This will continue until which time I fail to catch it. If I indeed fail to catch it and it lands next to me, I will simply pick it up and continue to throw, however in the event that I miss it, and it falls down the side of the bed, I will usually roll over and attempt to reach for it before continuing the game. Otherwise I will roll over on to my front and lie there until I need to go to the toilet.
(Fri 9th Jan 2009, 14:05, More)
Hmm, I've worked from home lately
Sometimes I lie down on my bed and throw a small ball in the air, straight up above my head. Then I catch it, and again I will throw it up. I will often try to throw the ball as close to the ceiling as possible without it touching.
This will continue until which time I fail to catch it. If I indeed fail to catch it and it lands next to me, I will simply pick it up and continue to throw, however in the event that I miss it, and it falls down the side of the bed, I will usually roll over and attempt to reach for it before continuing the game. Otherwise I will roll over on to my front and lie there until I need to go to the toilet.
(Fri 9th Jan 2009, 14:05, More)
» Babysitters
we had, what they call in the music business, a 'family' of sitars
a large sitar which as a child i called 'daddy sitar', a smaller one which in the same spirit I named 'mummy sitar' and a really small novelty sitar which we all would affectionately call 'child sitar'. Unfortunately my babysitter accidently sat on it and it broke. =/
(Fri 29th Oct 2010, 4:55, More)
we had, what they call in the music business, a 'family' of sitars
a large sitar which as a child i called 'daddy sitar', a smaller one which in the same spirit I named 'mummy sitar' and a really small novelty sitar which we all would affectionately call 'child sitar'. Unfortunately my babysitter accidently sat on it and it broke. =/
(Fri 29th Oct 2010, 4:55, More)
» Bad Management
still not the stupidist manager Ive had
For a couple of years during the Uni's summer holidays I would often take it upon myself to work in menial jobs to stay in touch with the common people and earn abit of extra cash on the way.
One of these jobs was at a chicken murder factory where my job description was to delve my bare hands as deep into the barely dead chickens as possible and rip out the innards as they swung past me on conveyor hooks. Needless to say this job was unpleasant at the best of times, even without the help of the gutting department’s socially inept and at times maniacal manager.
As anyone who has worked at an abattoir would tell you, it’s one of few jobs in which a seven year jail term for arson is seen as evidence of the conviction and responsibility necessary to make one worthy of promotion.
Clearly his sentence did little for his mental health as we would often see him hitting some of the older employees over the head with chickens. I cannot describe the fear of expecting dead bloodied poultry hit you in the back of the head at any moment. It was never provoked and usually done in the spirit of good fun.
This however, was nothing compared to ‘trick’ he would play on the new employees (of which there was a regular turn-around). If while working you felt a slippery coldness on the back of your neck, expect to find Mr Manager behind you with a chicken liver hanging from his mouth. Quite why he felt the need to put an entire bunch of chicken guts in his mouth, sort them around until the liver slithers out like a tongue, and use it to lick the employees is beyond me.
(Fri 11th Jun 2010, 6:30, More)
still not the stupidist manager Ive had
For a couple of years during the Uni's summer holidays I would often take it upon myself to work in menial jobs to stay in touch with the common people and earn abit of extra cash on the way.
One of these jobs was at a chicken murder factory where my job description was to delve my bare hands as deep into the barely dead chickens as possible and rip out the innards as they swung past me on conveyor hooks. Needless to say this job was unpleasant at the best of times, even without the help of the gutting department’s socially inept and at times maniacal manager.
As anyone who has worked at an abattoir would tell you, it’s one of few jobs in which a seven year jail term for arson is seen as evidence of the conviction and responsibility necessary to make one worthy of promotion.
Clearly his sentence did little for his mental health as we would often see him hitting some of the older employees over the head with chickens. I cannot describe the fear of expecting dead bloodied poultry hit you in the back of the head at any moment. It was never provoked and usually done in the spirit of good fun.
This however, was nothing compared to ‘trick’ he would play on the new employees (of which there was a regular turn-around). If while working you felt a slippery coldness on the back of your neck, expect to find Mr Manager behind you with a chicken liver hanging from his mouth. Quite why he felt the need to put an entire bunch of chicken guts in his mouth, sort them around until the liver slithers out like a tongue, and use it to lick the employees is beyond me.
(Fri 11th Jun 2010, 6:30, More)
» I'm glad nobody saw me
I couldn’t have been any older than 6 or 7
when I was taken along to the park with my mother to watch an outdoor performance of Wind in the Willows. Staged by a theatre company for children, it involved a high level of audience participation, moving from one section of the park to another as the costumed performers encouraged the pack of enthusiastic children to run along with them, searching for Badger etc, while the parents followed quietly behind.
It was at the moment in the story when our heroes were attacking the weasel stronghold that the limits of audience participation seemed clear to all but me. Sitting on the grass at the very front of the audience, and by this time fully engrossed with the proceedings, the yells of attack from Badger and the gang prompted me to jump up and wildly fire punches at the nearest weasel actor. It was only 4 or 5 seconds of this before I realized all the other children were still seated and quietly watching the show. I swiftly and subtly returned to my position seated at the front of the audience, red-faced, but with the strange feeling that no one in the audience of 40 or so parents and children appeared to notice.
Somehow, the uncertainty of that has tormented me for years since.
(Sat 29th Jan 2011, 10:13, More)
I couldn’t have been any older than 6 or 7
when I was taken along to the park with my mother to watch an outdoor performance of Wind in the Willows. Staged by a theatre company for children, it involved a high level of audience participation, moving from one section of the park to another as the costumed performers encouraged the pack of enthusiastic children to run along with them, searching for Badger etc, while the parents followed quietly behind.
It was at the moment in the story when our heroes were attacking the weasel stronghold that the limits of audience participation seemed clear to all but me. Sitting on the grass at the very front of the audience, and by this time fully engrossed with the proceedings, the yells of attack from Badger and the gang prompted me to jump up and wildly fire punches at the nearest weasel actor. It was only 4 or 5 seconds of this before I realized all the other children were still seated and quietly watching the show. I swiftly and subtly returned to my position seated at the front of the audience, red-faced, but with the strange feeling that no one in the audience of 40 or so parents and children appeared to notice.
Somehow, the uncertainty of that has tormented me for years since.
(Sat 29th Jan 2011, 10:13, More)
» Ignorance
I once overhead some spack-tard on the subway tell his friend that an antisymmetric wavefunction for two particles is necessarily the di fference of products of one-body wavefunctions.
The moron had no idea that even though one can construct a basis of such states, an arbitrary state will be a linear combination of such basis states. If the particles interact, then even the energy eigenstates will not (in general) be in the "difference of products" form.
(Wed 5th Sep 2012, 1:03, More)
I once overhead some spack-tard on the subway tell his friend that an antisymmetric wavefunction for two particles is necessarily the di fference of products of one-body wavefunctions.
The moron had no idea that even though one can construct a basis of such states, an arbitrary state will be a linear combination of such basis states. If the particles interact, then even the energy eigenstates will not (in general) be in the "difference of products" form.
(Wed 5th Sep 2012, 1:03, More)