Pure Libel

I Write Kids' Books, Crying Increases Tenfold

2005-12-27T02:33:00.000-06:00

I’ve often thought about attempting to write a book. I figure it beats having a real job, and it’s one of the only professions that wholly supports alcoholism. Look at some of the world’s best writers: Hemmingway, Hunter S. Thompson, Bukowski, anyone who’s Russian… They wrote some of their best novels while facedown in a bar, smearing ink onto cocktail napkins with an eloquence only brought on by dementia.

Sadly, my tangential mind only allows me to chase particular thoughts for short amounts of time, so I’m just not sure I could ever string together enough pages to form a cohesive story. Thankfully, one of my friends suggested that I write children’s books; that way, I can churn out 20 pages of pointless drivel, slap on a few pictures, add some trite moral to the story and call it a day.

What follows are some premises for children’s books that I’m thinking about producing.

#1 - Wendy is sad because her parents are always fighting. The counselors at her school tell her it isn’t her fault, and that sometimes grownups need to verbalize their feelings loudly. Wendy feels better about the situation, but then one day her parents get divorced and she knows it’s all her fault. This is confirmed when her father tells her, “Your mom’s been a frigid bitch ever since you were born” before he storms out of the house, never to be heard from again.
Working title: Daddy Drinks Because You Cry

#2 - Little Timmy knows he isn’t supposed to go into Daddy’s tool shed by himself, but sometimes he’s just overrun with curiosity. Just a little peak won’t hurt anybody. But this notion is quickly foiled when Timmy accidentally turns on the circular saw and severs his hand from his arm. Though faint from loss of blood, Timmy now knows better than to ever repeat such a folly.
Working Title: Power Tools and Children: A Love Story

#3 - John has begun hanging out with a new crowd at school. Sometimes he feels pressured into doing things he knows aren’t right, like stealing or vandalizing cars. After a feeble attempt to impress his new companions, John becomes overwhelmed with guilt and tells on his friends. They all get in trouble, and, more importantly, they beat John’s ass. John learns the importance of loyalty the hard way and is confined to a wheelchair and liquids for six months.
Working Title: The Boy Who Tattled And Got His Jaw Wired Shut

I can see literacy rates spiking all over the country. What do you think? Would you read my books to your kids?

A Modest Proposal

2005-12-12T14:19:00.000-06:00

I’ve always wondered why babies are such a big deal. Inexplicably, people tend to speak of babies in high regard. I just don’t get it…

By law, they can’t even work. How’s my child going to support me if he can’t even work in a factory or at least man the counter of the local liquor store? I’ve never really wanted to move to Laos, but I may be forced to in order to combat these ridiculous child labor laws.

What? Babies are cute? They shit themselves! And then they don’t even have the decency to clean it up. That’s just lazy. A child of mine would clean himself up just as soon as he’s done dusting the ceiling fans while standing on that precariously rickety old ladder. And remember, the ingested asbestos makes him tough.

People these days are too easy on their kids. If your kid has not cleaned the house, cooked you dinner, made you money, and is not waiting for you at the door with a rent check in his hand that he owes as payment for your generousity in allowing him to live in your house, you should lose your right to breed.

Jonathan Swift had it right in his 1729 essay; we should eat children for nourishment. They’d no longer be a burden to their parents, and the unrest in overcrowded cities would be quelled. Never mind actually contesting the underlying issues that lead to recent rioting in Parisian ghettos and elsewhere. Eat them. Besides, they’re delicious.

When Life Gets Too Hard, Just Stop Living!

2005-11-22T01:55:00.000-06:00

I think if I were ever to work for a suicide hotline, the population would shrink in size quite rapidly. I just don’t think I’d be real persuasive while convincing someone not to end their life.

Wait, what? You’re wife cheated on you? Holy shit man, that is the single worst thing that could possibly happen to anyone ever! Jesus, I don’t know what I’d do. . . God, I bet you just want to impale yourself on a rusty spike just so you can’t feel pain anymore. I bet you…
Hello? Hello? Oh shit. . .

You lost your job? Wait, for the third time this year? Hahaha, oh man, that’s pathetic. And I use the term “man” loosely because no real man would ever get fired from a job three times in one year while his pregnant wife and three children are starving and using the kitchen chairs for firewood since you can’t pay the heat bill. Oh crap, I’ve got someone on the other line, I’d better go…

So you’re depressed, huh? You haven’t been out of bed in two weeks? Wow, that’s bad; I bet it’s all you can do to keep from smothering yourself with your pillow. I’m sure at a time like this they just seem so inviting, a pleasant escape from this crazy world which offers us no control, no solace in time of need, no comfort when the walls are caving in all around you. Well, if your mind’s made up there’s no use in trying to change it… Good luck!

What? Oh, you dialed the wrong number? Wow, do you really lack the dexterity to properly type digits into a phone? If I were you I'd probably have already strangled myself with the phone cord...

Give me a call sometime. I’m here for you.

Jaywalking: 25 to Life

2005-11-18T21:34:00.000-06:00

The Constitution protects Americans from “cruel and unusual punishment,” and I think that is a damn shame. I was born at a relatively young age, and I’ve always known the possible consequences to my actions. As a child, if I misbehaved I might be spanked or grounded. If I rob a bank tomorrow, I’ll go to jail. But therein lies the flaw, predictability; if the only promise of punishment is fickle irregularity sadistically doled out on a judge’s whim, man would be less likely to commit crimes. Let’s discuss…

Grand Theft (robbing a bank or stealing a car)
-One day the punishment for this common crime is jail time, but the next, the punishment consists of you and three large men locked in a room, broomsticks, icy hot and a cheese grater. The sheer possibilities are endless, though definitely not painless. Let’s see if you ever steal anything again.

Homicide
-Punishment for this crime can vary between significant jail time, death by lethal injection, death by paper cuts or mandatory conversion and inculcation into the Mormon faith where you spend the rest of your days wearing a white shirt and a tie and riding your bicycle door to door handing out inane materials to unwilling strangers who subsequently buy a new door complete with peep hole and two deadbolts.

Drug Possession
-You will be elected to the United States Congress, unless, of course, you are a poor minority.

White Collar Crimes (embezzlement, for example)
-Forget the minimum security country clubs complete with tennis courts and conjugal visits. You, creative accountant, will be given season tickets to the WNBA and forced to attend. Or, perhaps you’ll be locked in a room with seven people over age 65 who will repeatedly tell you the same stories over and over again until you break.

Jay Walking
-A small fine or community service is a possibility. So is the new job of Professional Sponge Bath Giver at the retirement home down the street. Let’s see how often you cross outside the crosswalk now, asshole.

Those are just a few examples of punishments not being consistent with their corresponding crime and being better because of it. Basically, I want to be a judge.

Feel free to comment with some possible ideas of your own.

Drinking Impairs Judgment Not Actually a Myth

2005-11-07T01:01:00.000-06:00

11pm: Second bar of the night, the bartender happily pours us shots of whiskey and 151, and we greedily down them with gusto. As time and booze fly, so does our decision making. Right out the window.

12am: New location, not really sure how we got there. Somehow we’re talking to a group of girls who aren’t really girls so much as they’re old women. Two of them take a liking to Matt and me, and in our drunken haze, we failed to see their walkers and oxygen tanks.

1:00am: By this point, in attempt to eradicate the age discrepancy, Matt is 29 and, when asked, says his birthday was “a loooong time ago.” Well done, my friend; you really handled that one well. I think I was a 28 year old “crime fighter.” I realized later they probably thought I was a policeman or something, but at the time, I was convinced they knew I was a superhero.

2:00am: The bar is closing, and the two women, inexplicably enamored with us, want us to accompany them to their homes. We mention needing to use the facilities before we depart, and we go hide in the back of the bar, hoping they’ll forget about us and leave. The bar manager finds us huddled closely behind a pillar and mentions that this bar isn’t a “haven for couples attempting a quickie.” Awkward... We’re promptly escorted to the door, where we find our female companions patiently waiting.

2:15am: Too intoxicated to run away, we walk them to their car, a 350Z.
Matt: “Man, these chicks have money. I could use a sugar mama.”
Me: “Well, it’s easy to have money when you were around to invest in Microsoft.”
Matt: “It’s also easy to have a disease when you were around for the Black Plague, so be careful.”
Me: “I think the formaldehyde they’ve been preserved in reduces the risk of disease.”

2:30am: Staving off rape, we finally freed ourselves and headed back in the direction of our car. We proceed to urinate on a minivan. The owner of the van happens to be inside the vehicle. Strangely, he doesn’t see the humor in the situation… We run off and stumble upon some kid eating a burrito, and I ask him if he got it from Wendy’s. I was completely serious. Last night, I would have sworn to anybody that Wendy’s makes the best damn burritos in town, and I was ready to fight anyone who disagreed.

That’s pretty much my last memory of the night. After rehashing as many memories as possible, I learned a valuable lesson from all this: Matt and I really shouldn’t be allowed to go out without chaperones.

But I Don't Want to Graduate

2005-11-01T22:22:00.000-06:00

Today I registered for college classes for the last time. Ever. I cannot believe that it’s all coming to an end. After I graduate in May, I will be thrust into employment, something I approach with severe reluctance. If college and previous work experience is prophetic of things to come, then I think I just may make the worst employee in history. Here’s why:

1. I am perennially late to anything beginning before 11am, noon if I’ve been drinking. I guess I’d better just scrap 11 and keep it at noon…

2. I can’t sit still for more than 10 minutes, unless I’m asleep at my desk. At my last job, I took a lap around the office every few minutes, usually stopping off to harass other coworkers. If I can’t concentrate, why should they?

3. I’ve been known to be “that guy” at office functions, usually eschewing all restraint and class and just making sure that I have an alcohol-fueled good time.

4. I’m an idiot savant who can recall sports history and statistics with disturbing accuracy, but I can’t send a fax or figure out the phones of any job I’ve ever had. This may also be a good time to point out that I don’t listen when people talk to me.

5. I have the attention span of a Hey! Look at that squirrel!

I think my new plan will be to fail all my classes in my last semester so I have to stay in college awhile. Perhaps the workforce will be ready for me and I’ll be ready for it when I’m 30.

Forget Prosthetics, Bring Back the Peg Leg

2005-10-28T01:02:00.000-05:00

I was at a restaurant the other night, and I saw a man with a prosthetic leg. He was wearing shorts, which seems pretty adventurous to me. I was beginning to feel a pang of pity, as I could not imagine what it would be like to lose an appendage, especially a leg. But then, I was inundated with images of pirates and peg legs. Seriously, how cool were they? Pirates walked about with a wooden leg, and no one dared give them shit for it. Hell, a wooden leg was a sign of respect in the pirate world. Though it was difficult to sneak up on anyone, seafarers knew better than to mess with these guys.

I think pirates were the preeminent display of evolution; we’ve merely been regressing ever since. Pirates were such men that they almost died out from scurvy because their diets consisted of grog, sharks and human children. No sissy vitamin C for those guys.

So, the next time you see someone with a prosthetic limb, kindly suggest that he scrap the plastic and opt for wood, nature’s finest tribute to our friends, the pirates.

Unwitting Comparison Nearly Leaves me Castrated

2005-10-18T19:51:00.000-05:00

The other day the term “ubersexual” was used on a major morning show. (I wasn’t watching that sensationalist trash, I just heard about it from others). Apparently, they defined “ubersexual” as a man who is manly but is still cultural and enjoys things like fine wines and cigars. I was thinking, ‘hell, I’m a man, but I do love wine and cigars, so perhaps I’m an ubersexual.’ Then I read J. Walter Thompson’s list of the ten leading ubersexuals in America, and I nearly castrated myself with a syphilitic saw blade for even considering this.

Bono? Are they serious? Bono, the same self-righteous asshole who wears stupid blue glasses while performing cookie cutter music and promoting environmental conservation while flying around in his fuel-guzzling, nature-raping private jet was number one on JWT’s list? I want to fight someone.

And, as if “metrosexual” were not enough of a hot coal to my crotch, now “ubersexual” has taken hold and is gathering acceptance in the mainstream media. I searched for it online and found an alarming number of instances of its use. I’m nearly homicidal just thinking about this. Regardless, I’d like to push a replacement term into everyone’s vernacular. You’ve most likely heard it before. The term is “gay.” The only problem is that I don’t want to unfairly group gay people into the realm of revulsion occupied by “metrosexuals.”

Suggestions are welcome. Blunt objects to Bono’s face are appreciated.

I Visit the Nation's Capital, Leave it Tainted

2005-10-17T01:41:00.000-05:00

I visited Washington, DC this past weekend. It got off to a rather dubious start, as I was stopped, harassed and searched because I had a corkscrew in my shaving bag. What’s the big deal? I never know when I’m going to need that valuable resource; however, it led to the National Security Threat Level being raised to red upon me setting foot in DC. Typical…

I stayed with a friend of mine and went out drinking with him and a few girls. Somewhere after double digits, I proclaimed that I would vomit later that evening. My “one last drink” was a red bull and vodka. It was served to me in a pint glass. 8oz of Red Bull, about 6oz of vodka, and ice. Only $5 for that heart stopping monstrosity of heavenly goodness. I’ll pause while you all rush to buy a plane ticket to DC…

In usual fashion, my prophesy came true and I vomited all over these girl’s bathroom. I had been introduced to them 3 hours prior. I never was one for good first impressions.

The next day while doing some sight seeing, I noted that the Washington Monument is probably the largest phallic representation anywhere. God Bless America. Minutes later, I fell headlong into the 10th anniversary of the Million Man March. Wow. It was powerful stuff, and I was honored to be there, regardless of the fact that my dumb self stumbled unknowingly into its midst. Several people glared at us, the only white people in a crowd estimated at 300,000. We were even interviewed by some progressive think-tank organization. What follows is a transcript of the interview.

Her: So… What brings you folks here? Hell, do you even know where you are?
Me: Yeah, we’re participating in an important movement for the African American community and for people as a whole.
Her: You do realize you are white?
Me: …I guess that explains why I can’t dance.
Her: Usually when you see three white people in a crowd of blacks it’s called apartheid.
Me: We gotta go.

Oh well, I was happy to be there.

That night we went to Bricksellers, a bar boasting over 900 different beers. After consuming several delightful draughts, I became disappointed at the messy, hazy typing on the beer menu. It’s odd I hadn’t noticed it earlier in the evening.

All in all, DC is a great place, and I had a great trip. It’s just unfortunate that all my vacations lead to me needing a vacation. And organ replacement surgery. And a lawyer.

A Day in the Life

2005-08-19T16:53:00.000-05:00

I hear my alarm sound in the morning, and with a pang of self pity, I realize this is the best moment of my next 10 hours. It's not best in the sense that I enjoy waking up to start my day; it's merely the best moment available since work is looming in the near future. And let's face it, work sucks.

Often, as I wobble with fatigue and, quite possibly, delirium tremens after a hard night, I decide a short nap in the shower is a good idea. I then wake up under a deluge of cold water as I realize I've been asleep for 30 minutes and I'll be late for work.

I usually skip shaving before work because I can't trust myself to hold a razor that close to my jugular at 7am, knowing my day will be filled with 9 hours of me trying to feign working as papers pile up around my half sleeping form.

The subway ride to work is peppered with an assortment of people most likely dredged from the bottom of the Hudson River. If I'm feeling nice, I might appease an old woman by giving up my seat, but I usually just offer to fight her for it. Old people go down really easily if you just kick their canes, causing loss of balance and hilarity for all onlookers.

The first hour of work is usually a struggle to stay asleep amidst the cacophony of people bustling to and fro. "Morning people" should be shot in the face with a tranquilizer dart so they understand what it feels like to be the rest of us.

The rest of the day is all about anticipation. At 10am I start to get excited about lunch. By 10:30, I think about handing in my two-weeks notice because it's only 10:30. By 2:00, I'm satisfied after a decent lunch and really just want to take a nap. I'd fit in great in Mexico, where siestas are encouraged. I also look fabulous in a sombrero.

4:00 to 6:00 is the longest two hour stretch of the day. Seriously, time just stands still as my mind longs for the sweet serenity of my peaceful home. Either that or I crave a drink so badly I begin to syphon toner from the copy machine, killing enough brain cells to where I'm no longer aware of my captivity.

As 6:00 sluggishly rolls around, my heart skips a beat with joy. Or maybe because of the toner.. But regardless, I head home and attempt to forget everything that happened that day. Sadly, the vicious cycle that it is, I have to do it all over again tomorrow. But in accordance with my mind's wishes, I do everything I can at night to forget the loathsome sound that will soon alert me that it's morning, and another day awaits.

My Life as a Career Criminal

2005-07-05T19:51:00.000-05:00

There is something intriguing about one's first trip to jail. I suppose it can be considered a rite of passage for all young men, something all should endure for the sake of experience. In the least, it very well may scare you enough so that you never return. As for myself, the experience was pretty decent. Being a dumb kid from Texas, I think my time in a New York City jail went about as well as could be expected.

My Friday night was nothing short of incredible; my friend Dean comes into town, and 5 hours later, we are both sitting handcuffed in a squad car. The officer who arrested me was frustrated that I was more concerned about my cell phone breaking--which was a result of him slamming me into a wall--than I was about being arrested. That got things off to a rough start, but hey, I was mad--that phone had Tetris! An hour after that, we were thrown into a community cell with 6 other real criminals, one who appeared ready and willing to make us men, in a non-traditional, rather painful sort of way. My other cellmates were pretty damn jovial for being locked up. They passed the time by continually telling terrible jokes. I soon felt forlorn at the confiscation of my belt and shoe laces, as death would have been a welcome reprieve from Cellmate Comedy Hour. And then there was the toothless inmate who spouted philosophy at all who'd listen. I didn't mind; it's not often you meet a man who thinks he's a direct descendant of Jesus and has holy blood. But we both declined repeatedly his invitation to taste it, with only a slight hesitation after he told us it tastes like wine.

The process of fingerprinting and mug shots was pretty interesting. I didn't really know what to do during my mug shot, but I knew I wanted it to be memorable--something to send out as a Christmas card some year after imbibing too much holiday cheer and eschewing all regard for social prudence and respect for in-laws. I closed one eye and snarled at the camera. Dean smiled as big as he could. Different philosophies, both odd enough to cause annoyance to the nonplussed cops.

At one point, the guards came by with cigarettes and egg sandwiches, which they dished out to each of us like military rations. However, I don't smoke, and I rarely eat egg sandwiches, let alone ones tossed onto a disgusting jail floor like they were feeding pigs. So anyway, after eating two egg sandwiches and smoking a couple cigarettes, the cellmate bonding really kicked in. Dean and I, of course, had to appear more criminal and ferocious than we truly are to fit in with the drug dealers and violent men. Rather than discussing our actual offense, which was rather trivial, we spoke of grand theft auto and assaults. It was at this point that, interest piqued, two of our fellow prisoners brought up their amateur boxing careers, ended prematurely by years of prison time. This made us quiet down a bit, hoping neither of us would meet an untimely demise at the hands of Mike Tyson in the corner.

Being only slight menaces to society, Dean and I were released after about 6-7 hours, while the other true thugs stayed behind, awaiting transport to a federal pound-me-in-the-ass-prison. Before being issued our citation and court appearance ticket, we asked for copies of our mug shots, since nothing says "I love you" like a life-size mug shot given to your mom for Christmas. We assumed these would be public record and handed over to us, but we were merely disregarded and kicked out onto the front steps, with no idea as to our location.

Per our cellmates' request, we headed straight to the nearest bar and knocked back a few in their honor, also cleansing jail and fatigue from our bodies with the antibacterial and analgesic effects of alcohol.

Jail was a pretty good time; honestly, I never knew I could spend a night in jail without pissing myself or being knifed to death. We got food, drink and drugs; that's a typical night for most. If only the locale had been nicer, I'd have no complaints at all.

Booze Fest 2005

2005-06-23T18:49:00.000-05:00

There's something about drinking on the company tab that really brings out the best in people. As this was a new experience for me, I took full advantage, only drinking the finest beer and liquors and downing exotic, expensive shots. For about six straight hours. Perhaps I have too much faith in my fellow man, but I just assumed everyone else would follow suit, celebrating the free drinking with gusto. Then I noticed people leaving around 11 or 12 because "we have work tomorrow morning" and I soon realized that I had an upward battle that could render me nothing but victorious: compensating for the others' lack of drinking by steeply multiplying my own.

After the drinking came to a close, I decided it would be a grand idea to walk home through Central Park at two in the morning. My accomplice, a girl I had just met, seemed to think it was a bad idea, but at that point, I was beyond reasoning with. I simply mentioned that in my current state I could feel no pain, so I wasn't worried about suffering bodily injury at the hands of thugs. I think she felt very reassured.

While we managed to make it home without incident, I still managed to be a jackass by sending drunken e-mails to two of my bosses at three in the morning. I half expected to see a pink slip on my desk when I arrived early that morning, but rather, all I found was no will to live as I stared at a computer screen for nine hours of my day, contemplating suicide as a reprieve from the worst hangover of my life.

As I stumbled through the day, people greeted me with the standard salutation,"Hey man, I didn't think you of all people would make it into work today" or the just as common, "Kevin, I thought we left you for dead at the bar." The greetings reached a climax when my boss, who I rarely see and who didn't attend the party, came by my desk and said, "I hear you had a pretty good time last night. I hope you didn't bankrupt the company." Oh well, what they lost in dollars they easily made up for in employee moral.

All in all, it was a good night. I just hope I get invited back to the next company function.

New York, New York

2005-06-11T15:30:00.000-05:00

I'm living in New York for the summer. It's quite a place. You can buy a "Rolex" for $5 but a beer costs 8. Which is especially disconcerting since you have to pay federal, state, and city income taxes. Perhaps I can use my first paycheck to bail mysef out of debtor's prison.

The juxtaposition of stores in incredible. In one small area I can eat at a posh restaurant, go next door to get my fix of liquor, guns, and porn, then go next door again and shop for expensive clothing and jewelry. I can get everything I'd ever need from one city block.

I think I might take up smoking just so I can breathe some fresher air.

The subway is fun. I usually talk to myself and pick someone's pocket just to fit in.

The park across the street from where I live is rife with drugdealers. I'd love to go just one day without being approached to buy drugs... and then realizing with despair that I have no money.

All in all, it's a great city. Come visit me.

My Guide to Surviving Final Exams

2005-05-06T01:21:00.000-05:00

Don't let this be you.

The time for final exams has come, and I cannot help but laugh as I watch overwhelmed students scurry to libraries and administer caffeine intravenously in the futile attempt of making up for a semester’s worth of slacking in a week. Below I have compiled a sure-fire guide to surviving final exams. Take heed.

1. Don’t worry about disappointing your parents with sub par grades. It just adds undue stress. Besides, they don’t love you anyway.

2. Take up drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. This not only increases your chances of passing your exams, but you look really cool studying in coffee shops while smoking and listening to your ipod.

3. Sleep? Who has the time? Alcohol relaxes the body and invigorates the mind just as effectively.

4. If your exam consists of more than 50 questions or is not multiple choice, don’t bother showing up. Fail the class, and cut your losses.

5. If your professor is a woman and you go to a liberal university such as my own, title your essay “My Struggle in a Male Dominated World,” regardless of the class, regardless of your gender. You’re guaranteed an A.

6. If you’re a freshman, exams are optional, regardless of what everyone tells you. So just head home early and don’t fret.

7. Become religious if you are not already. God loves hearing you whine about how hard your classes are; and how you’ve worked hard all year (read: skipped class and threw beer bottles at the homeless); and how you really need good grades because you want to go to med school; and how your teacher is really mean and you know you’re smarter than the 63% you’re currently pulling down.

8. If you need an instant stress reliever, reenact the scene from Office Space in a computer lab on campus.

9. You didn’t go to class so you have no notes to study. You never bought the book, so you cannot read. Don’t worry; feel liberated. This will be the easiest test you’ve ever had to study for by default.

10. Subscribe to the theory of preemptive attack. Drop out before you fail out.

I hope you find this guide helpful. It may not improve your study habits or overall wellbeing, but it won’t improve your grades either. Wait…

The Happiest Hour of All

2005-04-12T04:36:00.000-05:00

Do you ever have a day looming ahead of you where you know that once you awake things can only get worse from there?

Today was brutal, as I spent about 12 hours on campus. Luckily, I had two hours between engagements to sleep in one of the libraries. In my three years at UT, I have yet to check out a book, but I have a favorite pillow. Upon awakening, I attended several more hours of class, a research study, and a lecture. Then I made time for Happy Hour, which is my favorite hour of the day. Initially, I contemplated attending Happy Hour at a local gas station. $2 a gallon is a lot to pay for gas, but when you use it for the blindness-inducing, death-expediting effects of methanol, it seems like quite a deal. Instead, I went to a bar and drank $2 pints. While there, me and two friends got our picture taken for an ad in the newspaper. Apparently the bar wants their best customers as spokesmen. My mom will be so proud.

The Real World Invades My Hometown

2005-03-31T01:39:00.000-06:00

So I met the newest cast of MTV’s Real World the other day. This upcoming season will be filmed in Austin, and I found the cast holed up in a bar on the infamous 6^th street in Austin. They were pretty much the typical cast: a couple white people, a black guy, a gay guy, a self-proclaimed societal outcast and a hermaphrodite in a wheelchair. The alpha male of the group had about as much charm as a kick in the nuts, but every girl in the bar, being a whore for attention, was all over him. Of course, I really can’t say much, seeing as how I was the guy who kept walking in front of the camera, nonchalantly going to the bar every 2 minutes. Ostensibly, I was just drowning my organs in alcohol, but my actions served a higher purpose. I really just want to be the guy the producers have to cut out of every scene because he ruins the shot. Here’s hoping my mission was a success.

Put Your Shirt Back On

2005-02-06T15:32:00.000-06:00

So I attended Mardi Gras festivities this past weekend, and I may never leave the house again. I suppose I've been spoiled by the Girls Gone Wild commercials that appear on every cable channel late at night because what I saw was thoroughly disappointing. Anytime a girl wanted to earn some beads, guys would run to the scene like vultures to a fallen animal, cameras in hand. It was quite pathetic, seeing as how those attention-craving whores were usually the attractive equivalent of a rhino. Also, the video camera wielding 50 year-old men were pretty disconcerting. My only hope was that those dirty old men would push through a crowd only to find their daughters on the receiving end of a new beaded necklace.

Glue is a Food Group Too

2005-02-04T16:11:00.000-06:00

Today I had to observe kids playing at a daycare for my Play in Early Childhood Development class. Yeah, it sounded like a blowoff class to me too... But as I sat there in a miniature chair feeling like a giant and watching 4-5 year-old kids running around, I realized this class must be a cover-op for pedophiles. All the while, I tried to appear as least hungover as possible, but every time I breathed another kid hit the deck with second-hand intoxication. Oh well, eating paste was a nice perk, so I'll probably go back next week to get my fix.

Why Am I Here?

2005-01-26T13:09:00.000-06:00

Today, I asked myself that universal question, “Why am I here?” That was my first mistake. My second was attempting to find an answer, which I just couldn't do. I decided that I really don’t perform any sort of service to my fellow man. I haven’t cured any diseases or invented anything useful. I haven’t written anything of merit. Basically, what’s listed below is all I have to offer.

I can bong a beer pretty well

I don’t have any known STDs

I have the uncanny ability to bounce quarters into shot glasses and toss ping pong balls into plastic cups.

I go to a reputable university
- But I lived across the street from a library for an entire year without knowing it.

I became an ordained minister of the Universal Life Church one night while drinking in my dorm room.
-If you're getting married, I may come in handy; perhaps I am useful afterall.

I have achieved whole, new levels of apathy and procrastination never before explored.

I can memorize sports statistics and movie quotes but not my class schedule.

Depressing, isn’t it? That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement. I need to find something to live for. Maybe I’ll get a dog.

The Dangers of Inbreeding

2005-01-20T14:33:00.000-06:00

Riding public transportation in Austin is always an adventure. The student buses which navigate to and from campus are meant to accommodate students; however, the drivers rarely discriminate between the student donning a backpack and the homeless man carrying a grocery sack and a flask. On most days, I feel like I’m witnessing a public service announcement warning against the dangers of inbreeding. Today, a man stepped onto the bus with a dwindling six-pack of tallboys and sat next to me. He soon promised everyone who would listen (me) that he would someday wed Paris Hilton. After a few minutes, it became apparent he was not going to offer me a beer, so I wished him the best of luck with that goal and exited at the next stop.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

2005-01-18T13:06:00.000-06:00

I'm never going to class again; something ridiculous happens every time I go. The latest in my series of unfortunate events...

After being blatantly stared at by the girl next to me in class, this is what transpires.

HER : (intense staring)
ME: Um, hi.
HER: Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that you look a lot like Nick Nolte.
ME: ........
HER: You do! Has no one ever told you that before?
ME: Well, no. Nick Nolte is three times my age.
HER: Oh, wait... Well, you look like the guy married to Jessica Simpson.
ME: That would be Nick Lachey..
HER: Yeah, that's who I meant.

Nick Nolte and Nick Lachey

Due to their uncanny resemblance, I'm sure this mistake is made often... The Nick on the right looks fairly normal, while the Nick on the left looks like he got electrocuted while someone took a shit on his face.

The World Has Turned Upside Down

2005-01-11T15:47:00.000-06:00

So did you hear that Brad and Jen broke up? Maybe you are like me, and when asked that question responded with, “Is that a band?” But for the majority of the population it seems this is actually a real issue. When I opened up the Dallas Morning News the other morning, I expected to see more news and visuals of the tsunami that ravished Indonesia, Thailand, and Sri Lanka, or perhaps news from the political arena; but I was instead bombarded with the “travesty” out of Hollywood. Rampant speculation and genuine interest have made the separation a pervasive issue, even in the mainstream media. Personally, I’d rather gouge out my eyes with a dull fork than read another sensationalist story about celebrities. Who’s with me?

Unlike some of my other posts, I doubt this one will garner much criticism, as the only people who truly care about Hollywood relationships are illiterate, and, therefore, do not read my blog.

New Year's Resolutions

2005-01-04T16:42:00.000-06:00

In my never-ending quest for self-improvment, I have made several New Year's resolutions which I believe will better me as a person. I advise all of you to take heed and make some resolutions of your own. If you are unoriginal, just do mine.

1. I will eat one bald eagle per week just to spite every member of PETA.

2. I will prove through endless field studies that, while moderate drinking may be beneficial to one's health, excessive drinking is even more beneficial.

3. I will personally dropkick every "guy" I see wearing a pink, tight fitting LaCoste shirt with the collar flipped up.

4. I will boycott French Fries to protest France's paltry donation to the Tsunami Relief Fund.

Comment on how you plan to better yourselves in this new year. And trust me, there is room for improvement.

My Christmas List: The Abridged Version

2004-12-18T03:28:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa,

Please keep the following gift ideas in mind when (if) you visit my house this year.

1. Machete
- This has supreme practical value, as I could use it every day to fight through the crowds constantly navigating around campus.

2. Personal Chef
- There’s only so much Ramen one man can take. Also, with my penchant for lighting the kitchen on fire, I figure this is a way to prolong my life a bit.

3. Less sweaters, more turkey legs

4. The Osama bin Laden action figure recently recalled from stores
- I will practice castration voodoo on that bastard.

5. One of those hats that secures two beers to my head and has two straws conveniently descending towards my awaiting mouth.

6. A new liver.

The above list could go on forever, but I figured I'd cut it short after the necessities were mentioned. Just in case Santa doesn't come through, feel free to send me some of these items yourselves. Comment on some of the thingsyou would like for Christmas this year; perhaps we can arrange a deal.

Bathroom Etiquette for Men

2004-12-04T15:40:00.000-06:00

UPDATED 12/19/04
Ok guys, I am really beginning to have a problem with some of the faux pas that I see before me every time I venture into a public bathroom. What follows is a list of nonnegotiable rules which must be adhered to at all times.

1. KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD. Nothing good can come of wandering eyes in such a place as this. Penalty upon infraction is a good 'ol fashioned eye gouging.

2. No touching. Period. Besides the unsanitary conditions, there is something eerie about a guy, regardless of your relationship, wanting to shake your hand in the bathroom. Just imagine either where his hand has been or where it's going. It's a lose-lose situation.

3. Talking is unnecessary. The bathroom is an asylum for many men, hiding out from their wives during a rather grueling session at the mall or from their bosses during work-related crises. However, the following two phrases are always admissable: "Do you know the score of the game?" and, "Hey buddy, you need a beer?"

4. As displayed in the above picture, always take the urinal of greatest distance from another man as possible. If no urinal is available without someone on either side, hold it. I could spend hours in a stalled elevator, but put me inbetween the shoulders of two men as they touch themselves, and claustrophobia sets in severely and operations cease.

UPDATE: 12/19/04
5. In step with the famous Stockton to Malone pick and roll is the famous technique of the
"pinch and roll." This technique, name patented by me, of course, is a surefire way to avoid dribbling on one's shoes post urination. Pinch it, roll it, and be happy.

While this is the difinitive list of male bathroom etiquette, suggestions are welcome.

I'd Choose Castration Over Reality TV Anyday

2004-11-29T01:20:00.000-06:00

Whoa! Too extreme for me!

They say that smoking a cigarette reduces your life by 7 minutes each time you smoke one. Well, if Reality TV gets any worse, I plan on smoking 3 packs a day just to hurry the process up a bit.

The Bachelor
- If the show were renamed “money grubbing whores vie for the interest of an attention craving half-wit,” I still wouldn’t watch it, but I’d at least commend the show for its honesty.

The Real World
- This show really needs to be more representative of the population. I’m offended by its homogenous make-up. So what if there are males and females. Who cares if there are blacks, whites, Asians, Hispanics, and everything between? Heterosexuals and homosexuals? Big deal! If the black, gay, formerly abused anorexic is not also in a wheelchair due to a rare disease, then it’s not diverse enough. Back to the drawing board, “Real” World.

The Biggest Loser
- If you are not familiar with this show, very overweight participants attempt to lose weight. The catch phrase of the show states that “in this show, the biggest loser is the winner.” I think we can be assured that this is one of those contests where there are no winners, just exploited hungry people. Besides, where’s the challenge? The people on this show are so large that brushing their teeth occasionally would probably result in shedding a few pounds.

Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
- Until this show came along, never in my life had TV surrounded me with enough estrogen to render me impotent. They say the color pink lowers one’s sperm count; well, if this is the case, then that guy Carson has completely depleted all my little swimmers. Besides, I am perfectly happy not knowing one name brand from another and wearing brown shoes with a black belt. The sad thing is that the ridiculous parody, Straight Plan for the Gay Man, is actually much worse.

Feel free to comment on your own least favorite shows. Or hell, comment on why you think I’m an idiot for criticizing your favorite show, and how it makes you feel small inside to know that not everyone watches Extreme Makeover while recording Wife Swap on the other TV.

Pants are Optional

2004-11-22T21:50:00.000-06:00

Lately I’ve come to believe that Thanksgiving is a truly underappreciated holiday. I will try to do it justice in the following entry of reasons why Thanksgiving is great.

1. In my family, at least, pants are optional at the dinner table.

2. It beats the hell out of Easter.

3. Oddly, it’s a holiday where we eat food which we learned to grow from a people we systematically eliminated. It’s the equivalent of Germans having a holiday where they eat matzo balls.

4. You can finally turn on the Christmas lights which have been up on your porch all year long.

5. At no other time can one perform such oddities with a dead animal and not risk arrest.

6. Pie

7. Intense fighting over the wishbone really brings out the sibling bonding.

8. The multiple course meal is reminiscent of the days of Roman vomitoriums

9. Much like Boxing Day, no one really knows why this holiday even exists. But I hear no complaints.

Feel free to leave comments on other reasons why you love the holiday commonly referred to as "the one before Christmas."

The Quickest Way to Lose an Appendage

2004-11-18T02:23:00.001-06:00

People often tell me that I hate an unusually large number of insignificant things, and that I will probably shorten my life by worrying about everything. Man, I hate those people. Regardless, what follows is a list of acronyms/words/sayings that make me lose sleep at night. Use them at your own peril.

LOL (laugh out loud)
How does one know that you are, in fact, laughing out loud? This is an acronym usually championed by 14 year old girls. Typing this in a message will result in me visiting your house and attempting to perform a sex change operation on you using naught but rusted tweezers.

Kewl (cool)
Ok, jackass. Regardless of how “kewl” you think your new Lord of the Rings lunchbox is, you just butchered the spelling of a one-syllable word. AND, it’s still four letters long; at least acronyms can argue efficiency.

TMI (too much information)
This saying usually follows someone giving torrid details that the recipient would rather not hear. I’ve always believed that a swift kick to the cornea solves most problems better than annoying acronyms.

I have more to include, but I’m getting angry just typing this. Feel free to include your own hated sayings in the comments.

Musings

2004-11-15T01:15:00.002-06:00

By going to www.queerabs.com, you too can have “Queer Abs.” I don’t know about you, but my heterosexual abs are just fine, thanks.

Scientists are claiming that Giant Squids have overtaken humans in terms of bio-mass. I don’t see what the problem is. Calamari for everyone!

Minute Rice is a sham! It took me at least ten minutes to cook the rice and another ten just to find where we keep the pots.

Ambiguous drug ads are ridiculously annoying. But regardless, if you have any problem whatsoever, make sure you call your doctor to learn more about Nexium, the “Purple Pill.” No one knows what the hell it does, but it just may cure what ails you.

The American Music Awards, which offers nothing exciting or entertaining whatsoever, is really just a reason for old has-beens to get up in the morning and feel special again.

If you don’t have time to cook an elaborate Thanksgiving Day dinner, do not fret. Jones Soda is here to save the day. Enjoy such delicious flavors as Turkey & Gravy Soda, Green Bean Casserole Soda, Mashed Potato & Butter Soda, Fruitcake Soda, and Cranberry Soda. Impressive. An entire holiday in a bottle.

I Befriended an Androgyne

2004-11-09T19:45:00.000-06:00

an·drog·y·nous
adj.
1.Being neither distinguishably masculine nor feminine, as in dress, appearance, or behavior.

Today in class a guy sat next to me and struck up some friendly conversation. He was pretty nice, and we talked for a few minutes. It was then that I realized this guy could actually be a girl. I did a discrete Adams apple check but was still unclear as to this thing’s sex. The face, the hair, the body, the voice; none of it specified male or female. I am issuing a mandate that says all gender-neutral people must wear ID tags that specify their sex.

In other news….

Emboldened by an 11 state rejection of gay marriage, conservatives urged Congress to follow suit by approving a federal constitutional amendment that would extend the prohibition nationwide. So, two people who are in love but happen to share the same sex organs are not allowed to marry, yet the 52 year-old crack addict down the street can legally marry the 18 year-old disease riddled hooker on the corner at the drive thru window of a Las Vegas chapel and then get divorced a week later. Ain’t America grand?

Always an Adventure

2004-11-08T14:17:00.000-06:00

Well, today was interesting. I arrived home from my soccer game to the pleasures of having no running water. Had I been feeling more ambitious, I would have hoarded some of the water flooding the parking lot of my apartment complex. Apparently a water main busted in another building, and I was rewarded with no water in my building as well. Water was everywhere, but not inside where I needed it; the irony was nauseating. I decided that an icy dip in the pool would suffice in the wake of no shower. The guys reading will know what came next. In the famous words of George Castanza…“like a scared turtle.” After warding off a certain bout of hypothermia and pneumonia, hunger set in, and I realized there was no food in sight. My roommate opened my eyes to the joy of eating cheese and crackers and ketchup. If you have not tried this concoction, be thankful. It tasted like a train wreck. Anyway, as I recover from this day, take a look at the link below. It amused me for awhile.

Are You An Alcoholic?

Post some of your results/stats in the comments section; this could be fun.

A Milestone

2004-11-05T01:49:00.000-06:00

Best Blog Award

Today, I realized that I have received my 2000th hit since my blog’s inception. I feel so proud, seeing as how my site has only been in existence for less than a month. While I’m still pretty much the same guy as always, my new fame will bring about some changes.* Five new policies are listed below; take heed.

1. Making direct eye contact with me is not preferred, and in some cases may actually lead to physical violence instigated by the posse I will undoubtedly acquire.

2. I will be adding a title to my name in the near future; whatever it happens to be, I expect all of you to adhere to it when addressing me. Some ideas currently on the table are Sir, Lord, Captain, Count, and Oh Great One. I think Potentate has a nice ring to it, but suggestions are currently being taken; do not miss out.

3. While I will relent to a few autographs on occasion, please remember that we celebrities are deserving of privacy just like the rest of you laymen.

4. If you want to be cool by association and hang out with me, I understand. However, I’m sure you understand that time is money, which is why I’ll need a small down payment before we can hang out. And my personal bank does give loans at a competitive rate.

5. When in my presence, a strict dress code must be abided by at all times. If you are unsure of what to wear, I suggest a ceremonial kimono for the men and traditional geisha dress for the women. (Note: this includes the white makeup and proper hairdo.)

*subject to change without notification.

Oh, and a big thanks to my mom for repeatedly refreshing the page and garnering all 2000 hits.

Rockin' the Vote

2004-11-03T11:07:00.000-06:00

Congratulations to President Bush, who is still the best president ever to be appointed to his first term by the United States Supreme Court.

I've learned many things from this debate, most of them useless. For example, I could now identify Dick Cheney's lesbian daughter in a police lineup, but I couldn't articulate either candidate's actual economic strategies. I can spell Abu Musab al-Zarqawi backwards, but I don't know how the US will defeat terrorism. Phrases such as, "if you elect me, I'll implement policies to help the American people" should be banned. Saying, "my opponent is incapable of leading this great nation" should be grounds for a bludgeoning upside the head with blunt objects. Political rhetoric is transparent and trite; we need specific actions, not lofty words. Well, now that it's all over, here's hoping that the best man for the job is the man just elected.

America '04

Observations

2004-10-31T15:42:00.000-06:00

I’ve learned many things this semester; some of them are even useful. For instance, I am well aware of the nuances of all bars’ happy hours in the tri-state area as well as the last possible date to drop a class. Below are some reflections on the semester.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The weekday mornings that I am really hungover are always the mornings that I have a class discussion about some book I didn’t read. I usually contribute by shielding my eyes from the blinding light and throwing in the occasional grunt. If I feel really up to it, I may even cough something up in the trashcan. I feel that really hammers home a point.

Contrary to parental belief, the prospect of having 8am classes is, in fact, a sound reason to change your major.

The one time you really need to meet with your academic advisor, she’s off for a few months on maternity leave. What an inconsiderate whore. Would it kill her to staple her legs shut until I graduate?

Lately I’ve seen guys wearing capri pants. Besides the serious gender issues, how can you justify paying full price for ¾ of a pair of pants?

Attention girls: please stop wearing those huge sunglasses that cover your entire face; you look ridiculous. Attention ugly girls: please continue wearing those sunglasses that cover your entire face, and if you do not already wear them, begin doing so. Also, wear a hat. And earmuffs. Snow pants too. It can’t hurt.

If you’re going to flip up your collar, you might as well wear an athletic cup around campus too, because I’ll be looking for you.

The people at the local grocery store stopped checking my ID after I began buying beer twice a day. I think some even went out and bought stock in Anheuser Busch. I guess I’ll have to make 3 beer runs per day now; who am I to let their stock drop?

The day you show up really late to class is the day that all the lights are out and some movie is on about some conflict in some country you didn’t know existed until the last class for which you were late as well. And then you have to stumble over people in the dark to find a seat, and you end up blocking the line of the projector for a full minute while you wait for some douche bag to remove his backpack from the only empty seat available.

During registration, I’ve found that I’ll readily wake up at 8am on the dot to register for classes that begin at noon, and then I’ll sleep through that noon class once the semester begins.

If you’re walking through downtown listening to your ipod, don’t stop me to ask for money to feed your family.

Best Week Ever

2004-10-28T02:10:00.000-05:00

I don't know if you have ever seen Best Week Ever on VH1, but if not, be grateful. I'd say it's the equivalent to a live birth on TV. Either way, with three days down, this is shaping up to be a damn fine week. Here's the rundown

1. My beer poem got posted on collegehumor.com
HOORAY BEER!
2. The Red Sox kicked history in the nuts and won the World Series in four games.
3. In the same day, I saw a girl's umbrella invert and break and another girl trip while wearing ridiculously high high heels. That helped me make it through an otherwise dreary day.
4. I watched a girl in a short skirt shamelessly flirt with my teacher only to be told to "sit down." What a hardass. Though maybe he's just gay.
5. I realized that I haven't received a cable bill in three months. I hope I didn't just jinx it... (EDIT, Nov 1st: I jinxed it; they're onto me)
6. Due to a coked-up TA, I was given a higher grade on a test than I deserved.
7. I showed up 10 minutes late to a class and got out 30 minutes early.
8. I found the picture posted below.

Quote of the day: "I'm not an alcoholic; I'm a drunk. Alcoholics go to meetings."

Picture of the day:

Ever been jealous of a squirrel before?

The Race for the Pulitzer is Over

2004-10-25T19:12:00.000-05:00

I've been inundated with requests (one person asked) for another poem to grace the pages of my blog. I stumbled across this poem the other day, which was written by me and my friend The Panda about two years ago. It's a morphing of our mutual love for anything edible and our twisted imaginations. I've never done LSD, but I imagine it's something like this...

Ballad of the Hungry

I love food, yes I do
Especially pork; I'm glad I'm not a Jew
Taste every food group before you rest
Including cake, steak, and a nice firm breast
Breakfast, lunch and dinner are okay
But I ate three more times today

8, 9, 10 more helpings
Bring the wheelbarrow; we'll eat like kings
A long buffet is my style
I will be there for awhile
Drink milk when eating cake
But never lick it from a trouser snake

Some food is best when smeared on men
But it's even better when smeared on ten
Don't forget in your hunger
To occasionally fondle your significant other
An apple a day keeps the doctor away
Especially important if he is gay

If you spill crumbs, use a broom
Always eat hotdogs in the bedroom
I like burgers, and I like fries
Incarcerated men prefer to sodomize
In the making of this ballad
We got hungry and tossed a salad.

Hell Has Frozen Over

2004-10-20T14:21:00.000-05:00

Joe Torre: Douche
Red Sox: AL Champions

Did this really just happen? I thought it was in the baseball bylaws that the Red Sox had to collapse in big games. Initially, I was hoping for a Red Sox-Cubs World Series, but if that is ever the case, I have the sinking suspicion that for the first time in baseball history each team would lose. Tonight, baseball history was made, as no team down 3-0 has ever come back to tie it at 3 apiece, let alone win the series. I had faith; I even bought some Pete's Wicked Ale to show my support for Boston. Now, the Yankees, the epicenter of my anguish, go home in dubious fashion. Let's rejoice.

Reasons to hate the Yankees
1. Rooting for the Yankees takes all the courage, imagination, conviction, and baseball intelligence of Spam
2. Steinbrenner
3. The Yankee's payroll this year was the largest in baseball, and larger than the GNP of Guam
4. Derek Jeter is gay
5. Bandwagon fans who don't know a curveball from a testicle
6. The Yankees wanted the Commisioner of Baseball to declare a forfeit when the Devil Rays showed up late to a game due to HURRICANE FRANCIS ravishing Florida... cold-hearted bastards
7. The Yankees charged fans to take pictures with their 1996 championship trophy
8. The Yankees are the only team in baseball who don't sew their names on their jerseys. My theory is because their payroll allows a swinging door of new talent to come occupy the jerseys every year, so there's no point in wasting thread
9. The media humps the proverbial leg of the Yankees and shows more nausiating highlights than one man can handle.
10. Derek Jeter is gay

I'm sure there are many more reasons to despise the Yankees--like 26 championship banners for instance. Feel free to post some reasons of your own.

Hypocrisy Abounds

2004-10-19T00:55:00.000-05:00

Captain DoucheBag

There's nothing quite like the feeling you get when a staunchly conservative TV personality gets hit with a sexual harrassment suit, and among other things, engages in self-sodomy. I never cared for Bill O'Reilly; he always seemed a bit too arrogant and condescending for my liking. Little did I know he is a sexual deviant. Oh well, I guess he got what he deserved. http://thesmokinggun.com/archive/1013043mackris1.html

Paying Homage

2004-10-15T02:12:00.000-05:00

Due to my numerous encounters with the sweet ambrosia, I figured it's only appropriate that I pay my respects.

An Ode to Beer

Beer is a drink
That won’t help you think
Nor will it help you drive
But friendship it brings
Where all men are Kings
In upscale or a dive

Beer is a drink
Where the glasses clink
And raucous cheers occur
Put more down
Your troubles drown
Your vision begins to blur

Beer is a drink
Your coherence sinks
And everything begins to spin
The floor starts to quake
Your hands then shake
And everything’s a din

Beer is a drink
Your eyes now pink
The liquid wants to leave
You hold it in
It hurts like sin
It ends up in a heave

Beer is a drink
A wonderful drink
Your fragile life’s lynchpin
Your breath starts to slow
Above hovers a crow
First to cirrhosis wins!

I learned my lesson

2004-10-13T18:59:00.000-05:00

Lesson of the Day:

DO NOT pan fry salmon in vegetable oil with your shirt off. I learned the hard way and am now the sheepish recipient of a burn on my chest. Luckily, my nervous system was bolstered with Miller High Life, so I didn't feel too much pain.

----------------

Today, I was assigned yet another group project. We have to create a public relations campaign for an art museum. The fun is only just beginning. I am really starting to question this whole "higher education" burlesque show. If things don't start looking up, I may drop out. I can really see why certain weaker individuals are driven to drinking...

A hangover I did not expect

2004-10-12T11:51:00.000-05:00

WARNING: NOT AS FUN AS IT LOOKS

After some studying, I decided to reward myself with some frosty beverages. Little did I know that the ample dose of Nyquil I had taken earlier in the evening (to combat the persistent cough I have acquired) would have such a dramatic effect. I awoke around 11am this morning facing the wrong direction in my bed; I was confused as hell. It then took me about 5 or 6 minutes to discern where the obnoxious, incessant noise was coming from. This noise turned out to be my alarm clock. Perhaps next time I will heed the advice of the label and "avoid alcoholic drinks" while taking Nyquil.

2004-10-12T02:48:00.000-05:00

Whether republican, democrat, or communist, this is pretty funny. Kerry's eyes are closed, his hands are apart, and he seems rather terrified. Lucky for him, there is no athletic portion to the debates.

I offend people

2004-10-11T22:07:00.000-05:00

In my Middle Eastern government class, we watched a rather graphic film about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The film showed much carnage, and among other things, it showed a trio of naked kids being bathed by a woman just recently widowed. After class ended, some students were soberly discussing the horrors depicted in the film. Being nearby, I cheerfully chimed in, "well at least we were privy to some good child porn; it had been awhile." I looked on as my classmates faces turned from confusion to grotesque horror. No one even responded. People these days have no sense of humor.

A Day In The Life

2004-10-10T20:06:00.000-05:00

I usually sit outside a particular class for awhile before venturing inside. Whoever decided that comfortable couches should be placed outside of boring classes is a truant mastermind. Once class has been in session for about 10 minutes or so, I enter, indifferent to the annoyed stares people give me when I climb over them. What do I care if they get their shoes stepped on if I get to sit through ten less minutes of class? A few days ago, I sat beside a particularly cheery girl who wore a sock on her arm, a la Britney Speares, circa 2002. Within 2 minutes of me sitting next to her, she introduced herself and struck up a conversation about how she was looking forward to working on the project that we had been assigned. This type of person makes my stomach turn and causes me to lose sleep at night; everyone should at least be a little cynical. Now that we were fast friends of 5 minutes, she proceeded to ask me for a piece of gum, assuming that everyone carries gum with him/her. Upon responding that I didn't have any, she rolled her eyes and made an odd noise, apparently not believing me. Why would I lie? It's only gum, afterall. She immediately ceased speaking to me and even moved over in her chair a little. In one way, I was amused and thankful for the reprieve. However, part of me really just wanted to slap her in the face with a dead fish.

The Debates

2004-10-08T18:34:00.000-05:00

Upon watching both of the Presidential debates which have aired, and the one VP debate, I have come to realize that this is one of those elections where, even if you win, you lose. Who in their right mind would want to be the leader of the country in times like these? Terrorism, The War in Iraq, economic instability, the usual domestic strife... Other than slutty interns and the White House breakfasts, I can't think of one good reason why anyone would want to be the leader of this land. The pay sucks in relation to the responsibility, and you are always under public scutiny. Some may say that I lack ambition and political will. And to them, I would say, you are correct. I am registered to vote, and I will vote. I'll do my part to contribute to the organized madness. I concede that an election is ideal, but I'd prefer the Presidency be settled with a 12 round boxing bout or perhaps a simple measuring stick. Then, at least, we wouldn't be lambasted with soon-to-be-unfulfilled political rhetoric and shameless candidate website promotion that is disseminated under the pretense of a debate.