Sure enough, if you load ice cream onto a plastic spoon, pull back on the edge of the spoon, and then release it, the ice cream will fly foward.

Thank you, David, for allowing Danny to test this theory, and thank you, Starbucks, for providing napkins.

The following just occurred to me while sitting at Starbucks. When friends give me toys as gag gifts, I should donate them to a toy drive, such as Toys for Tots or Starbucks Holiday Angels. Naturally I’d wait until the year after the toys are received (because it’s nice to display them for a while and revel in the humor of my friends), but after a year, they’re just taking up space (the toys, not the friends). Donating them to a good cause is the right thing to do. Unless, of course, I can get a good price for them on eBay.

Well, after Survivor last night I didn’t go straight home. Chelsey had the video of Bat Boy with her and people were going back to 820 to watch it, so I joined them. I was really tired by midnight, though, so I went home just before intermission. I’ll have to see the rest of it some other time.

When I arrived at home, I began the arduous task of packing. I decided to just pick out a whole bunch of clothing that would generally match. It was a lot easier than setting aside specific outfits for specific days. Hopefully it’ll work. I just packed a bunch of t-shirts, some thermal henleys, a few button-down shirts, and a few pairs of jeans. Then I added socks and underwear, and I was done. Simple as that.

I think I got to sleep around two o’clock. I set my alarm for six, but I woke up at a quarter to six accidentally. I had a stomach ache when I awoke because I was too cold, so I decided to bundle up the covers and sleep some more. Apparently I snoozed my alarm several times in my sleep, though, because when I finally got out of bed it was already a quarter to seven. I was supposed to be at my parents’ house at seven. Fortunately I took a shower right before retiring, so I just needed to throw on my nicely laid-out clothes, place my bags in the car, and go.

We didn’t leave my parents’ house until seven thirty for some reason. Steve soon realized he had forgotten his passport at his apartment in Los Angeles, and his keys were at our parents’ house, so we had to turn around and drive back to Long Beach, then to Steve’s apartment, before driving to the airport.

The airport was relatively hassle-free. There were no long lines. We were able to use a kiosk to check in. It even let us scan our passports (or in my case, enter information from my birth certificate) to verify our citizenship. Then we walked up to a counter to check our bags, and we were on our way to security.

I didn’t get stopped at security, and I didn’t even have to take off my shoes or turn on my laptop. Everyone else in our party was stopped, though, and they had to deal with the magnetic wand thingy. Still, the line wasn’t long, so that wasn’t much of a hassle. Especially not for me, since I got to stand idly by and watch them pose like Jesus.

I got a hazelnut latte from the Starbucks in the terminal, and I noticed something fishy. The only Starbucks that charge sales tax are the ones in airports. I always pay the exact amount on the menu for my drinks at other locations, but when I’m in an airport, I find myself fishing around for pennies because the total is some odd amount. In this case, it was $4.01. How annoying is that? Fortunately, my dad was nearby and had a penny.

We boarded right after I got my drink, and we left right on time. I’m typing this on the plane.

Now, because we’ve had such good luck on the way up, I’m assuming that one of two things is going to happen: Either we get to Canada and have a hell of a time getting through immigration (presumably because of my really old birth certificate, which they often suspect is counterfeit), or we have a hell of a time leaving Canada on Monday. I’ll just have to wait and see.

I accidentally asked the girl at Nata’le Coffee for a “tall” toffee latte instead of a “single.” When I realized my error, I immediately corrected it and said, “I apologize for using Starbucks terminology.” And then I gave her a big tip. Hopefully she forgave me. Baristas are very sensitive to things like that.

The T-Mobile hotspot in this Starbucks is really weak. Fortunately there’s another (independent, possibly privately owned) hotspot somewhere outside the Starbucks, and I’m stealing my internet access from that right now because it’s giving off a much stronger signal. So I’d like to give a shout-out to whoever is running a wireless access point near the Starbucks on Birch Street in Brea. Thanks for the access, pal. If you’re ever in Costa Mesa, I’ll hook you up.

A recent outing at Starbucks gave me insight into the nature of coolness.

I went to starbucks with three other people. We got our drinks and sat down in the big, comfy chairs. I brought in my laptop because I needed to do some work, but after trying for a few minutes, I realized that the wireless connection in this particular Starbucks wasn’t strong enough to work if I was seated in the front of the store.

I promptly moved my hazelnut latte and my laptop to another table further back in the store, near the queue. This is when the coolness began. Because my friends were in the front of the store and I was in the rear, they kept coming over and saying things to me and then returning to the front of the store. To the customers in line, it looked as though I had come alone but that a lot of people who came into the store knew me. This gave me an ora of coolness.

Mike came over and kissed me on the forehead and told me he was leaving. Amanda walked by me on her way to the restroom and said, “Hey, stop checking me out,” and then laughed. And each time something like this happened, the customers in line saw me as almost a celebrity. It must have looked as though I (and my friends in the front of the store) were regulars who came in all the time. After all, if we happened to be there at the same time but in separate groups, the logical conclusion was that we must be there quite often and that this was a coincidental meeting.

So if you want to be cool, or more specifically if you want to “take over” a hangout and make it your own, the trick is to split up into groups and sit separately. Your imminent movement around the store and interaction with “other groups” will make you seem cool to those who don’t know you.

Of course, those who do know you will still know you’re uncool. I’ll have to figure out a solution for that one later.

There’s going to be a brand new Krispy Kreme just a few blocks from work.

The new location will officially be the closest to both my office and my home. I will no longer need to trek all the way to Orange or Laguna Hills for the sinful goodness of Krispy Kreme; it’ll be just down the street.

And to boot, there’s an In-n-Out on the same corner. It’ll officially be the tastiest, highest-calorie corner in town. Now all they need is a Starbucks, and they’ll be satisfying all of my cravings.

I went into Starbucks on Brookhurst and Ellis last Wednesday, and I noticed three people with laptops using the T-Mobile HotSpot high-speed wireless internet service, which is now available at most Starbucks locations.

Well, far be it from me to let three whole people have newer technology than me, so I went ahead and bought an 802.11b card, and I’m going to sign up for T-Mobile HotSpot. Finally I’ll be able to get lots of work done without being trapped at home or in the office.