Blog of Life-Affirming Anecdotes: Ben Munson

Sine-Wave Homer

What do I do when my mind is wandering?

Crap like this:

Here is the original file of Homer Simpsons saying that he is gay. (Actually, it was homer recommending that Lisa tell Ralph Wiggum that she is gay, but that's another story.

What if we created a sine-wave replica of this sentence? Would it sound like Homer? Would it be intelligible? No need to lie awake at night worrying about those and other questions, the answer is here

Answers (in my mind): It's intelligible, but not terribly Homer-like. Not terribly Homer-like? What would Remez say?

P.S. Sine-wave Ralph can be found here

Carrie Munson, Stowaway

I'm heading off to Stanford and Berkeley for colloquia on Wednesday. Always eager to get packed, I took out my extremely care-worn (i.e., 'jacked up') suitcase and packed it yesterday.

I only left the room for a minute. When I returned, I saw the following.

Seriously, that's just off the charts.

Full Term

Today the 'bun in the oven' of my sister, Nancy, reached full term. She can drop any day now. Is it normal for uncles-to-be to have dreams every night about his nephew being born? If not, then we can chalk that up as yet another way in which I am not normal. Of course, my dreams are so vivid that I often have more than one in a given night, but I presume that dream I had where Stefan Frisch and I were in a glass house in the middle of the desert surrounded by dinosaurs was probably unrelated to the upcoming birth.

Seriously, dinosaurs. Scary ones. And Stefan (being Stefan) was incredibly laid back about the whole thing. Very upsetting.

I feel like I'm gonna Rolf

I like free stuff.

It comes as no surprise, then, that I didn't exactly say no when my friend Rolf Belgum (yes, he's the brother of that famous sonic artist Eric Belgum) started giving me tips left and right at the gym yesterday. Great tips--the kind that people pay many hundreds of dollars an hour to get.

Unfortunately, I maxed the zone, or whatever the fitness buzzwords are, and I'm sitting here today feeling the pain of billions and billions of muscle cells that were worked a wee bit too hard yesterday. Fellow children of the 1970s will recall an episode of that moronic TV show, Three's Company (remember how incredibly homophobic that show was?) in which Jack works out too hard and then minces around during a date. I'm definitely mincing today (pain mincing, not my usual light-in-the-loafers mincing).