Yesterday i did nothing
Tommorow i will continue to do nothing
Today there was a lot of nothing but there was also alcohol, i guess thats something
Yay me!
Side note: I have a complex issue. I am a guy, and therefore i have sex in my mind more often then not. It's not a stretch of the imagination to believe that i think about sex a lot. The problem arises when sex influences how i communicate with people. This problem has been brought to my attention by a party who does not think that i have the capability to change my ways, or break my habbits.
So here i stand. I am announcing this issue to whoever cares enough to read about it. I am also publicly vowing that i will not bring sexual innuendo, suggestions, or conversation into any type of communication that i am involved in. Should i break this vow, i will be judged by the public opinion by announcing here my failure to follow through.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Better late than Never
I had lots of fun little adventures yesterday that i've been meaning to get out into cyberspace. If i was a man who was dilligent in following his to-do list, i would have made this post last night. Lucky me, my friends know better than that.
The Snow Day: a phenomenon that brings tears of joy to the faces of even the most jaded child. It's ability to turn an otherwise routine 24 hours into euphoria borders on the mystical. Though the following story illustrates why its very important to confirm it is indeed a snow day before throwing the clock against something solid and unmoving.
Yesterday morning, about 9am, After being soundly asleep for about 5 hours, i get awoken by Jared. He informs me that the university is closed and classes are canceled. I celebrate in a manner as joyous as it was appropriate; i cancel my alarm and fall back asleep. At the happy hour of 1pm i wake back up. The problem being that i dont quite remember if Jared truly woke me up and told me classes were cancelled, or if i dreamed the whole exchange. Panic sets in. A quick consult with my text messages confirms that Akron was indeed shut down, and that it was safe for my blood pressure to drop.
The thing about snow days is that they usually involve vast quantities of snow. The thing about private snow plows is that they dont care where they push the snow their being paid to clear away. This brings about the very destructive formula:
Lots of snow + dumbass plow drivers + my car = Very unfortunate situation
After being snowed in all day, men have a tendancy to get hungry. They also have a tendancy to want other things, but thats neither here nor there. A trip to the 24hr diner is called for. And in the bitter bitter cold we got yet one more suprise. We no longer had cars. We had snow piles that had been packed in by mentally handicapped plow drivers. This led to an experience that involved a broken scraper, plenty of cussing, a lot of kicking, and pulling snow away with bare hands. Previous investment in a shovel was mentioned in passing several times.
And on a final note: 77 was designed by a demon looking for a promotion to the 7th circle of hell, becasue the pain and frustration it causes when you are trying to get to class is epic
The Snow Day: a phenomenon that brings tears of joy to the faces of even the most jaded child. It's ability to turn an otherwise routine 24 hours into euphoria borders on the mystical. Though the following story illustrates why its very important to confirm it is indeed a snow day before throwing the clock against something solid and unmoving.
Yesterday morning, about 9am, After being soundly asleep for about 5 hours, i get awoken by Jared. He informs me that the university is closed and classes are canceled. I celebrate in a manner as joyous as it was appropriate; i cancel my alarm and fall back asleep. At the happy hour of 1pm i wake back up. The problem being that i dont quite remember if Jared truly woke me up and told me classes were cancelled, or if i dreamed the whole exchange. Panic sets in. A quick consult with my text messages confirms that Akron was indeed shut down, and that it was safe for my blood pressure to drop.
The thing about snow days is that they usually involve vast quantities of snow. The thing about private snow plows is that they dont care where they push the snow their being paid to clear away. This brings about the very destructive formula:
Lots of snow + dumbass plow drivers + my car = Very unfortunate situation
After being snowed in all day, men have a tendancy to get hungry. They also have a tendancy to want other things, but thats neither here nor there. A trip to the 24hr diner is called for. And in the bitter bitter cold we got yet one more suprise. We no longer had cars. We had snow piles that had been packed in by mentally handicapped plow drivers. This led to an experience that involved a broken scraper, plenty of cussing, a lot of kicking, and pulling snow away with bare hands. Previous investment in a shovel was mentioned in passing several times.
And on a final note: 77 was designed by a demon looking for a promotion to the 7th circle of hell, becasue the pain and frustration it causes when you are trying to get to class is epic
Monday, January 26, 2009
Lets play a game
A new week begins.
I have a few options here. I can conjure deep heartfelt sonnets inspired by ancient muses of lore and myth. Or i can play a word association game. This being my blog and since i hold the only vote that counts, im doing the latter.
The rules are simple, im going to a news streaming site, randomly select 5 (count em five) new stories, and find the deep right-wing conspiracy that connects them all. For we all know that there is no such thing as fate, and all events in this world are guided by the shadowy hands of 5 guys in a basement in southern Baltimore.
Alrighty, lets see what skull and bones has been up to...
Becasue of its lyrical quality, first up is "Sigourney Weaver flashes her Beaver"
"After 30 Arsons, town residents want answers" thats a real eye catcher
I'll go with "Sex drive linked to prostrate cancer" cause it scares the holy hell outta me
"Prince Harry dumped on facebook by Chelsy Davy" cause i was hurting for characters
and finally "Kentucky has highest smoking death rate" because everyone hates Kentucky
There is a man named fred. Fred is a rebel, a maverick, he plays by nobodys rules but his own. The only problem with fred is the amount of sex he has. Its obscene! And by obscene i mean profane in a way that makes mothers clutch the ears of their children half a world away. He is truly following those ancient instincts bestowed by the y chromosone, inserting into those woman deemed worthy the great and mighty seed of Fred. Fred died of prostrate cancer well before his time, yet one of the many illigetimate children he sired was Mark Zuckerburg who went on to found the online titan known as Facebook. This website would one day facillitate the break up between prince Harry and Chelsy Davy. Harry, now single, indicated on his Facebook profile that he thought woman who smoked were hot, and due to a server error, this tidbit only appeared on computers in Kentucky. I'm not exactly sure how thats possible, but please suspend disbelief.
Almost overnight, millions of woman all accross Kentucky started chainsmoking like those little cancer sticks were the dicks of God himself. Unfortunately, the town of Frogballs had a delay in their ashtray shipment. Millions of cigarettes were being tossed willy-nilly on the ground, in bushes, on grandmothers, leading to a spree of fires that were marketed as arsons in order to draw the hip young pyro tourist industry, and cover up for that one boy scout merrit badge attempt that went horribly horribly wrong.....
Sigourny Weaver, who knew she could never compete with a whole state full of southern belles, and unwilling to compromise her lungs, let Harry know she was interested by giving him a high profile gander at the goodies that are all his for the taking.
And in the shadows, 5 men clink glasses of brandy and smile hardy conspiratorial grins
I have a few options here. I can conjure deep heartfelt sonnets inspired by ancient muses of lore and myth. Or i can play a word association game. This being my blog and since i hold the only vote that counts, im doing the latter.
The rules are simple, im going to a news streaming site, randomly select 5 (count em five) new stories, and find the deep right-wing conspiracy that connects them all. For we all know that there is no such thing as fate, and all events in this world are guided by the shadowy hands of 5 guys in a basement in southern Baltimore.
Alrighty, lets see what skull and bones has been up to...
Becasue of its lyrical quality, first up is "Sigourney Weaver flashes her Beaver"
"After 30 Arsons, town residents want answers" thats a real eye catcher
I'll go with "Sex drive linked to prostrate cancer" cause it scares the holy hell outta me
"Prince Harry dumped on facebook by Chelsy Davy" cause i was hurting for characters
and finally "Kentucky has highest smoking death rate" because everyone hates Kentucky
There is a man named fred. Fred is a rebel, a maverick, he plays by nobodys rules but his own. The only problem with fred is the amount of sex he has. Its obscene! And by obscene i mean profane in a way that makes mothers clutch the ears of their children half a world away. He is truly following those ancient instincts bestowed by the y chromosone, inserting into those woman deemed worthy the great and mighty seed of Fred. Fred died of prostrate cancer well before his time, yet one of the many illigetimate children he sired was Mark Zuckerburg who went on to found the online titan known as Facebook. This website would one day facillitate the break up between prince Harry and Chelsy Davy. Harry, now single, indicated on his Facebook profile that he thought woman who smoked were hot, and due to a server error, this tidbit only appeared on computers in Kentucky. I'm not exactly sure how thats possible, but please suspend disbelief.
Almost overnight, millions of woman all accross Kentucky started chainsmoking like those little cancer sticks were the dicks of God himself. Unfortunately, the town of Frogballs had a delay in their ashtray shipment. Millions of cigarettes were being tossed willy-nilly on the ground, in bushes, on grandmothers, leading to a spree of fires that were marketed as arsons in order to draw the hip young pyro tourist industry, and cover up for that one boy scout merrit badge attempt that went horribly horribly wrong.....
Sigourny Weaver, who knew she could never compete with a whole state full of southern belles, and unwilling to compromise her lungs, let Harry know she was interested by giving him a high profile gander at the goodies that are all his for the taking.
And in the shadows, 5 men clink glasses of brandy and smile hardy conspiratorial grins
Friday, January 23, 2009
I'm offically old
I am not a long post kind of person. I dont have that kind of time, inclination, or attention span. So I originally planned on spending a paragraph and a half going on about my soul-crushingly boring day. Jared took offense to the length i had choosen. So here; two full paragraphs of every thought off the top of my cerebral cortex.
Good news: theres a new family member on the way. Better news: Its not mine. Anthony gives me a call early today, appearently the polyeurathane and other superfund site worthy chemcials that we sucked up on our daily jobs had less of an impact on his sailors then on mine. Carlas got a bun in the oven and the next generation has begun.
This means two things: One: we again have somebody in the family who believes in Santa Claus, so i gotta dig up my big red suit. Two: I am now old. It is now expected of me that i actually do something worthwhile with my life; so two kids, a morgage and alimony is now looming in my near future.
*sidenote : there is not a single Sonic restaurant in a hundred and fifty miles. Why is every other commercial while im watching burn notice about the allegedly amazing drive-through they have.
Good news: theres a new family member on the way. Better news: Its not mine. Anthony gives me a call early today, appearently the polyeurathane and other superfund site worthy chemcials that we sucked up on our daily jobs had less of an impact on his sailors then on mine. Carlas got a bun in the oven and the next generation has begun.
This means two things: One: we again have somebody in the family who believes in Santa Claus, so i gotta dig up my big red suit. Two: I am now old. It is now expected of me that i actually do something worthwhile with my life; so two kids, a morgage and alimony is now looming in my near future.
*sidenote : there is not a single Sonic restaurant in a hundred and fifty miles. Why is every other commercial while im watching burn notice about the allegedly amazing drive-through they have.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
You should get a hobby
Well i think for a first post, a little disclaimer is appropriate.
Get a hobby
If you are reading this now (and esp if for some reason you continue to read this in the future) you are probably either lost and need to be redirected to a blog that actually matters, attached to me in some horribly unhealthy way, or have time to kill and are feeling masochistic. In any of these cases, a hobby thats constructive will do you far more good then attempting to sift through my posted thoughts. Your genetalia will thank you.
Second disclaimer:
My spelling is bad, i know this, get over it.
Get a hobby
If you are reading this now (and esp if for some reason you continue to read this in the future) you are probably either lost and need to be redirected to a blog that actually matters, attached to me in some horribly unhealthy way, or have time to kill and are feeling masochistic. In any of these cases, a hobby thats constructive will do you far more good then attempting to sift through my posted thoughts. Your genetalia will thank you.
Second disclaimer:
My spelling is bad, i know this, get over it.
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