bhawken: Can you send me those pictures from the trip to D.C.?
Mamahawk: I don't know how to scan them.
bhawken: You own a digital camera...
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Homework? How Dare You.
During my elementary and high school years, anything my teachers assigned for homework was destined to end poorly.
Invariably my assignments would contain a question about past predicates or solving for x, and, invariably, I would rapidly lose interest once I got home and got distracted by more pressing matters, like shoving a tray of ice cubes down Jake's shirt.
Once back at my desk I would spend several more hours drawing pictures in the margins of my notebook, and, eventually, admit defeat and ask Hal or The Beast for help.
Hal was the designated instructor for any questions involving math and science; The Beast oversaw essays, vocab words, social studies and piano lessons.
As a result, between the ages of 7 and 18, I was rarely happy to be speaking to them.
I have never met a respectable human being who enjoyed math homework, but Hal had a special way of making my daily assignments even more poignant.
After reading the story problem aloud several times (and adding additional dramatic inflections with each repetition), Hal would begin thinking out loud while scrawling what he considered to be painfully obvious conclusions across the page.
As I stared at the paper and began turning it a full 360 degrees in an attempt to find a starting point from which to decipher the result, there would be a series of fleeting moments (typically lasting 5 minutes) wherein he would openly question how we were related. Then, to put a positive spin on our time hunched around the kitchen table, he would tell a math-related joke to put my mind at ease. He might as well have been speaking Nigerian.
The Beast got to handle the softer subject matter, but she was no more helpful.
The most notable instance of this fact is the infamous assistance she offered while helping me prepare for a state capitals quiz in 7th grade.
Confident that she did not have to refer to a map while reviewing my answers to various flashcards (and using the capital of Oklahoma as her guide), she proceeded to inform me of the correct names of the other 49 states.
Imagine my surprise when a disappointed Mr. Lee handed back the tests and sternly explained to me that locations such as Hawaii City, Nebraska City, Florida City and Maine City did not exist.
The most unpleasant situations, however, came about whenever Hal was unavailable to help with his assigned areas of the curriculum, and The Beast had to fill in.
One famous assignment from my 8th grade science class asked each student to label the basic (I stress the word basic) components of a nuclear reactor.
Due to the fact I had been reading a Hardy Boys novel during the instructional film strip, I had to rely on The Beast's technical wizardry to apply the proper descriptive language to the various parts of the reactor.
Her final product was, perhaps, some of her finest work.
Invariably my assignments would contain a question about past predicates or solving for x, and, invariably, I would rapidly lose interest once I got home and got distracted by more pressing matters, like shoving a tray of ice cubes down Jake's shirt.
Once back at my desk I would spend several more hours drawing pictures in the margins of my notebook, and, eventually, admit defeat and ask Hal or The Beast for help.
Hal was the designated instructor for any questions involving math and science; The Beast oversaw essays, vocab words, social studies and piano lessons.
As a result, between the ages of 7 and 18, I was rarely happy to be speaking to them.
I have never met a respectable human being who enjoyed math homework, but Hal had a special way of making my daily assignments even more poignant.
After reading the story problem aloud several times (and adding additional dramatic inflections with each repetition), Hal would begin thinking out loud while scrawling what he considered to be painfully obvious conclusions across the page.
As I stared at the paper and began turning it a full 360 degrees in an attempt to find a starting point from which to decipher the result, there would be a series of fleeting moments (typically lasting 5 minutes) wherein he would openly question how we were related. Then, to put a positive spin on our time hunched around the kitchen table, he would tell a math-related joke to put my mind at ease. He might as well have been speaking Nigerian.
The Beast got to handle the softer subject matter, but she was no more helpful.
The most notable instance of this fact is the infamous assistance she offered while helping me prepare for a state capitals quiz in 7th grade.
Confident that she did not have to refer to a map while reviewing my answers to various flashcards (and using the capital of Oklahoma as her guide), she proceeded to inform me of the correct names of the other 49 states.
Imagine my surprise when a disappointed Mr. Lee handed back the tests and sternly explained to me that locations such as Hawaii City, Nebraska City, Florida City and Maine City did not exist.
The most unpleasant situations, however, came about whenever Hal was unavailable to help with his assigned areas of the curriculum, and The Beast had to fill in.
One famous assignment from my 8th grade science class asked each student to label the basic (I stress the word basic) components of a nuclear reactor.
Due to the fact I had been reading a Hardy Boys novel during the instructional film strip, I had to rely on The Beast's technical wizardry to apply the proper descriptive language to the various parts of the reactor.
Her final product was, perhaps, some of her finest work.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Bestial Advocacy
I'm sure that by now you've all seen Chris Crocker on YouTube or ABC news or some other multimedia outlet. Well, I guess this guy has been inspired by Crocker's advocacy, and is picketing our lovely blog.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Uphill Both Ways With A Bum Knee
Aside from his belief that "if you enjoy what you're doing, you should cut it out and get a job," the thing most strongly asserted by Hal during my tenure within the walls of the Hawken home was that he had it a LOT harder than Ben and I did growing up.
How much harder was immeasurable. If it started to appear measurable, it retroactively became even worse.
Apparently, despite the fact that when Hal was a kid a movie only cost a nickel, the average daily wage was actually negative 17 cents. "Yeah," Hal will remark with smugness, "we had to pay to work in my day."
When struggling to learn my major scales on the piano, Hal would point out that it was a lot harder when he had to learn on a piano that had razorblades embedded in the keys.
When Ben joined the swim team, Hal would note that their school couldn't afford a pool and they had to swim through dirt.
This difficulty gap was not only supposed to make us grateful that we didn't have to partake of the indigent circumstances of his childhood, but also grateful that he was so benevolent.
Upon applying to my university's school of music, my dad reminded me that I should be grateful that he was allowing me to be a music major. Upon announcing his intention to not major in Chewing On Barbed Wire, Hal's father apparently put him in a scorpion-lined box and then rolled the box down a hill.
In fact, from a composite of descriptions of his childhood, I can infer that Hal's father was 8 feet tall, performed black magic, ate rocks and was made of out of a combination of steel and anger.
It should be noted that The Beast didn't have a charmed childhood either. Apparently, when her parents made her share a bed with her sister, my aunt regularly stabbed her with a sharpened toothbrush.
Also, something confirmed by both parents is that in their day, instead of being administered with a standard hypodermic needle, inoculations were administered by 86 individual needles, each of which being approximately 2 inches wide, and covered with salt.
How much harder was immeasurable. If it started to appear measurable, it retroactively became even worse.
Apparently, despite the fact that when Hal was a kid a movie only cost a nickel, the average daily wage was actually negative 17 cents. "Yeah," Hal will remark with smugness, "we had to pay to work in my day."
When struggling to learn my major scales on the piano, Hal would point out that it was a lot harder when he had to learn on a piano that had razorblades embedded in the keys.
When Ben joined the swim team, Hal would note that their school couldn't afford a pool and they had to swim through dirt.
This difficulty gap was not only supposed to make us grateful that we didn't have to partake of the indigent circumstances of his childhood, but also grateful that he was so benevolent.
Upon applying to my university's school of music, my dad reminded me that I should be grateful that he was allowing me to be a music major. Upon announcing his intention to not major in Chewing On Barbed Wire, Hal's father apparently put him in a scorpion-lined box and then rolled the box down a hill.
In fact, from a composite of descriptions of his childhood, I can infer that Hal's father was 8 feet tall, performed black magic, ate rocks and was made of out of a combination of steel and anger.
It should be noted that The Beast didn't have a charmed childhood either. Apparently, when her parents made her share a bed with her sister, my aunt regularly stabbed her with a sharpened toothbrush.
Also, something confirmed by both parents is that in their day, instead of being administered with a standard hypodermic needle, inoculations were administered by 86 individual needles, each of which being approximately 2 inches wide, and covered with salt.
They Require a License for a Car, But Not Internet Access
Hal and The Beast were born in the days before color TV, automatic transmissions or microwave popcorn, yet they have grown incredibly comfortable wandering around the Interweb unsupervised.
This, quite often, has led to things which are outlandishly hilarious for Jake and I, and utterly confusing for them.
If simply wandering around cyberspace weren't ridiculous enough, they occasionally try to use this medium as a means of communicating.
That's where our new feature, IM Convos, comes in. It's a detailed record of the elite level of discourse shared by Jake and I with Hal and The Beast.
It's important to note, once again, we're not making this up.
This, quite often, has led to things which are outlandishly hilarious for Jake and I, and utterly confusing for them.
If simply wandering around cyberspace weren't ridiculous enough, they occasionally try to use this medium as a means of communicating.
That's where our new feature, IM Convos, comes in. It's a detailed record of the elite level of discourse shared by Jake and I with Hal and The Beast.
It's important to note, once again, we're not making this up.
Using Letters and Numbers in a New Medium
Hawkman: Hey! I am text messaging you!
bhawken: This is not text messaging.
Hawkman: I saw someone doing this on a commercial.
bhawken: Text messaging is done with a phone.
Hawkman: I think it's was called "the mobile web."
bhawken: Are you doing this on your cell phone right now?
Hawkman: What are you talking about? I'm not talking on my phone, I'm at the computer!
bhawken has signed off.
bhawken: This is not text messaging.
Hawkman: I saw someone doing this on a commercial.
bhawken: Text messaging is done with a phone.
Hawkman: I think it's was called "the mobile web."
bhawken: Are you doing this on your cell phone right now?
Hawkman: What are you talking about? I'm not talking on my phone, I'm at the computer!
bhawken has signed off.
Instant Updates on Random Dog Sightings
Mamahawk: Are you busy right now?
bhawken: Yes, very.
Mamahawk: Are you working?
bhawken: Yes.
Mamahawk: I saw a cute dog today while I was driving to work.
bhawken: I gotta go.
Mamahawk: It looked happy! Call me later and I will tell you about it!
bhawken: Yes, very.
Mamahawk: Are you working?
bhawken: Yes.
Mamahawk: I saw a cute dog today while I was driving to work.
bhawken: I gotta go.
Mamahawk: It looked happy! Call me later and I will tell you about it!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The Hawken Dance Party
There was an extended period during our youth (a period which, arguably, is still alive and well) wherein Jake and I developed a deep appreciation of rap music.
Our love of this urban art form was aided and abetted by our father's love of enormous stereo equipment. Whereas he had carefully built a network of speakers designed to blare Boston songs at decibels capable of knocking small satellites out of orbit, Jake and I tested the limits of Hal's fondest possession on a constant supply of mid-90s hip hop.
Inevitably, while we would be slamming around the living room--the bass so loud it was loosening shingles and fillings--The Beast would wander into the fray.
I am fairly certain that she didn't like the music, but something about the primal roar of bass and drums set her body in motion.
Even the most advanced practitioners of kinesiology cannot explain how (or, for that matter, psychologists cannot explain why) she was moving in such a distinct manner, but it was a sight never to be forgotten.
As with so many other topics relating to the Hawken family, her dances defy mere language.
Perhaps the poet (note: younger readers, please click here instead) captured some of it when he famously wrote,
As I watched my mother dance, time and again, I began to see her movements as a distinct form of expression: She was imitating someone who was really dancing, who was imitating someone else who was making a joke about another person who was actually dancing.
It ultimately resembled most of the moves found in this piece of documentary footage. I'll let you guess which particular dancers were most successful at mimicking her movements.
Hint: None of the women.
Our love of this urban art form was aided and abetted by our father's love of enormous stereo equipment. Whereas he had carefully built a network of speakers designed to blare Boston songs at decibels capable of knocking small satellites out of orbit, Jake and I tested the limits of Hal's fondest possession on a constant supply of mid-90s hip hop.
Inevitably, while we would be slamming around the living room--the bass so loud it was loosening shingles and fillings--The Beast would wander into the fray.
I am fairly certain that she didn't like the music, but something about the primal roar of bass and drums set her body in motion.
Even the most advanced practitioners of kinesiology cannot explain how (or, for that matter, psychologists cannot explain why) she was moving in such a distinct manner, but it was a sight never to be forgotten.
As with so many other topics relating to the Hawken family, her dances defy mere language.
Perhaps the poet (note: younger readers, please click here instead) captured some of it when he famously wrote,
Now that I told ya a little bit about myself;
Let me tell ya a little bit about this dance.
It's real easy to do--check it out.
First I limp to the side like my leg was broken;
Shakin' and twitchin' kinda like I was smokin'.
Crazy wack funky.
People say ya look like M.C. Hammer on crack, Humpty.
That's all right 'cause my body's in motion.
It's supposed to look like a fit or a convulsion.
Anyone can play this game;
This is my dance, y'all, Humpty Hump's my name.
No two people will do it the same;
Ya got it down when ya appear to be in pain.
As I watched my mother dance, time and again, I began to see her movements as a distinct form of expression: She was imitating someone who was really dancing, who was imitating someone else who was making a joke about another person who was actually dancing.
It ultimately resembled most of the moves found in this piece of documentary footage. I'll let you guess which particular dancers were most successful at mimicking her movements.
Hint: None of the women.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Survivor: Hal
Survivor 2007
Personal Information
- First Name: Hal
- Last Name: (i refer you to the last question)
- Nicknames (if any): Triple H, Coach Hawk, Chumley, Scumpy
- Age: old enough to have bigger quads than you do
- Height: 6'2"
- Weight: light enough that my bum knees don't go out
- What is your occupation? informations technology football coach
- Please describe your day-to-day at work in 2 sentences: I hate my job. I hate my coworkers.
- Marital Status: sedentary
- Names of children: oh come, on, do i still have to remember that after they move out? i think one of them is Herman, or something.
- Strong-willed: you're damn right, and there's nothing you can do about it.
- Outgoing: i regularly strike up conversations with strangers in public places, often while out for dinner with my family. sometimes they're drunk and pay for our dinner for us.
- Adventurous: Star Trek Voyager and a bowl of cauliflower gets my heart pumping
- Physically and mentally adept: you bet. i wouldn't be a informations whatsamacallit if i wasn't!
- Adaptable to new environments: i'll be honest, i'm not even sure where i am at the present moment
- Interesting lifestyles, backgrounds and personalities: bicycles are neat!
What is your level of education and what school(s) did you attend? i coach football at a school. it's a big gray school with a roof!
Name three of your favorite hobbies.
1) writing email newsletters
2) waking up at 3am and riding my ludicrously expensive bike in the rain and hanging up my stinky bike shorts in the pantry
3) blaming my farts on my family
Have you been treated for any serious physical or mental illness(es) within the last three years?
well, i had 70% of my kneecap removed... for the second time.
List three adjectives that best describe yourself:
1) Prickly
2) Furry
3) Belch-prone
If you could hold any political office, what would it be and why? National Grumpiness Advisor and chair of International Passive-Agressive Complaints.
What is the accomplishment you are most proud of? some ungodly bike trip.
Do you have pets? If so, please list their name and type: I used to have a pet rock, back in the 70's. his name was skippy.
Are you a vegetarian or do you eat meat? meat costs too much. if you're buying though, yeah, i'll eat anything that bleeds.
What is your favorite TV Show? I tell everyone that it's Planet Earth, but really it's all of the episodes of Star Trek Voyager that involve close-ups of the blond in the Lycra jumpsuit.
What is your favorite movie? Back to the Future, and Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
What is your favorite music to listen to? conservative talk radio
How much Survivor have you seen? what?
Which Survivor contestants do you most relate to? what are you talking about?
Who would you choose for your loved ones visit? Rush Limbaugh
Describe your perfect day: up at 2am and nothing but yard work and uphill bike rides until 11 at night
What magazines do you read? The Fascist Weekly, and Live-in-Fear-of-Conspiracies Quarterly
To which other reality shows or dating shows, if any, have you applied? How far did you get in the application process? reality what?
Do you belong to any affiliations or organizations? NRA, AARP, VFW, and POOP
Do you have any body art (piercing, tattoo, etc. )? i once had a "kick me" sign taped to my back
What is your favorite sport? i coach football
Who is your hero and why? Statler and Waldorf
List three non-survival-related items you would take with you to the remote location, if allowed, and why. my bike, a pair of holey green sweats, a bottle of watered-down ranch dressing
What would be the craziest, wildest thing you would do for a million dollars? jog
What would you NOT do for a million dollars? run
What is your favorite topic of conversation at a dinner party? What topics are off limits? the Hormel Corporation's conspiracy to usurp American sovereignty
What skills do you bring to Survior that would make you a useful member of the group? I can dig a mean hole.
If you were stranded, who would you most want to be stranded with? the Borg lady from Star Trek
What was the last outdoor experience that you had? When was it? I was out digging a hole in the back yard and couldn't get out of the hole. The Beast didn't notice until my next paycheck didn't come.
What sports do you do regularly? i coach football
What is your swimming ability? i am an 8-year-old magnet whenever i get in a pool, so i avoid the water
Why do you believe that you could be the final Survivor? i'm only gonna ask this one more time. what are you talking about?!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Reality Show Applications
You may have noticed a new category here on the blog -- Reality Show Applications!
These are real applications to real reality shows which have been filled out on behalf of Hal and The Beast. We have gone to great efforts to mimic their personality, tone and style when answering each question.
With luck, the producers from some truly awful reality show will be calling them soon.
Chances are they won't be too happy when they see that we're doing this.
And, frankly, that's the point.
These are real applications to real reality shows which have been filled out on behalf of Hal and The Beast. We have gone to great efforts to mimic their personality, tone and style when answering each question.
With luck, the producers from some truly awful reality show will be calling them soon.
Chances are they won't be too happy when they see that we're doing this.
And, frankly, that's the point.
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