I keep getting motivated to draw scenes from SModcast. Perhaps it's because they're quick, fun, and Kevin Smith and company seem to enjoy them. Anyway, you can see this one with the audio clip that inspired it here.
Lately I've been listening to SModcast and drawing scenes that Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier describe. Here's my most recent one. You can see it here with the audio clip (it puts the drawing into the context of their Minority Report discussion).
During my last year of college, I used my Grandma's handicap placard to park in the most ideal places on the University of Utah campus. My fraternal Grandma (now deceased) had sold her car and was resigned to live in a mobile home in Las Vegas (I don't know how she got her groceries). With the placard, I parked right in front of my dorm. I parked right in front of the art building. To use an analogy, "Heaven" is to "Hell" as "my parking spaces" were to "the rest of the campus."
I loved it, and I didn't regret it. Why? Over the course of my college career, I'd estimate that I paid over $600 in parking tickets. Now, that has nothing to do with a lack of planning on my part. I'd often get to my college destination an hour early, only to have to park illegally because of the rarity of a parking space. Why was this a problem? Because The University of Utah's parking Nazis are villainous scoundrels. For one, go to any college website and you can usually find or request parking statistics. You can see how many parking spaces exist, versus how many parking permits were sold. This was never the case for the University of Utah. The number of passes sold was a secret, and the number of spaces in any given lot was a secret. Sure, you could look up maps to show you were student lots were, but when you drove to those lots you'd see row after row of empty spaces that were reserved for faculty and maintenance vehicles (which seemed to expand into student parking, two spaces per semester per lot). The thing is, nobody was ever, EVER parked in those empty spaces. So, you'd get desperate, park in an empty space, go to class, and return to your car to find a $20 ticket... Always. You'd go to pay the ticket and you could be as polite or as nasty as possible. It didn't matter. The parking office was staffed by unfeeling robotic sacks of meat. You could go in there and shit on their counter and they'd probably remain reactionless. They had sold their souls, and had truly become mindless Nazi automatons.
I hated every one of them and swear vengeance to this day (Also, you'd walk out to your car after paying your ticket only to find another ticket on your windshield because the meters in front of the Parking services building only allowed 10 minutes of time and you'd wait in line for 20). Anyway to summarize The University of Utah had draconian parking policies, ever shrinking lots, and hellbound staff members. I only feel bad that no other students could feel the joy that I felt every day of my senior year as I parked in prime spaces every day, thumbing my nose and the ludicrous University of Utah parking staff. One time an old roommate (Libby) saw me pull into a handicap space and gave me a disapproving glare. I didn't care at all. I was beaming with happiness every time I parked in a handicap space... For no reason, here's a time-lapse pic of me on Friday with sparklers.
On a side anecdote, during student elections, prospective candidates would often accost you when you walked from one class to the next. They'd ask you questions, and inevitably ask you for your vote. My foolproof way of rendering them flabbergasted was always to ask, "What can you, as a student representative, do about the University's parking problem." Nobody ever had an answer. They'd suddenly realize that the job that they were running for might require more than popularity and poise... Here's a picture of an odd looking frog by my window.
On another side anecdote, charitable organizations would often set up tables outside the University's library and accost you, asking for donations. They somehow got the idea that students had disposable income. I ran out of money at the University of Utah. I spent every cent that I had saved up to that point in my life. I had to steal pickle slices from the cafeteria to stay alive. When people would come up to me and ask for money, I'd laugh. I'd tell them to talk to the parking staff. I'd tell them to talk to the bookstore. I'd tell them to talk to the publishers of textbooks that released a new edition of the same text every year and somehow convinced the professors to go along with the scam. I'd tell them, "Don't ask starving students for money. Go downtown and set up at the Gateway. You'll find people with disposable income there."
Anyway as I mentioned earlier, I used a handicap placard during my last year of college. "That's horrible!" You might say as you glare at me in a Libby sort of manner. "You're not handicapped!" Aren't I? No, I'm not legally handicapped. However. I do have an arthritic condition that can flare up from time to time. At times, under the worst conditions, it has rendered me almost immobile. Without medication, proper diet, and under certain stresses, my arthritis can render me in a state that simulates that of a severely disabled person. There were times at the University of Utah during particularly harsh winters where a short walk to the car became a painful challenge. I have since learned to manage my condition with exercise, diet, and minimal medication... Here's me spelling my name with sparklers.
So, to say that I was completely undeserving of convenient parking would be an exaggeration. I didn't deserve it more than any other student; but I'm glad I had it and I don't feel bad about using it. In regards to my arthritis, there have been times when it has been particularly excruciating. You know that feeling that you get when someone jabs you in your kidneys with their finger? Now combine that with the feeling of putting your head, neck, and shoulders in a vise. Imagine having that feeling constantly and you'll get an idea of how my particular arthritic condition can feel at its worst... Here's a dude in his car on Sand Lake Road. 
Those times when for whatever reason, I am experiencing severe pain. I often have sometimes found myself imagining what I would do if I had limitless resources to combat my condition. Hip surgery? Disk replacement? I'd probably devote whatever resources I had to curing my condition in whatever way possible. Why would I do this? I remember back in the 1990's when I didn't experience pain. I could fall asleep easily, run fast, move quickly, and I didn't live with chronic pain. I think back to those days and realize that I squandered that mobility sitting on couches watching T.V. If I could regain that pain free living I'd do it immediately.
Andy sent me a link to this website one day which was basically my motivation for finally purchasing a digital SLR. I liked the idea of all of these "portraits" so I gave it a try today by mounting my camera on the passenger seat.
The sun was going down and I could not exactly concentrate on the camera settings while driving. I didn't want to have the flash on because I didn't want to freak people out, so I just relied on a set aperature and manually adjusted the shutter speed while driving. I had a remote shutter trigger, so I could keep both hands on the wheel and still take a picture. My first attempt didn't turn out all that great, but it was kinda fun. I think I'll give it another try during mid morning or mid afternoon on a North/South road so that I can get some pictures with direct sunlight.
Perhaps a wider angle lens next time to capture more of the car.
I sit down and examine it. Upon first impression, the thick leather cover is impressive, and the sewn on label is kinda nice. I skim through the book. Its got decent typography, good photos, and a fairly simple and clean layout. I'm not wowed by it, but I am impressed by certain aspects of it. Having made a few books in my day, I know how much of a hassle certain aspects can be. The binding, page numbering, page edges lining up, etc. My boss asks me to, "Make one, but do it better." I think to myself, "Ok, I can do that. There's going to be some hurdles, and we have a history of making last minute changes, so I'll have to plan it in a way that will allow for some flexibility of layout, pages, etc." Tina says, "We need it by the end of the day on Thursday. Now I think to myself, "Holy shit! I immediately formulate a final concept in my head drive to the leather store." No time for concepts, mockups, no time to work out the inevitable bugs of the design. No time to screw up and start over. This has to work perfectly the first time. Basically, you hit a home run in the final inning even though you haven't had practice and it's only like your fourth time at bat. Well it took a few long days, but we did it.
Yes, we at Krunchie cut, punched, stained, sewed, printed, and bound a pretty nice looking book. Yeah, at least one cow died.
Since I live in the middle of a major tourist destination and I consume my breakfast in public areas, I observe interesting breakfast phenomena fairly often. Of my recent breakfast experiences, the most amusing moments involve waffles. I'm going to presume that waffles are fairly uncommon outside of the United States and Germany, because I've noticed that many foreigners are fascinated and mystified by waffles and waffle-irons. The following are three moments that I found amusing:Subscribe to
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