After a month of planning, the Kickstarter drive is now closed. We set out to throw the party of the year and we raised almost twice our $5k donation goal to do so. This is happening FULL ON this Saturday. I hope to see you there.
And since 3 people bought “The Slave” package for $500 each, I will be wearing a dress.
HACK THE PLANET!!!111!!!11!
Shortly after I started this blog a little over a year ago, I started the FOUND at the Internet Garage series to share all the amazing crap I find at the charmingly dysfunctional Internet cafe where I work on the weekends.
This one takes the cake.
Today I was sitting at the help desk, Internetting and stuff, while my coworker Mike dug around in the shelves behind me looking for a part for the laptop he was fixing.
“Yo, need any birth control pills?”
“Probably.” I said, turning around to find him holding two months worth of Yaz. “Oh, nevermind. That stuff makes people crazy. Why do you have that?”
“I don’t know, someone left this bag here the other day,” he said, holding up an Urban Outfitters tote bag.
I got up to examine the contents and found the most perplexing combination of items I have encountered at the Internet Garage to date. I immediately went to the scanner to document the contents, as I usually do when I find strange things in that place.
In my 11th grade AP English class, we used to begin every day with an exercise in response writing. Mrs. Smith would write a word, phrase, or provocative quote on the black board and set an egg timer for three minutes. In those three minutes we had to write a “journal entry” in a notebook solely dedicated to those exercises. The deal was, we could write about anything, and she would never read our journals. She would just flip through the pages a few times throughout the semester and check them off to make sure we’d actually been writing while the timer was running.
The point of this exercise was to build up confidence in our ability to churn out content. It was a skill that was highly necessary on the standardized tests we were all constantly preparing for, but I had a hunch that Mrs. Smith had other reasons for her assignment as well. After all, this was the teacher who one day, after we had all gotten situated and were waiting quietly for class to begin, blared Barbara Streisand’s “People” on the CD player, to our horror, to break us of the habit of using the word repetitively as a subject (people think this, people do that, etc..). She once broke the sacred “teachers don’t swear” rule to illustrate her opinion of how the word “fuck” was the epitome of classlessness and that there was always a better word choice. She tended to go to extremes to drill important lessons into our heads.