Big Buck Hunter World Championship!

You read the title of this post correctly. Big Buck Hunter, the bar game that you know and love, has a WORLD Championship. When I heard that the Championship is held in Chicago every year I thought, hmm, that's neat. But when I found out that Jesse P had qualified and was competing for the ladies title, my head nearly exploded.

I should note that I have a long history and supreme respect for World Championship titles. Growing up my mom would influence us to do pretty much anything by telling us we were competing for the World Championship. Although she also persuaded my little sister to bathe by dropping Double Dare references and asking her if she accepted the "Physical Challenge." The Physical Challenge was just using shampoo. But I digress.

Anytime my mother tired of playing Connect Four with me or my sisters, she would say in a very slow, very serious tone, "OK. This last game is for the World Championship Title. Champion of the World. One last game."

These were big moments in my childhood.

So knowing that Jesse was competing for an actual title, in pretty much the most awesome event ever, made the Big Buck Hunter Championship a must-see. I can honestly say, it didn't disappoint.

Before heading over to the Cubby Bear where the event was held, Katie and I made t-shirts to show our support. Technology has improved almost every facet of our lives, but nothing says "We're here for you!" better than a handmade t-shirt.

Mine was an epic fail. Obviously.

Jesse got us in as VIPs which was hilarious and awesome so we drank and ate for free, and took way too many free BBH beer koozies and wrist sweatbands, which Katie ripped off after five minutes, exclaiming, "It's too hot in these!" Ah, yes. If only Leonardo DiCaprio's character in Titanic had had a few wrist sweatbands to stay warm.

The atmosphere in the bar was incredible. People dressed in random shit, photographers, videographers, people being interviewed, just an amazing vibe leading up to the start of the competition. I was literally making myself sick with excitement (and free quesadillas) and couldn't stop smiling.

Jesse's friend Mary was also competing so we knew TWO possible champions! When I asked them why they didn't dress in camo, they replied that they wanted to stand out. Great line. They were both calm and collected while I freaked out as their player profiles came across all the tv screens in the bar.

Mary actually took out the top-ranked girl in the 1st round and it was such a huge upset that she got cheers and up-top high fives from everyone in the bar. It was insane!

Jesse dominated round after round and ended up placing 4th! In the world. It.... was awesome.

It was such a blast and Mary and Jesse were both stars. Congrats you guys!

Blank Stare: Park Bench Edition.

Two separate stories here from two different park benches.

The first comes from an old man sitting on a park bench smoking as I jogged by:

Old man: Run faster!

Me: [Blank stare.]

The second involves me sitting on a park bench reading and a man with a bag of peanuts and seeds coming up to stand right next to me before throwing handfuls of nuts around my feet.

Me: [Blank stare.]

Man: [Blank stare. Throwing stuff.]

Every pigeon and squirrel in the park: Oooh, free shit by that girl's feet! Let's ride!

Man: [Walks away, leaving me surrounded and trapped by park critters.]

Me: [Blank stare.]

Really, Footloose Remake? Really?

Note: For full dramatic effect please listen to this song while you read.

Just saw a trailer for the new Footloose movie.

"Footloose 2: My Foot's Still Loose?" you ask.

No, kind reader. Not Footloose 2. Just regular old Footloose. Actually, the same exact Footloose you saw in the 80's only with a new cast and dancing scenes pulled from Stomp The Yard instead of Grease.

Other than that, everything is the same. Everything.

Storyline? The same.

Dancing away frustrations in an abandoned building? The same.

Old VW bug? The same.

This one freaking killed me! When I saw that the character in the remake was driving the same old yellow bug that Kevin Bacon's character drove, I couldn't effing believe it. I suppose it's better than the bad-ass renegade outsider driving a more current VW Bug, putting flowers in his little cup before tearing up the town one pop-lock-and-drop move at a time. But still. They couldn't change one thing in the remake?! Seriously? The freaking bug had to stay?!

It's slightly upsetting that an entire generation of youngsters is going to think this is the Footloose that we're talking about when we talk about Footloose. It's not. And if the makers of this film were willing to use the same VW bug but don't include "Let's Hear It For The Boy" during the learning to dance montage, I will get up and walk straight out of the theatre. Because let's be honest, I'm obviously going to see this.

How To Succeed At A Craft Fair Without Really Trying.

I normally don't get into crafts at all. After I met Amy Sedaris and dropped $30 on her craft book for poor people I realized the irony. I hate crafts and $30 was way too much to spend on a book that reminded me of that, particularly because I was totally poor.

As previously mentioned, I hit up a craft fair last weekend with two buddies from my hometown. There were artists peddling all sorts of handmade clothes, jewelry, posters, and cards. You have to be a very judicious shopper at craft sales. Surrounded by crafts and craft enthusiasts, anything knitted seems completely necessary. It's like when you're on a beach vacation and think getting your hair braided is a good idea.

Obviously, there were a lot of birds on things.

But Suzanne also noted how many words were on things. "So many words!"

If you planned your outfit accordingly, you could have a message on everything you were wearing and holding.

If you want to succeed at a craft fair just put one of these things on something:

-A bike on something

-A whale on something

-An animal wearing a suit on something.

-A Mustache/beard on something. (Seriously, people? Still not over this?)

-An eyepatch on something

-A Chicago flag on something

-A random food item like a Pop Tart on something

I say, be bold! Put a single sideburn on something! A pogo-stick! Buffalo's city flag! (It's pretty sweet, look it up.) Or do whatever you want, I guess I don't really care. Just stop making totes.

Your Clever Names Aren't Fooling Anyone.

Dear Nail Polish,

Who do you think you are? $8.50 for half an ounce?! Do you realize a gallon of paint costs $35 but a gallon of nail polish would cost $2,176? Do you think you're better than paint?! You are paint, motherfucker. Nail paint! You probably show up to your paint family reunions and speak in a slightly different accent than the last time you all met up, correcting everyone any chance you get.

-Jack! How the hell are you?

-It's Jacques, actually. You don't know Jacques.

Do you know you're pretty much the most unreliable paint there is? You smudge, chip, run-- if actual paint did that we would have to paint our rooms like 73 times a year. And you're the reason toe-separators exist! The fact that I just had to type out "toe-separators" and people will know what I'm talking about is ridiculous! Aren't you embarrassed?! Have you no shame, Nail Polish? Have you no shame at all?

Fries Are Ready!

When I was in high school, bowling was a gym unit. It was a coveted gym unit. And why wouldn't it be? Because what would you rather do? Change into nasty gym clothes to run, orrr keep your normal clothes on, take the bus over to Brockport Bowl, and hang out with your friends for 80 minutes?

Brockport Bowl was a local business that had clearly worked out some sort of deal with the school to convince educators that an increased heart rate could be achieved with 10 frames of alternating turns to toss a ball. Plus, the bowling alley was only about a mile from our school and we easily could have walked over there but we always took a bus. It was like the entire unit was challenging us to move as little as possible. AND they opened their snack bar during gym class hours. So the first thing everyone did after getting their shoes was place an order for mozzarella sticks. Hearing, "Fries are ready!" over the speakers at Brockport Bowl is so engrained in my mind that I can't look at anything related to bowling without saying it.

I took a lot of bowling units.

When I first started, the idea was that we would learn how to keep score. But with the introduction of electronic scoring, all there was left to do was laugh, eat fries, and try to get a strike bowling lefty with a 6-pound ball.

I have NO idea how bowling continued to be a part of our physical education.

Anyway, I bring this up only to highlight the mysteries that surround bowling alleys and their ways of operating. A few months ago we stopped at a bowling and found their hours to be:

Wednesday: 8:30-11:30 AM

Thursday: 12:30-4:00 PM

Saturday 6:00-9:00 PM.

Convenient!

Nothing says rise and shine quite like an 8:30AM bowl.

And is it 1:00 o'clock on a Thursday? Grab your 9-pounder! Let's hit the lanes.

Also, I found a bowling alley in Chicago the other day on the second floor of a building. Who's genius idea was that? The retail/restaurant space below it was totally vacant with a sign saying it was available for lease. Go figure. I'm semi-tempted to open up a place called "Fries Are Ready" but I think that would be too large of an investment just to tip my hat at an old high school gym joke that only I would appreciate.

FOR-EV-ER Stamps.

Newman: Oh, calm down everyone. No one's cancelling any mail.
Kramer: Oh, yes I am.
Newman: What about your bills?
Kramer: The bank can pay 'em.
Newman: The bank. What about your cards and letters?
Kramer: E-mail, telephones, fax machines. Fedex, telex, telegrams, holograms.
Newman: All right, it's true! Of course nobody needs mail. What do you think, you're so clever for figuring that out? But you don't know the half of what goes on here. So just walk away, Kramer. I beg of you.

Recent news that the US Postal Service is struggling with $9 Billion worth of debt can't really come as a surprise to anyone who has ever waited in line at the Post Office. In the time that it took me to buy a book of stamps (27 minutes) I was able to figure out what seems to be escaping the higher-ups at the USPS: Postal Employees are no dummies. These workers understand that the mail NEVER stops. If they were to move at a rate that kept up with demand, they'd have one really long-ass difficult workday, everyday. They know that no matter how slowly they move, people will still come. It's actually a brilliant little system they've worked out for themselves. Except the whole part about the inefficiency bankrupting the entire Postal Service.

In the 27-minutes I waited to buy stamps, four customers were served. This was one exchange I overheard:

Customer: Hi, I was in here yesterday. Do you remember me?

Postal Employee: (Taking her time like examining a line-up) That box you're holding looks familiar. And so do you.

Customer: OK, because I wanted to send this to California, you see? To this address? But it arrived at my house today.

Postal Employee: (Slowly got out of her seat like she'd been dipped in wet cement. Picked up the box and examined all six sides of it. Took off her glasses, looked at stickers, put her glasses on, tapped her fingers on the box)

Me: [Blank Stare.]

Postal Employee: Sir, what's happened is that you wanted to send this box to this address here, but they've actually sent it to your return address. They sent this to you.

Me: [Deep Breath.]

Customer: Yes, that's exactly what happened.

Postal Employee: So would you still like it sent to California?

Customer: Please.

To his credit, he was very, very patient.

I think the only way to calmly wait at the Post Office is to assume that you're being filmed for some sort of John Quinones Primetime special.

Shall We? 2.0

Back in 2008, I wrote a post about dance shows because I couldn't believe how many were on the air. Back then the list included:

Dancing With The Stars
America's Best Dance Crew
America's Best Dance Crew Season 2 (But shouldn't it actually be called America's Second Best Dance Crew?)
Step It Up And Dance
So You Think You Can Dance?
Your Mama Don't Dance
Dance War: Bruno vs. CarryAnn
Dancelife
The Deadliest Dance on the Discovery Channel
Ice Road Dancers
Law & Order: Flap Ball Change Unit
Iron Dance America
How I Met Your Dancer
My House is Worth Dance?
Ellen
And Dance Dance Dance Dance Dance which is currently in pre-production

Since then, we can add to the list:

Dance Your Ass Off

Dance Your Face Off

Dance Your Ass Face Off

Who You Calling Ass Face?: Dance Off Challenge 3000

Dance Moms

Live To Dance

Born To Dance

Die Dancing

Paranormal Dance on A&E

Dancing With With The Sharks- Shark Week Special

Hoarders Dance Edition: Shoes, Leotards, and No Room To Dance.

Nathaniel from Yo Gabba Gabba now has his own reality series

and Ellen.

It really annoys me when people say there's nothing on TV. Clearly, they're not looking hard enough.

I Lied.

So I know I said this article by Chamber Four was the book's first review, but that wasn't entirely accurate. I met up with some of Brockport's finest over the weekend to walk around a craft fair in beautiful Wicker Park and I was reminded that Suzanne actually gave me my first review...AND my first (and youngest) fan! Not only was this the nicest email I've ever received, it was also far and away the cutest.

Thanks again, Suzanne!

Jess,

I hope I can say this without sounding like a big giant weirdo...

#1. Attached are pictures of my daughter..which as you can see, is your youngest, yet biggest fan :)

#2. So I taught for 8 years and couldn't get enough of taking classes about reading and writing. I went through the National Writing Project (not saying this for you to be all, "Wow Suzanne, you have really gone places after that Europe trip", but wanting you to know that I feel like I know what I am talking about when it comes to this stuff.

One of my favorite authors is Ralph Fletcher. I love his writing and his writing about writing. He tells kids, "Writers don't live extraordinary lives, they just look at life in an extraordinary way" He always talks about the way writers notice the world around them...THAT is what makes them a writer. Those words have helped me create lots and lots of little writers in this world...

Long story long, you ARE this quote. I am only 3 chapters in to open eyed sneeze, and am so impressed by the way you notice and express your "noticings". Amazing. Extraordinary. absolutely love it!!!!

#3. I am thrilled for you and hope that this is just the beginning of a very successful writing career!!!

So....my apologies if I sounded like a weirdo, but big-ups, Martin!!!

Open-Eyed Sneeze- It's hilarious!

It's surprising!

It's thought provoking.

It's Not A Great Story.

I haven't gone shopping in a long time but lately I've noticed that the new big thing with salespeople is to ask you why you need the clothes for which you're shopping. All of a sudden you have to have some sort of story to go along with your need to buy a shirt. I encountered this a lot when shopping for book events. I'm terrible with small talk and have trouble believing that perfect strangers care why I'm doing anything, so I always hated these conversations.

Salesperson: What are you shopping for today?

Me: Clothes.

Salesperson: Have a special event coming up?

Me: Well, yeah actually. I published my first book and I'm having a party.

Salesperson: Well belts are 30% off. Let me know if you need a different size.

I have no idea why they engage you in conversation only to redirect whatever you say to accessories.

Also, I sincerely dislike shopping. Trying on clothes is bad enough but walking in malls past the five million different smells makes me sick. Bath and Body Works, Abercrombie smell, Cinnabon (totally acceptable), Yankee Candle, perfume counters. If you were to lead a blindfolded dog through a mall they would eventually learn how to talk and say, "I have no fucking clue where we are." And now, on top of everything else, I have to explain my reasoning for being in a store.

Salesperson: What are you looking for today?

Me: My daughter. I lost her six years ago and I think she might be in the dressing room. Excuse me.

Anyway, this was an exchange I had with a store employee today:

Salesperson: Hi, there! Can I help you find anything today?

Me: I don't think so, but thank you.

Salesperson: Well are you looking for anything in particular?

Me: Pants.

Salesperson. OK, great. Why do you need pants?

Me: To go out in public, mostly.

Blank Stare: Airport Edition.

This was the recent exchange I had with a TSA official at airport security:

TSA: Sir, do you have anything in your pockets?

Me: (Pause.)

TSA: Oh, I'm sorry Ma'am. I was looking at your pants.

I was wearing jeggings.

There. Perfect.

Yesterday, as I sat on the bus in the pouring rain, I saw a woman walking down the street in a full length raincoat (where do you buy those outside of fishing supply stores?) and a shower cap. Normally, we'll see a rain bonnet. You really have to be a confident person to wear a rain bonnet in public. Ten times out of ten I'd rather have wet hair than walk around a city looking like this:

But the shower cap was a first for me.

Waiting on the bus at a crowded stop, I watched the woman walk on the other side of the street, adjusting her shower cap and then looking at her reflection in every storefront window as she passed. Sometimes she would stop and mess around with it a little. All the way up? No, adjust. To the side like a beret? Maybe. Which side? This one? This one? No, let's try it all the way up again.

I felt like getting off the bus, making my way over to her, grabbing her gently by the shoulders and reminding her in a calm tone, "Ma'am. It's a shower cap. Just keep walking."

Yes! And...

So, this is happening tonight in Rhode Island!

I'll be reading from the book and possibly joining a few sketches--yikes!-- so if you're in the area, you should obviously come check out Boom Scones!

I'm obviously nervous about this. I get nervous when I have to try a new bus route. All I really know about improv is the "yes and" rule that says you should always agree with what is said and then build on it. My biggest fear is that I'll freeze and just say no. Damn you, elementary school drug abuse resistance education!

I may or may not spend my morning reading the wikipedia page for improvisation. I'm not telling.

First Review!

Here's a link to the first ever book review for Open-Eyed Sneeze!

Reviews always make things feel more official. That's why I never buy a product on TV until I've listened to one of those personal testimonials about how the product changed someone's life. The reviews for pajama jeans pushed me to buy nine pairs.

REVIEW: Open-Eyed Sneeze

By SEAN CLARK, on July 29th, 2011

Author: Jess Martin

2011

Filed Under: Memoir, Nonfiction,Short-run

Get a copy from Harvard Book Store

C4 Ratings...out of	10
Language.....	8
Entertainment.....	9
Depth.....	7

A self-published memoir by a twenty-something detailing that horrible, floaty time between college graduation and embarking on some sort of path into adulthood? You can’t get much lower on the list of books I’d expect to like. Despite that, when Jess Martin released her book through the Harvard Bookstore (where we run the paperback versions of our own literary ventures), I supported a local artist* and read it all the same. I’m really glad that I did. It is, by any measure, a very good read.

The plot, much like the point in her life Martin relates, appears pretty directionless at first. She writes about finishing college and returning home to her parents, where she intended to collect herself before stepping out into the real world. But she finds herself stymied and winds up napping on the couch and emailing the occasional resume.

As the book goes on, Open-Eyed Sneeze reveals a lot of gears turning: it’s at once wacky family drama, a coming of age from a second childhood, and a microcosmic metaphor, all speaking to a generation of talented young adults for whom college degrees are inflated and the job market is deflated.

It’s also funny. This is risky business, as there’s nothing more annoying than a book that continually tosses up taters for jokes and expects the reader to laugh as they continually fall flat. Luckily, Martin’s wit, while sometimes dry and acerbic, has a gentleness and graciousness that softens the edges. It works well:

It’s no longer enough to have a job, now it should be the job of my dreams.Which is what, exactly? I have no idea. I’m never working in my dreams. In my dreams I’m made of Fluff and can eat my own face. I’ll just take a regular job, thanks.

Humor alone can rarely carry a book, of course. Here it works as a reinforcement to a strong narratorial voice, one that somehow manages to be authorial in its timidity:

The difficulty in saying what I want lies in the fear of never having it, or fear of having it but not liking it. I bet that’s true for a lot of people…We’re a society obsessed with success and the first to ridicule those who find it. Thus, we try not to shout out what we really want so as to avoid anyone hearing it and holding us to it.

So she muses, and she plays, and she naps. She spends time with her grandmother who continually force-feeds her, and with her parents who think she still has a shot at being an astronaut. She’s back at home, afraid of being thought a failure. But for once she’s not doing what she’s supposed to do, and thus a sense of individuality seems to blossom. (Though given the idiosyncrasies she relates, I very much doubt uniqueness was ever a problem for Martin.)

Most importantly for a young memoirist, she’s quite insightful–see her tongue-in-cheek comparison of “Modern Artist vs. Realist”–and has an uncanny knack for drawing connections between her occasionally tangential musings and the bigger thought arc at work.

Trying to expound upon the arrested development, or failure to launch, or any other cliched term for the oft-delayed transition from child to adult, without coming across as whiny or, worse, arrogant, is no easy task. Always offered trophies and promised the world, many of us left college still sporting training wheels and expected to place in a bike race. But of course there is no on-switch for being an adult. For Jess Martin, like many others, all she could do was wander and wonder. As many have discovered, that’s an important step in the process. I’m glad Jess had the bright idea to document it.

Similar Reads: The Voting Booth After Dark (Garcia)

*[Disclaimer: I know Jess Martin. Our acquaintance is not of the variety where it would have an influence on my opinion of this book.]

Bored Much?

Sometimes when I'm bored online I look at the recently added shows on Hulu and try to guess what they're about. It's like balderdash only different.

All the cake shows are an easy guess. There are SO many cake shows. I love cake, but seriously people? How many cake shows are you really interested in watching?

Oooh, what's the cake going to be? Oh, will it fall? Ooh, icing. Oooh, fondant people. Oooh, cake drama.

Note: I'm not hating. I've probably watched more cake shows than anyone. Being unemployed requires that you watch at least three hours of cake shows a week. Food network competitions count.

But I digress.

The point is, there are so many random shows on Hulu that most of the time my guess is nowhere close.

Take for example, this gem; a little show called Yam Roll.

I'm pretty tired and didn't put much effort into it, but I guessed it was a cartoon about the adventures of a dog named Yam Roll.

Man, was I off.

Here's the summary from Hulu:

Yam Roll is the story of an exotic land of sushi and how one of its inhabitants, a super-powered taxi driver named Yam Roll, braves monsters, bad guys and barking dogs all in the name of unrequited love.

Well done, writer of Yam Roll synopsis. Well done.

Like.

Just a friendly reminder that I'm trying to beat Justin Bieber in number of "likes" on my facebook page by tomorrow.

I'm off by about 34 million.

If you're able to click things-- and you are because you got this far-- will you kindly like my Author Page? There are contests (not really), games (made that up), and fun prizes (there are no prizes.)

Thanks a lot. I like you.

Happy Birthday, Mer!

Today is this girl's birthday!

Here's a Top 27 list for her. Top 26 lists are so yesterday.

Meredith, The Top 27 reasons why you're my favorite:

27) You're hilarious. You make me laugh until I cry.

26) You have the best little voices and create the most memorable characters with them. Your accents are also incredible.

25) You always know when a camera is out and can pose perfectly for a candid shot. I'll never ever know how to do that.

24) You're the most thoughtful person I know. You remember so many things about the people in your life and consistently make those closest to you feel special.

23) You are the Queen of the to-do list. It's inspiring to someone like me.

22) You inspire me.

21) The people who have your support have SO MUCH SUPPORT! You're the best cheerleader, believer, high-fiver, smiling face any person who is attempting to do something could ask for. You have complete confidence in the people you love and the proof of it comes in your matter of fact nods when I mention how amazing your friends are. "Yeah. I know. They're wonderful."

20) You're silly! Your funny walks/noises/faces, your insistence on making me blush in public, your childlike wonder for the world and the million other things you do that make me actually giggle, are some of the best things about you.

Mer Thought Bubble: Ok, I'm just going to take your phone from you...

And push you in the pool like so...

Too soon, perhaps?

19) You read children stories better than anyone I know. The way you recite the names from Make Way For Ducklings is AMAZING.

18) You scream in excitement when you see ducks. And hippos. And hedgehogs. And french bulldogs. And baby birds. And baby bunnies. And babies. You're turning 27 but really you're 6.

17) Your voice has so much soul. I love when you really get into a song and put your hands out and spread your fingers and close your eyes and just kill it. Even if it's to Celine. I still effing love it.

16) You swear a lot when driving and clearly learned to drive in Massachusetts, but have learned to let people cross at crosswalks and sometimes even let cars in! You're growing!

15) Best movie buddy a girl could have.

14) When I dance around you never make me feel like I can't dance. Which, obviously, I can't.

13) You love your fam and light up when you tell stories about them.

12) You buy cards for friends months in advance, take pictures of things that remind you of them, and text when remembering inside jokes. You carry the people you love in your heart.

11) You're a wonderful pen-pal and getting mail from you is such a happy feeling.

10) Your eyes

9) Your laugh

8) Your kiss

7) Your heart

6) Your love

5) Your hopes

4) Your girlfriend (she's really something.)

3) The adventures we've shared together.

2) The adventures waiting in the wings. (wings! black swan!)

1) That you gave me a chance to love you.

Spending my Boston years with you is pretty much the best thing to ever happen to me.

You're my best friend, Mer. Happy birthday!

First Book Store Event!

Last Thursday marked the first time I talked about the book to a group of people I didn't know. The previous OES events have basically been love-fests of old friends, new friends, family, and buds of family. When I walked into the Harvard Book Store and recognized no one, I immediately started sweating. I meekly approached the information desk and said, "Hi, I'm Jess Martin... I'm, um, speaking here tonight..."

The night's MC Heather introduced herself and her friendliness put me at ease until she started talking about the works of the other writers who would be speaking that night. One man's story recounted the years spent being schooled under Mussolini's fascist regime after he was taken from his family.

Growing bright red, I quietly begged, "Please don't say I'm following him."

Heather shook her head. "He'll go last."

(Cue audible exhale.)

Could you imagine me following an 80-year-old Italian man and his incredible life story with a talk about why my parents are weird?

Anyway, while I was waiting for Meredith to park the car, I walked around the store airing out my sweaty shirt and ran into a familiar face! Marietta is in town visiting Amalia and was SO incredibly kind to come to the book store! It was such a nice surprise! Thanks again, Marietta!

And then, moments before we started, I saw a smiling bearded face looking at me and I was like, hmm, looks like Jimmy. And it was! Jimmy is the little brother of my best friend growing up and I have not seen him in YEARS. He and his girl Beth drove into town for the event and they're my new favorite couple. Funny, intelligent, well-spoken, adorable. And they both do improv. Hello?! Love. It was totally amazing of them to come! Thanks again you guys!

With that said, I was still a nervous wreck. But I like that I'll be able to remember how nervous/sweaty/shaky I was. It just shows that it was important to me. It was a fun experience and I'm totally grateful to the book store for the opportunity.

Here's the talk: Warning: It's Awkward.

A Book Is Born!

The event last night at Harvard Book Store was amazing and I particularly loved watching the printing of Open-Eyed Sneeze on Paige, the book-making robot from the future, but really from yesterday. Thanks again to everyone at the book store!

Had To.

When Mer and I arrived in Brockport, we drove down Main Street and she shouted for me to pull over and take a picture by the Strand. I've told her numerous times about the middle school ritual of going to see a movie with my friends and then running out to the phone to call my mom to pick me up so I wasn't the last one there.

Isn't it weird to remember life before cell phones? How did people ever get in touch with one another? I forget. When we were kids and went to the mall with my parents, we ALWAYS lost each other. It wasn't a trip to the mall for us without hearing a store-wide page over the intercom that said, "Martin family, please meet your father at the information kiosk."

Anyway, a pic of the Strand.