Item-Writing Quiz

Circle the letter correspoinding to the "correct" response and be prepared to provide an explanation.

1. The whipple nucket is a typical example of an:
1. orsip.
2. dipple.
3. furd.
4. tusid.
2. The purpose of the cluss in furmpaling is to remove:
1. cluss-prags.
2. tremalis.
3. cloughs.
4. plumots.
3. Trassig is true when:
1. lup drises the vom.
2. the viskal flans, if the viskal is either donwil or sortil.
3. the belgo frulls.
4. dissles kils easily.
4. The stiggle frequently overfesk the treslum because:
1. all wilglass are mellious.
2. ginmiffs are always votial.
3. the pincluds are often fruply.
4. no dandas are lenkable.
5. The fribbled breg will minter best with a:
1. dignu elma.
2. erst pinret
3. ornt farq.
4. urtar bink.
6. Among the reasons for tristal doss are:
1. the sab fops and the foths tinz.
2. the kredge rotes, not the orot.
3. the rakob without the sluth.
4. the polat was thonced.
7. Which of the following must always be present when trossels are being gruven?
1. rint and vost
2. vost
3. shum, tark, and vost
4. vost and plone

* adapted from: Sax, G. (1997). Principles of Educational & Psychological Measurement & Evaluation. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.

Untitled

I have been living at my current address for 1.25 years at this point. This is the longest I have gone without moving since I escaped my mother's basement when I was 19. I've been to 18 countries and 14 states, met an innumerable quantity of unforgettable people, and collected at least three volumes worth of stories to recount at parties. I've fallen in and out of love, been burned and subsequently reborn, and discovered many potential pursuits for my future endeavors. I've grown and matured a lot as a robot person since the day of my birth how-many-ever moons ago and I'd like to think I've made a difference in the world.

Well, what are you going to do with yourself? that little voice asks. Are you finally ready to settle down, get married, and have lots of babies? Does this self-aggrandizing post about how great you are really have any other point then stroking your own ego?

FUCK NO!

Well, maybe that last one has a point...

Anyway, in about six weeks I will have sold and/or donated everything I own (sans a few essential goods) and set off towards the sunrise for my next adventure.

My infrequent, stalwart travel companion and I will be loading up our bikes and setting out to stealth camp and/or couchsurf our way through these United States (of which I've seen only a fraction). We'll be documenting as much as we can at our blog, which—at this point—is still a work in progress. Although I may update this site from time to time, most of the activity will be going on over there... so be sure to add it to your RSS readers or whatever it is you people use to read my oh so eloquent meanderings on life.

Until next time.

Thou Art Invited

On the Tenth day of the Twelfth month in the Two-Thousand Fourth year at Nineteen-hundred hours the celebration of the twentieth anniversary of one, Luke Earley, will commence. Upon this day thou art summoned to participate in the festivities. Thou must chooseth betweenth oneth faction to supporth; the family of Ninjas, or the family of Pirates. Engaging in dress-up is not required but it is highly encouraged to enhance the enjoyment of this merry event. Nourishment and beverages of all types will be provided on this shpdoinkel day. Presently it is requested that you do not bring present for your presence is present enough. FYI it is requested however that U RSVP ASAP because AFAIK it will make things easier on teh host LOL!!!!111.

952.200.1049
9731 Knightsbridge Road
Apartment Number 18
Eden Prairie, Mn 55347

The Price of a Soul; Things I Will Do for Money

$1

• draw a doodle of your face
• come up with five sweet band names
• hug or high-five you
• write a haiku
• Google something for you

$5

• dance for two songs
• perform every magic trick I know
• intentionally lose at a game to you
• take out the trash
• watch a movie with you

$10

• twirl around until I get bored or throw up
• give you a massage for fifteen minutes
• yell loudly in public about your sexual stamina
• read aloud for at least a half hour

$25

• mow your lawn real good
• learn how and then bake you a cake
• do your simple tax return

$50

• follow you around for a day giving you compliments
• be really thankful
• rearrange the furniture and clean one room

$100

• detail your car*
• write a 2,000 word essay on any subject

$1,000

• just about anything

*note: I keep all change found in the process

How Is Your Criminality in This City?; The Universe Loves Me

This is a story all about how my life continues to be awesome and why—as a rule—I am convinced of my own invincibility.

===

During the summer the key to my chain bike lock broke off inside the mechanism, rendering the lock unusable. However, it still ran through the frame of my bike so out of laziness I continued to use it (by wrapping it around the handlebars in order to appear locked) instead of going through the hassle of removing it and getting a new, less crappy security device. This method worked all well and good until one fateful day.

It was early in the morning. I was waking up for class and Adam was getting ready for work. He poked into my room and asked, "Did you park your bike somewhere else last night?"

Nonplussed, I shook my head.

He sort of sighed, and then said, "Well, it's not there."

Silently hoping he was playing a joke, I sauntered downstairs to the front steps to see for myself. Sure enough, the bike was gone.

Disheartened, but taking it as only I could, I shrugged and then continued on my morning routine. I walked to school that day and continued to do so as necessary.

At one point I got a free bike from Emily's brother and attempted to repair it, but after taking various bits apart and pricing out some components from the local bike shop, I sort of gave up. I rode it 'as is' for a day or two before both tires blew out on my way home, nearly sending me careening into traffic.

At this point, I imagine you're wondering, how does this story illustrate how Luke's life is so great? Well, we're almost there; bear with me.

About six weeks after the incident, I was jogging back home after deriving a bunch of sweet calculus equations on a beautiful summer day and I decided to vary my usual route and run up 15th near Loring Pasta Bar. Suddenly, I saw something familiar out of the corner of my eye. I slowed my gait and turned around, staring at the bike parked and locked in front of me.

Although it was black (not rainbow), the pedals were different (i.e. not broken), the chain looked new, and there was a plastic fender installed, I was sure it was mine. It had the same leopard-spotted seat. Same broken tightener thing by the rear wheel. Same tapeless, scratched up handlebars. In fact, it still had the new tires I had bought only days before it was stolen.

I went inside the Pasta Bar and asked the host if he knew whose bike was outside. He stared at me uncomprehendingly and said, "Bike...? What bike?" I said, "Yeah. The bike. Outside. Do you know who owns it?" He continued to gawk, so I led him outside and pointed at it, proclaiming, "That's my bike." He mumbled something about not knowing anything about it, and went back inside.

At a loss, I called the cops: they said they'd send a car over. I dared to walk across the street to Adam's place of employment (Potbelly's) and wave him outside. He chuckled at my exuberance and scoffed, "Of course."

The police officer arrived shortly thereafter and I explained the situation to him. He asked me if I had filed a police report (no), how I knew it was mine, etc. He pointed out that, essentially, he couldn't do much until the next day (when their mobile unit was available to cut the lock). I wasn't particularly keen about waiting around all day, but, I figured it was a small price to pay. He then suggested (and I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier) to buy a lock of my own and double lock the bike so that even if the thief unlocked their lock, mine would still be there.

Happy happy! I skipped down the sidewalk to the local bike shop to buy a lock. I rambled on about my adventure and they casually mentioned that they had a lock cutter I might be able to use. Joy joy! Less than ten minutes later, I was biking my old new bike home free!

To top the whole thing off, whoever stole it put some work into it; tuning up the brake (yes, just one), swapping out some rusted components, and basically making it ride the best it has ever ridden. Excellent, am I right?

note: due to the fact that there was another flat black painted bike locked in the same place the next day and that the whole interaction with the host of the Pasta Bar was profoundly awkward, I believe he may have been the thief.

===

So that's my story folks. I told you it'd all end up for the best!

It's Late; I'm Bored

25

PSTL 1368, Literatures of the World: International Perspectives