Procrastinator's Toolbox

How to Do Anything You Damn Well Please

Want to know how to, well, anything?  Then check out wikiHow, "a collaborative writing project to build the world's largest how-to manual" and absorb its knowledge like the good Jedi that you are.  If you know how to do, well, anything, then throw in your two, three, twenty-four cents and feed the monster of the ultimate how-to manual.

- report by long-MIA-with-no-good-explanation SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim

Stare at Larry Silverstein

He's one weird lookin' dude.  Click on the link and keep on looking.  He doesn't get any less weird looking.  Only more.

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim, who thinks if Larry Silverstein was literature, he wouldn't be Gloria Steinemese.  He's more Dostoevskyesque, with his weirdness only getting more real.

"The Qwerty project's in good hands. Jim, you can count on me... and my bucket of parts."

For the Potato Head Lover on the Go, SMPT suggests you garnish the end of every sentence with "...and his/ her/ its/ yours/ my/ theirs bucket of parts."

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim, ...and (still with) her bucket of parts

Rumor has it

The message SMPT gets from Snopes.com is that you shouldn't believe everything you hear, just a little bit of it.  The place to go to find out if an urban legend is true or false, Snopes' "Urban Legends Reference Pages" also provide explanations to their claims that seem convincing enough and would make Ripley proud. 

But are they really true explanations to true claims, or simply a way to fuck with our gullible and supple minds, telling us what's true is false, and what's false is true?  You decide...

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim, who is interested in seeing what plant will grow from the seed of suspicion she planted in your head

A re-gift from SMPT to you

In the true spirit of the holidays and procrastination, I give you the ultimate of re-gifting: the forward!  And what better way to give than with tastefully lewd humor.  Namely, a photo from someone's lawn to your desktop of two reindeer ornaments doing the dirty.  Just click on that wee icon to the left, watch it blow up, and save to your desktop.  Take that you kittens-in-baskets.  An appropriately belated wish for a merry holiday season and happy new year's to you and yours from all of us at SMPT.  Here's to an excellent 1999!

Thanks to DJ Work for the hee-larious photo.

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim, who will catch up to 2006 one of these days. 

Pith

On Craigslist.  One day the kid will appreciate the pith; for now, he thinks it sucks. 

Tutor Needed for 11th Grader!

Patient, intuitive, telepathic tutor required to help my super-smart but under-achieving 16 year old manage his time better and motivate him to gain acceptance at predictably waspy Ivy league school.  Arid sense of humor and membership of grungy band would be distinct advantages.  2 to 3 hrs a week.

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim

BREAKING NEWS: Recyclable office paper bin is a hoax! And what you can do about it.

Truth be told this SMPTer stayed late at work last night (I'm still reeling from the shock myself.), but what's even worse (Perhaps just on par, or not as bad, because staying at work is no good.  No good.) was the harrowing discovery that despite efforts to keep separate trash from recyclable office paper in two different bins (Both of the same size with the same plasticy feel.  The only differences being that the former is brown and on the right, the latter blue and on the left; a difficult thing for colorblind  non-ambiturners such as "my friend"), at the end of the day, it all goes into the same massive garbage bag.  Fucked up.  And possibly illegal(?).  And this in a non-profit.  Where we're fighting for Causes.  And accept piddling salaries of licorice bits in lieu of legal tender so that more money can go to fight for Causes -- such as combatting the evils of mixed garbage!  I'd eat my hat.  I swear.  If I had one.  (No no.  That is a purple-striped toupee.  Focus, please.)

So you ask, "What can you do about it?"  I'm glad you asked.  Because I thought of what you can do about it.  And what you can do (other than go to your better business bureau, councilman's office, employer. yawn, yawn, yawn.) is make your own paper (and maybe find a place where "my friend" can exchange licorice bits for bread, sneakers, and chocolate.).  Here's all it takes:

1) Read up on the process (very easy) and take note of needed materials.  (Here's another site.)

2) Take the company card and purchase the basic materials at the local hardware store.  Preferably with most but not all of your co-workers; one should be left to answer with a shrug and "the hardware store" when your boss comes out of his/her office and asks "where is everybody?" to further the plot and hilarity (It is suggested you leave behind "Stinky" for obvious reasons). 

3) Return with the goods and start making a mess, shredding paper (preferably something dreadfully important), pouring water (to loosen the fibers), and sifting (very relaxing this sifting is).  Ignore the outrage expressed by your boss. 

4) When the cleaning person arrives, organize your colleagues to protest his/her environmentally insensitive and illegal (so it is rumored) actions with an "It's either him/her, or us." 

5) Have boss choose you. 

6) Have cleaning person leave in tears, preferably crying "What about my family?" aloud.

7) Cheer in triumpth.

8) Look around. 

9) Pan the absolute mess that is now the office.

10) Have Stinky say on cue "The cleaning staff will take care of it." 

Cut to commercial.  And a preview of the eleven o' clock news that will be covering the Parasites in Your Fingernails and Is Demi Moore Really a Blond?  I mean...

It's a great project with family, friends, and especially co-workers (except for with "Stinky" for obvious reasons). 

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim, who asks that you stop attacking her with semantics and why in heaven's name is it still so early?

Watch a panda.

Feeling bad?  Watch a panda and feel good.

Feeling good?  Watch a panda and feel better.

Feeling better than good?  Watch a panda and feel the bestest.

You can't top feeling the bestest.  Unless you watch a panda.

Thanks to Gene Perelson for the good feelings.

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim

For Love and Politics

Single Republicans have Republican People Meet.com where they can "Meet other Republican people today!"  Please note that the exclusive "people only" policy is strictly enforced, so Republican rabbits and porcupines should just leave their donations at the door.

Single Democrats have Dating Democrats.com which is "the new home of 'Singles on the Left'... where Liberals Meet Liberals!"  Please note that the name change is an actual one not intended to be reflective of Dem policy wishy-washyness, even though it still is.

For the rest of us, there's Marry an American.com where "no good American will be left behind!"  Please note this means you'll be moving to Canada. 

Don't say I didn't warn you.

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim, who asks what happened to good ol' fashioned pay-per-encrypted-truncated-word newspaper personal ads?

Interpret my nightmare.

If you have nothing better to do, I'd like your thoughts.  Because clearly mine have gone amock:

   

i am living on the sixth floor of an old narrow building with a vertigo-inducing staircase.  there is an elevator to the left of the entrance to the building.  but it hasn't worked in years.  rent is cheap and i share the floor with several friends; however, i am in the process of moving out.  why, i'm not sure.  normally the building seems almost empty.  neighbors on the floors below are usually scarcely seen.  i enter the front door, and notice it's open.  i think nothing of it.  the building's been going to pot for a while.  there are, however, an unusual number of kitten everywhere.  on every floor, kittens, some alone, some playing with each other, others in hissing clawing fights in corners, along the walkway.  i look down to the basement and see a barely clothed infant baring its "teeth" at a big cat; presumably one of the mothers.  there's clearly something strange going on; i'm glad to be moving out.  in front of each is a piece of paper taped to the floor, presumably with a name (of the cat) and a number to called if you're interested in adopting.  as i walk up the stairs, i start to see children, in rags, dirty, sick, without any expressions, peeking out of their doors; as i walk further up, they are gathering everywhere in the shadows, and then, as i reach the fifth floor, there are children, their faces pressed against the windows in from the airshaft.  by the time i reach the top floor, my heart's pace has quickened, but i have forced my walk to remain steady.  still, i look down the staircase, and see that the entire way down, all you can see is black, as all free space, all crevices, all access to light sources have been blocked by these children.  i walk to my room.  i see a child run past me and make its way to a closet door.  it opens the door and tries to climb up the boxes and clothes in it to the locked horizontal door (in the ceiling) that leads to the roof or attic.  i catch the child by the scruff and take it to the stairs, where there are more children attempting to get onto the sixth floor.  you can see that they want to come up, but something is keeping them back.  the child howls but obeys my orders for it to return downstairs.  i don't know if the "door" leads to the roof or the attic, because we were explicitly told not to open it.  on my way back to my room, i hear arguing in the bathroom.  one of my roommates, jane, is sitting on the edge of a plastic plant holder/tub -- it's large, the size of a bathtub, one to two feet off the ground, only rectangular.  presumably brought inside to be cleaned; it's dry with bits of dirt on the inside.  she's arguing with another roommate, carrie, about some religious matter.  they're furious at each other.  jane, in such a rage, accidentlly falls backwards into the tub.  there's a splash, and she disappears. i rush to her, worried, confused.  i see her flailing in the currents and waves of foaming red water, i try to grab hold of her, but then she goes under.  another roommate (we'll call her mary) and i hastily tip over the tub, to get jane out.  it tips over, but it lands with a thud.  we lift it up; there's nothing inside but the bits of dirt that were in it.  it's dry inside.  i hear a scratching, a clawing.  mary and i rush to it; carrie is clawing at the roof/attic door, pulling at the lock with savage fury.  little rays of light seep through the sides; at the very least, she's loosened it a bit.  we yank her away, and as soon as we do, she becomes calm, dazed.  not sure what happened.  then the light in the hallway, in the room with the closet starts flickering.  i say to no one in particular "stop playing with the switch".  it goes out completely.  we try changing the bulb, but know that isn't it.  we check the fuses.  we're relieved to see that presumably that is what caused the light to go out.  but the children, they are getting restless.  the faucets in the bathroom next to the closet start to creak on, of their own volition.  and then there's a rumble, like the building is about to cave.  but it's not.  the sound is actually a neverending herd of dogs running the length of the elevator shaft; where are they coming from?  the sky?!  there's nothing above us, as we know it, anyway.  we see them race down the exposed shaft, and as they come to the first floor, they run out and start consumeing all of the kittens, one gulp at a time.  the children are getting fiercer, more impatient, and are making their way up the stairs.  the door in the closet is shaking violently.

And thaaaat's it.  What does it mean?!?  You tell me...

   

- report by SMPT correspondent, Kyoung Kim