Every once in a while there are moments when you go to someones house to hang out, and when you walk in, there on the floor is something of interest... at least it catches your eye for a few seconds, and I don't mean a dead body... that would be of great interest and would consume much of your time at staring at it...
It is more of the little things that are out of place and rather strange for that friend to have out, or even have... So there is this minute at which you spend in gazing at this object, much like Sam Niel at the T-Rex... Long and hard... Then you move on...
Of course your friend noticed that you couldn't help but gander at that thing that is not a usual in their place, and proceeds to try and explain it to you when you don't really care that much in the first place, but you sit and listen to them because it is the polite thing to do...
"Oh that, that's the art project that Timmy is working on. He gave it to me to critique it for him as an outside of class help, or something... I think it's good, but the ways that he used that wood in the middle there and the rubber, with just a little bit of mortar around the edges is a bit strange don't you think?... oh but this was cool, he also wrote a little poem for the piece too... HA, pinned it to the back so you can read it if you flip it around...yeah, well I think I have to get it back to Timmy tomorrow, but I'm not sure how to, it's so awkward to handle..." ...huh?!?!...
What makes people think that their friends need them to explain the weird stuff in their apartment, or car, or tree fort... sometimes it is useful info, but when it comes down to explaining how you used to wet the bed when you were younger, and this was the thing that your mom gave you to help you, but your dog took it and buried it in the back yard and you couldn't find it, but you stopped wetting the bed later that week anyways, and now you have it because your dad went a little hippie again and was digging a hole to plant a tree in for earth day and found it so your mom sent it to you by FedEx...
Way too much information man....
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Happy birthdays...
I don't really like my birthday... Most people LOVE their birthday, a time to be the center of attention, make people that they rarely see, buy them something "just because"... I find it an abuse of life...
Well to the point of writing for the day, I was looking at a facebook profile of someone that I know, and it happens to be their day of birth today... Well as I scrolled down the wall of their page, I saw it was littered with people that I am sure, or at least I would bet my leg (up-to the kneecap), that most of them don't talk to this person but once in a very long while... All of the posts were the same in essence, "Happy Birthday" some with an exclamation after, some retardedly with multiple vowels and consonants in them, some with the name, as if making sure that we get our signals clear, and others sounding redundant by also wishing that their day goes well...
Well this got me to thinking, mostly because I don't care that much for my own day of the birthing, what if that person was in fact having the worst day of their life, at least up to the moment... Is that just rubbing it in a little bit more than needed? here this person is, bitterly, moodily plodding their way through a day, which in fact is their birthing day (that perhaps has become a new favorite phrase), as some jolly bimbo, skipping as though is was a munchkin from the land of Oz and the wicked witch has just bit it, comes of and says in a rather overly gay, and that is the 40's sense of the word, "Happy Birthday, I hope you enjoy it to the fullest, and keep up your growing!"...
Ok, at this point, or at least when this gay "friend" gets the look of pure evil mixed with a strange grin of those who have more recently gone insane, they should know to run for their puny lives... Well that is what I think anyway...
Try this out, at least you are guaranteed to get them to respond back to you, tell them to "have a normal day, you don't know why this is the day for normality, but it seems just as good as any other."...
Well to the point of writing for the day, I was looking at a facebook profile of someone that I know, and it happens to be their day of birth today... Well as I scrolled down the wall of their page, I saw it was littered with people that I am sure, or at least I would bet my leg (up-to the kneecap), that most of them don't talk to this person but once in a very long while... All of the posts were the same in essence, "Happy Birthday" some with an exclamation after, some retardedly with multiple vowels and consonants in them, some with the name, as if making sure that we get our signals clear, and others sounding redundant by also wishing that their day goes well...
Well this got me to thinking, mostly because I don't care that much for my own day of the birthing, what if that person was in fact having the worst day of their life, at least up to the moment... Is that just rubbing it in a little bit more than needed? here this person is, bitterly, moodily plodding their way through a day, which in fact is their birthing day (that perhaps has become a new favorite phrase), as some jolly bimbo, skipping as though is was a munchkin from the land of Oz and the wicked witch has just bit it, comes of and says in a rather overly gay, and that is the 40's sense of the word, "Happy Birthday, I hope you enjoy it to the fullest, and keep up your growing!"...
Ok, at this point, or at least when this gay "friend" gets the look of pure evil mixed with a strange grin of those who have more recently gone insane, they should know to run for their puny lives... Well that is what I think anyway...
Try this out, at least you are guaranteed to get them to respond back to you, tell them to "have a normal day, you don't know why this is the day for normality, but it seems just as good as any other."...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
"Five second rule" to puking...
I was thinking about food... Where it comes from, who it is that prepares it for me, and where it has been before I got hold of it...
I have been a slave in the food industry for a rather large portion of my life, and have seen and heard about things that I will defiantly not tell you about... but it is not the gross things that I know that happen to food that I was thinking about, but rather those people that refuse to touch food that have had anything happen to it...
So first you have to look at it from the viewpoint of the picky person. Ok, yes, it is gross if there has been something dropped on the floor, or you have found a hair in your food. That makes most people lose their appetite right off, so fast that even the Big Bang couldn't keep up with it...
Now think of it from the cooks point of view. Something falls on the floor, HEY five second rule, right? And it isn't like they play hide the hair in the soup game... And even when they find a slug on the fresh lettuce, wash it off and call it good. from a cooks standpoint the rule is, if I would eat it, it's ok...
So then we get down to the real truth of the matter, the part that would have that picky eater puking everything that he has ever eaten in their life back out, the truth that makes small girls cry and little boys stair in awe... The farmers side of the food tale...
Mental walk through: you go to a farm and see all the animals that the farmer is growing for food, and are only told, not shown, that they will soon be providing you with the beef for your burgers next Friday... Cool you think and thank the cow for it's brave sacrifice to a growing nation and go home rather hungrier than you should be... But as soon as you are gone the farmer goes to work... There are few that have seen a cow being slaughtered in real life, and the details of the goings on are not of an appropriate rating for this blog... You can just imagine a slasher movie, with the outcome being that a fat man gets to eat something...
Anyways, the Idea is that there is a whole lot more to what goes on in producing the food that we eat every day... then there is my theory that we are eating dead bodies all the time, but you can ask me about that at a later time...
And by the way, you can't spell slaughter without laughter...
I have been a slave in the food industry for a rather large portion of my life, and have seen and heard about things that I will defiantly not tell you about... but it is not the gross things that I know that happen to food that I was thinking about, but rather those people that refuse to touch food that have had anything happen to it...
So first you have to look at it from the viewpoint of the picky person. Ok, yes, it is gross if there has been something dropped on the floor, or you have found a hair in your food. That makes most people lose their appetite right off, so fast that even the Big Bang couldn't keep up with it...
Now think of it from the cooks point of view. Something falls on the floor, HEY five second rule, right? And it isn't like they play hide the hair in the soup game... And even when they find a slug on the fresh lettuce, wash it off and call it good. from a cooks standpoint the rule is, if I would eat it, it's ok...
So then we get down to the real truth of the matter, the part that would have that picky eater puking everything that he has ever eaten in their life back out, the truth that makes small girls cry and little boys stair in awe... The farmers side of the food tale...
Mental walk through: you go to a farm and see all the animals that the farmer is growing for food, and are only told, not shown, that they will soon be providing you with the beef for your burgers next Friday... Cool you think and thank the cow for it's brave sacrifice to a growing nation and go home rather hungrier than you should be... But as soon as you are gone the farmer goes to work... There are few that have seen a cow being slaughtered in real life, and the details of the goings on are not of an appropriate rating for this blog... You can just imagine a slasher movie, with the outcome being that a fat man gets to eat something...
Anyways, the Idea is that there is a whole lot more to what goes on in producing the food that we eat every day... then there is my theory that we are eating dead bodies all the time, but you can ask me about that at a later time...
And by the way, you can't spell slaughter without laughter...
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Talking to yourself...
It was once said to me that "talking to yourself is the first step to madness." Well I just walked off and told myself a good joke about just that very thing...
I don't know about the rest of the population of this world, but it seems that there is a lack of persons conversing with themselves in this day and age. I do it all the time...
There are some great side effects that come from this action... 1) I find it easier to remember things when I have a brisk talk to myself about the subject and I find that I and myself agree on it. 2) If you happen to be walking down a crowded street or boardwalk, most people will look up at and try and see if they are supposed to know you from somewhere, this can be applied as a game on a dull day (Each person that looks at you in such a way is considered a point, the score to beat in seventy-two). 3) And finally, even the craziest of loons will think that you are off your big red rocker and keep a safe distance from your approaching danger...
If you have become bored of your daily routine and want some more zing to your day, I suggest you try a good long talking to yourself...
I don't know about the rest of the population of this world, but it seems that there is a lack of persons conversing with themselves in this day and age. I do it all the time...
There are some great side effects that come from this action... 1) I find it easier to remember things when I have a brisk talk to myself about the subject and I find that I and myself agree on it. 2) If you happen to be walking down a crowded street or boardwalk, most people will look up at and try and see if they are supposed to know you from somewhere, this can be applied as a game on a dull day (Each person that looks at you in such a way is considered a point, the score to beat in seventy-two). 3) And finally, even the craziest of loons will think that you are off your big red rocker and keep a safe distance from your approaching danger...
If you have become bored of your daily routine and want some more zing to your day, I suggest you try a good long talking to yourself...
Friday, September 11, 2009
Work could be fun if you had it in you...
There is something that I have always wanted to do, something that I think would make fun look so small and insignificant that it would sulk off into the corner to frown, and maybe cry a little...
This something came to mind when I was informed by the dark forces of the workplace, that I must wear a hat when I work. I hate hats, I loathe them, I hold such a contempt for them that I... well I just don't like them very much. But what I know would be a great time to be had by any party that is forced to wear the devils spawn to work in, is to find as many random, crazy, ape, barmy, bats in the belfry, batty, berserk, bonkers, cracked, crazed, cuckoo, daft, delirious, demented, deranged, dingy, dippy, erratic, flaky, flipped, flipped out, freaked out, fruity, idiotic, insane, kooky, lunatic, mad, mad as a March hare, mad as a hatter (HA HA), maniacal, mental, moonstruck, nuts, nutty, nutty as fruitcake, out of one's tree, out to lunch, potty, psycho, round the bend, schizo, screw loose, screwball, screwy, silly, unbalanced, unglued, unhinged, unzipped, wacky hats that one could find, and wear them on different days...
Of course this sounds like a blast, but the real fun of it would be when you took on the personality of the hat that you were wearing that day... Turban; here comes Ahali Yokalch. Cowboy hat; say hello to John Wayne. A Yarmulke; here comes our Jewish friend. Knights helmet; sir Snootalot at your service fair maiden... and so on a so forth...
Just imagine what fun you could have working all day with a space helmet on...
This something came to mind when I was informed by the dark forces of the workplace, that I must wear a hat when I work. I hate hats, I loathe them, I hold such a contempt for them that I... well I just don't like them very much. But what I know would be a great time to be had by any party that is forced to wear the devils spawn to work in, is to find as many random, crazy, ape, barmy, bats in the belfry, batty, berserk, bonkers, cracked, crazed, cuckoo, daft, delirious, demented, deranged, dingy, dippy, erratic, flaky, flipped, flipped out, freaked out, fruity, idiotic, insane, kooky, lunatic, mad, mad as a March hare, mad as a hatter (HA HA), maniacal, mental, moonstruck, nuts, nutty, nutty as fruitcake, out of one's tree, out to lunch, potty, psycho, round the bend, schizo, screw loose, screwball, screwy, silly, unbalanced, unglued, unhinged, unzipped, wacky hats that one could find, and wear them on different days...
Of course this sounds like a blast, but the real fun of it would be when you took on the personality of the hat that you were wearing that day... Turban; here comes Ahali Yokalch. Cowboy hat; say hello to John Wayne. A Yarmulke; here comes our Jewish friend. Knights helmet; sir Snootalot at your service fair maiden... and so on a so forth...
Just imagine what fun you could have working all day with a space helmet on...
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Sing alongs...
So there are times, when driving in the car, that songs come on the radio that you can't help but bob your head to and shout the words out as you move along the streets...
Your co-riding-passenger-friend might think that you have something wrong with your head for singing out loud, or at least wish that you had taken singing lessons. But there is another side to these events that have struck a distantly harsh chord in my innermost being... distant being a key word there...
What I found out is that this practically normal thing for a "sane" person to do, is seen in a completely different light from observers on the outside of the car...
The problem is this: the sound from the speakers are down in the lower end of the car doors, and do not face outside of the car, for purely good electrical anti-shocking reasons when it rains, smart engineers. This creates a problem when the sound does not make its way to the ears of those listening outside, but your voice, being right at the level of the open window, comes booming out to their waiting ears...
Thus, you have the pleasure of letting everyone around you know what you are listening to, without them actually hearing the music...
So, I say this, ether let the chorus rain down on the unsuspecting ears of those eating out on the sidewalks, or roll your windows up. Let your ego decide...
Your co-riding-passenger-friend might think that you have something wrong with your head for singing out loud, or at least wish that you had taken singing lessons. But there is another side to these events that have struck a distantly harsh chord in my innermost being... distant being a key word there...
What I found out is that this practically normal thing for a "sane" person to do, is seen in a completely different light from observers on the outside of the car...
The problem is this: the sound from the speakers are down in the lower end of the car doors, and do not face outside of the car, for purely good electrical anti-shocking reasons when it rains, smart engineers. This creates a problem when the sound does not make its way to the ears of those listening outside, but your voice, being right at the level of the open window, comes booming out to their waiting ears...
Thus, you have the pleasure of letting everyone around you know what you are listening to, without them actually hearing the music...
So, I say this, ether let the chorus rain down on the unsuspecting ears of those eating out on the sidewalks, or roll your windows up. Let your ego decide...
Monday, August 31, 2009
Starting up again...
Thus begins a new semester at the UI, and I have great hopes for this blog...
I hope that I will be blessed in numerous ideas to talk about in ways that you have NEVER thought about before...
I hope that more of the "followers" of this blog, because I know that I have a cult following out there somewhere, will comment more this year than they ever have so that I can gather OH SO MUCH MUCH more random ideas to write about...
And I hope that you all giggle a little bit...
I hope that I will be blessed in numerous ideas to talk about in ways that you have NEVER thought about before...
I hope that more of the "followers" of this blog, because I know that I have a cult following out there somewhere, will comment more this year than they ever have so that I can gather OH SO MUCH MUCH more random ideas to write about...
And I hope that you all giggle a little bit...
Friday, May 29, 2009
Snort and sniff...
Spring is here, and with that comes the sneezing and sniffing that the nose provides when the air becomes full of those pesky little particles of dust, pollen, and other bits of flying things that we would rather not know that fly around and go up our noses...
Well today we focus on the booger, more importantly, how fast boogers seem to regenerate in the naval passages. If you are a sniffer like most Americans, you might find that only a few seconds after you have sniffed your way to freedom, more boogies build themselves up in a hurry to cause more sniffing just when you think that it is all over.
I guess that you can attribute this to the fact that there is more crud flying through the air, so that you will build up extra stockpiles of bugger forming particles quick. Yet for some reason is seems that if you would do activities that deal with more movement and speed, that you should be able to dodge around the floating nose cloggers, like Neo in The Matrix. But No, it only increases the intake on the nostril front...
Maybe the Chinese have something with the coverings over their mouths and noses when they are riding bikes around. Should we be taking a vein from their lief? or a page from their book? or a hair from their noses?...
Well today we focus on the booger, more importantly, how fast boogers seem to regenerate in the naval passages. If you are a sniffer like most Americans, you might find that only a few seconds after you have sniffed your way to freedom, more boogies build themselves up in a hurry to cause more sniffing just when you think that it is all over.
I guess that you can attribute this to the fact that there is more crud flying through the air, so that you will build up extra stockpiles of bugger forming particles quick. Yet for some reason is seems that if you would do activities that deal with more movement and speed, that you should be able to dodge around the floating nose cloggers, like Neo in The Matrix. But No, it only increases the intake on the nostril front...
Maybe the Chinese have something with the coverings over their mouths and noses when they are riding bikes around. Should we be taking a vein from their lief? or a page from their book? or a hair from their noses?...
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
VCS...
There is an epidemic out in the world. In this age of cellular phones, kids are getting bombarded with calls from friends and telemarketers. Many of these children are being infected by new forms of disabilities. The latest disease is something doctors are calling VCS (vibrating crotch syndrome)...
VCS is a serious disease that effects, as stated in the title, the crotch. It occurs when a person places their phone on the vibration setting and leaves it that way for extended periods of time. After a while of only being able to feel if someone is calling them, VCS strikes...
VCS strikes by imitating that same vibration in the groin region as the cellular phone does. Thus making the victim believe that they are receiving a call when they are not...
Side effects are: quick uncontrolled hand motions towards the crotch for no reason, excessive checking of the blank phone screen, and cancer...
If you wish to help in the fight against this life afflicting disease, mail any amount of cash to:
VCS Research Center
910 E. 6th St.
Moscow ID 83843
Thank you for your support...
VCS is a serious disease that effects, as stated in the title, the crotch. It occurs when a person places their phone on the vibration setting and leaves it that way for extended periods of time. After a while of only being able to feel if someone is calling them, VCS strikes...
VCS strikes by imitating that same vibration in the groin region as the cellular phone does. Thus making the victim believe that they are receiving a call when they are not...
Side effects are: quick uncontrolled hand motions towards the crotch for no reason, excessive checking of the blank phone screen, and cancer...
If you wish to help in the fight against this life afflicting disease, mail any amount of cash to:
VCS Research Center
910 E. 6th St.
Moscow ID 83843
Thank you for your support...
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Little matters...
Every once in a while we do something bad that we will remember for the rest of our days never to do again...
I'm not talking about the times when you shoot someone and sit there and think about it until you come to the conclusion that that was a bad idea after all and you should refrain from and further shooting of friends from now on. No it is about littler matters than that...
For instance, when you are done taking a shower and you turn off the water and revolve around to the curtain to see it has lots of little friendly water droplets all over it. Then the thought strikes you, 'I could knock all those down if I just hit that curtain with my hand!'... And with a giggle and a small dance in the tub to celebrate you brain for thinking of this new wonderful idea you hit the shower curtain like the child you are...
And as the drops hit you, you remember all the little laws of the world. That those little drops have been giving all the heat that they once held for you to the dang curtain, and are now cold, oh so very cold...
These are some of the things that we do that we will remember never to do again, slap the water off the shower curtain while you're still in it, not smart. Next time you get that childish feeling to do something similar to this, think it through for a minute first...
I'm not talking about the times when you shoot someone and sit there and think about it until you come to the conclusion that that was a bad idea after all and you should refrain from and further shooting of friends from now on. No it is about littler matters than that...
For instance, when you are done taking a shower and you turn off the water and revolve around to the curtain to see it has lots of little friendly water droplets all over it. Then the thought strikes you, 'I could knock all those down if I just hit that curtain with my hand!'... And with a giggle and a small dance in the tub to celebrate you brain for thinking of this new wonderful idea you hit the shower curtain like the child you are...
And as the drops hit you, you remember all the little laws of the world. That those little drops have been giving all the heat that they once held for you to the dang curtain, and are now cold, oh so very cold...
These are some of the things that we do that we will remember never to do again, slap the water off the shower curtain while you're still in it, not smart. Next time you get that childish feeling to do something similar to this, think it through for a minute first...
Monday, May 18, 2009
BP...
Travesty, something that has been grotesquely misrepresentation of something...
So with this definition in mind I would like to have a small discussion about clothing. There is a travesty in the clothing industry of the world. It comes in the form of the color "Barney Purple" (BP), and is straight out of the eighties, and would do better returning to the grave in which i died in...
Barney Purple, I did make this name up, but it is intended to differentiate itself from other colors of purples that are out there. Most purple is ok, and looks good on girls, but that one color is a degradation of the soul, I can't see how they don't feel the pulling down of there self image while wearing it...
So here is my plea to all the girls that have a shirt in this horrid color, burn in. As a witch on a stake in olden times, burn it. And if you happen to see one hanging in the discount section of Ross, Goodwill, or Salvation Army, do the rest of the world a favor and purchase it to burn and purge the world of this Travesty of fashion...
So with this definition in mind I would like to have a small discussion about clothing. There is a travesty in the clothing industry of the world. It comes in the form of the color "Barney Purple" (BP), and is straight out of the eighties, and would do better returning to the grave in which i died in...
Barney Purple, I did make this name up, but it is intended to differentiate itself from other colors of purples that are out there. Most purple is ok, and looks good on girls, but that one color is a degradation of the soul, I can't see how they don't feel the pulling down of there self image while wearing it...
So here is my plea to all the girls that have a shirt in this horrid color, burn in. As a witch on a stake in olden times, burn it. And if you happen to see one hanging in the discount section of Ross, Goodwill, or Salvation Army, do the rest of the world a favor and purchase it to burn and purge the world of this Travesty of fashion...
Friday, May 1, 2009
Insults...
When an argument gets heated and boils down to just throwing insults at one another to try and make the other one run to a corner and cry, there is a surefire insult that is made to have everyone from little children to grown adults swimming away in the river of tears that they are crying...
You might know a bit of what I am talking about. Here are some of the typical insults that are thrown around:
You Mom, this is a good one, because everyone at some point had a mother and most moms are looked up to, so this can be like a kick in the groin...
Dummy, this is a little childish, but I believe that most everyone has had a nagging feeling in the back of their head that they aren't as bright as they think, so this is more of a good hefty smack on the back of the head...
Loser, commonly misused insult, most people aren't at the top of anything, so really you are stating a fact about their life rather than insulting them, only use this if you are fighting with a professional athlete that has recently had an article published about him that claimed that he is the best thing since no iron bed sheets...
There are many other insults that are running about free in this world, and maybe you have used some of them, but as I said before, there is one that tops them all... Are you ready for this? can you handle it? You better go and get yourself a few buckets and towels in case you start to weep copious amounts of tears...
Here it is: Your other mom!
OH can you feel the heartache from that one? I'm crying just writing this... Ok so I don't really suggest using this insult unless you have some extra time on you hands for cleanup... Fluids tend to run wild when this, oh so sensitive subject is brought up... So be warned, use only on your worst enemies...
You might know a bit of what I am talking about. Here are some of the typical insults that are thrown around:
You Mom, this is a good one, because everyone at some point had a mother and most moms are looked up to, so this can be like a kick in the groin...
Dummy, this is a little childish, but I believe that most everyone has had a nagging feeling in the back of their head that they aren't as bright as they think, so this is more of a good hefty smack on the back of the head...
Loser, commonly misused insult, most people aren't at the top of anything, so really you are stating a fact about their life rather than insulting them, only use this if you are fighting with a professional athlete that has recently had an article published about him that claimed that he is the best thing since no iron bed sheets...
There are many other insults that are running about free in this world, and maybe you have used some of them, but as I said before, there is one that tops them all... Are you ready for this? can you handle it? You better go and get yourself a few buckets and towels in case you start to weep copious amounts of tears...
Here it is: Your other mom!
OH can you feel the heartache from that one? I'm crying just writing this... Ok so I don't really suggest using this insult unless you have some extra time on you hands for cleanup... Fluids tend to run wild when this, oh so sensitive subject is brought up... So be warned, use only on your worst enemies...
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Sleep decisions...
When you wake up in the morning, sleepy eyed and not ready to go in the least bit, but you know that there is something that you should be going to right now, like class, and at that moment you have to get up... Or not...
Your "sense" comes along to help with these dilemmas at just these times, talking to you in the deepest parts of your head, those areas that echo all around and seem to make so much more sense every time they resound again... "But you have had such a long night, and the warmth of these blankets are so nice, you couldn't possible move at such an early hour as this, and the pitter patter of the rain on the roof is drumming to you and it is telling you that it is all ok if you sleep for just a little longer, class isn't going to be that important today anyways, and you can always skip it this one time, oh and remember the warm blankets..."
And you blankets seem to get thirty pounds heavier, and hold you down. And you become aware of all the little things that are making this sleeping thing so wonderful right now. "Well if you put it that way me, of course I will sleep in..." Who can resist themselves when they tell you to sleep more?...
But after you wake up from that extra hour or so of sleep, the notion comes that you probably missed something rather important in class, that you feel groggier than you did when you first woke up, and you missed out on an hour of the day that you could have been at least a little productive in...
So there comes these times early in the morning when you talk yourself into doing something, or not doing something. It comes when you don't have good judgment at all, and can hardly think straight, and what you can think straight about is the sleep that you are going to be missing when you get up at that moment... So if this tends to happen to you in the morning, do yourself a favor and don't listen to yourself...
Your "sense" comes along to help with these dilemmas at just these times, talking to you in the deepest parts of your head, those areas that echo all around and seem to make so much more sense every time they resound again... "But you have had such a long night, and the warmth of these blankets are so nice, you couldn't possible move at such an early hour as this, and the pitter patter of the rain on the roof is drumming to you and it is telling you that it is all ok if you sleep for just a little longer, class isn't going to be that important today anyways, and you can always skip it this one time, oh and remember the warm blankets..."
And you blankets seem to get thirty pounds heavier, and hold you down. And you become aware of all the little things that are making this sleeping thing so wonderful right now. "Well if you put it that way me, of course I will sleep in..." Who can resist themselves when they tell you to sleep more?...
But after you wake up from that extra hour or so of sleep, the notion comes that you probably missed something rather important in class, that you feel groggier than you did when you first woke up, and you missed out on an hour of the day that you could have been at least a little productive in...
So there comes these times early in the morning when you talk yourself into doing something, or not doing something. It comes when you don't have good judgment at all, and can hardly think straight, and what you can think straight about is the sleep that you are going to be missing when you get up at that moment... So if this tends to happen to you in the morning, do yourself a favor and don't listen to yourself...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
More pictures of you than what you were doing...
If you have ever been into stalking on facebook or myspace, or just wanted to look at the pictures form that crazy night of drinking that you and your friends had on Friday, but I find it strange that when you do there always seems to be more pictures of the person who owns the camera than pictures of what was really going on...
Is this a new style of photography that I never was told about? Or is it just bad choice of subject matter from the person that was holding the camera, or maybe they have low self esteem and need to see themselves in their albums to feel like they are a part of something... Well either way I don't understand this new fad.
I would much rather seen what Timmy was doing there in the background holding his foot and rolling on the ground at the bowling ally than that ghastly shot of you and your guy being blinded by a flash of light while trying to hold the camera out far enough and jam your head close to his so as to show what the wrinkles in your neck are going to look like in thirty years...
So remember that the rest of the world is interested in what you were doing, and whether or not Timmy died that night... Not so much about your neck...
Is this a new style of photography that I never was told about? Or is it just bad choice of subject matter from the person that was holding the camera, or maybe they have low self esteem and need to see themselves in their albums to feel like they are a part of something... Well either way I don't understand this new fad.
I would much rather seen what Timmy was doing there in the background holding his foot and rolling on the ground at the bowling ally than that ghastly shot of you and your guy being blinded by a flash of light while trying to hold the camera out far enough and jam your head close to his so as to show what the wrinkles in your neck are going to look like in thirty years...
So remember that the rest of the world is interested in what you were doing, and whether or not Timmy died that night... Not so much about your neck...
Monday, April 27, 2009
Talking while you type...
So when the time comes when there is a rather large paper that you need to write, or you just need to write your grandma and tell her that you have definitely been up to no good at all in the last three years that you haven't kept in touch with her, and you sit down at the computer to start that torturous business of going about it, that you start to dictate all of what you are thinking and typing out loud...
Maybe this is a symptom for the people that don't know how to keep "it" to themselves or just me. But I have noticed that most people do say everything that they are typing even if it is under their breath, or just little jittery lip seizures of words escaping their dungeon labyrinth's of the soul... Of course they could really be having a seizure and the "typing" that is going on is only their limp arms slamming down on the keyboard, in what I am sure would be a interesting read...
Well anyway, Talking while you write is something that people think is a shameful thing to do. 'Oh you were talking well you were over there... you're so weird..." But I find it very helpful to say what I am about to say right as I am typing it, at least under my breath a little bit, so that I can write what I am thinking exactly at that moment. Of course if you read anything that I write you might be completely lost, because I tend to write just as if I was talking, and I don't talk with the most clarity. But for me it is all about the feel and the moment that I think it, and if you can't understand it, don't think too hard, you're not going to...
So next time you are sitting in a room with someone that is writing a Email or a paper, and is dictating it to themselves, even if all you can see is the little jitters, try and write it down too. Who knows, you might find out their secret love, or just be able to cope their homework off of them and get a better grade then you were going to...
Maybe this is a symptom for the people that don't know how to keep "it" to themselves or just me. But I have noticed that most people do say everything that they are typing even if it is under their breath, or just little jittery lip seizures of words escaping their dungeon labyrinth's of the soul... Of course they could really be having a seizure and the "typing" that is going on is only their limp arms slamming down on the keyboard, in what I am sure would be a interesting read...
Well anyway, Talking while you write is something that people think is a shameful thing to do. 'Oh you were talking well you were over there... you're so weird..." But I find it very helpful to say what I am about to say right as I am typing it, at least under my breath a little bit, so that I can write what I am thinking exactly at that moment. Of course if you read anything that I write you might be completely lost, because I tend to write just as if I was talking, and I don't talk with the most clarity. But for me it is all about the feel and the moment that I think it, and if you can't understand it, don't think too hard, you're not going to...
So next time you are sitting in a room with someone that is writing a Email or a paper, and is dictating it to themselves, even if all you can see is the little jitters, try and write it down too. Who knows, you might find out their secret love, or just be able to cope their homework off of them and get a better grade then you were going to...
Friday, April 24, 2009
SQUEEEEEEEEEELLL!!!...
One of the things that I can't seem to understand, is why guys think that it is cool to squeel their tires in front of girls...
Typical college setting; some moron in a car at a stop sign, a few girls walking on the sidewalk, and one dumb moment... SQUEEELL!!... there he goes screeching around the corner and revving the engine as he goes, probably thinking that he left the scene looking like a BA, but back at the sidewalk were the poor girl are coughing to death because of the quite horrible smoke that was left behind from his now half worn down tires, they are cursing his name...
I can see it if you are in a drift race, or you are a hick out in the middle of a mud pit (and that isn't knocking hick... they know how to have some fun). But on a regular street in you mom's Civic?... Not so much...
Typical college setting; some moron in a car at a stop sign, a few girls walking on the sidewalk, and one dumb moment... SQUEEELL!!... there he goes screeching around the corner and revving the engine as he goes, probably thinking that he left the scene looking like a BA, but back at the sidewalk were the poor girl are coughing to death because of the quite horrible smoke that was left behind from his now half worn down tires, they are cursing his name...
I can see it if you are in a drift race, or you are a hick out in the middle of a mud pit (and that isn't knocking hick... they know how to have some fun). But on a regular street in you mom's Civic?... Not so much...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Facebook flunkers...
In classes of three hundred people you are sure to find a few people that like to surf facebook or myspace on the net while the professor is giving his lecture. There body is here in class getting that attendance point, but their minds are off in lala land having fun chatting with their roommate about the hot guy that sits in front of them or the party that they are going to go get wasted at later...
For some reason college students think that this is actually a cool thing to do, but little do they realize that that is the reason that they are going to flunk all the classes that they are taking, like that one girl that sits behind me in class that flunked all four of her freshman year classes... How do you do that? all you have to do is show up and listen, and you will pass with a C at least, that is if you can retain any information in your brain at all...
Anyway, here is to all the flunking AB students that think stalking people on facebook during classes is worth their time, and their fathers money...
For some reason college students think that this is actually a cool thing to do, but little do they realize that that is the reason that they are going to flunk all the classes that they are taking, like that one girl that sits behind me in class that flunked all four of her freshman year classes... How do you do that? all you have to do is show up and listen, and you will pass with a C at least, that is if you can retain any information in your brain at all...
Anyway, here is to all the flunking AB students that think stalking people on facebook during classes is worth their time, and their fathers money...
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Tall riders...
Driving down the street you see it, the truck that has been so far jacked off the ground that a parade of elephants could pass underneath without getting a bump on the head... Why do people think that to be better you need to be bigger, or taller? All the tall people that I know don't seem too fond of being tall all the time, the head is a fragile thing that has a natural tendency to be attracted to hard sharp items at the same level...
Anyway, the needs of some people to have there trucks so high off the ground that you need a parachute to jump out of them is one of the most AB ideas ever... I like my legs, and I would rather not break one every time that I wanted to go to the mall...
The only time that the truck needs to be that high is if you want to be able to change your oil standing up, either that or so that you can get through rush hour in a breeze...
Anyway, the needs of some people to have there trucks so high off the ground that you need a parachute to jump out of them is one of the most AB ideas ever... I like my legs, and I would rather not break one every time that I wanted to go to the mall...
The only time that the truck needs to be that high is if you want to be able to change your oil standing up, either that or so that you can get through rush hour in a breeze...
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Greek music...
Walking through campus, always a nightmare, and we all know that the typical Frat guy is not cool already but they try so hard to fit in that every once in a while they do do something of merit. Anyway there they are, out on the veranda of their house and in the yard, tossing the old pig skin around, or the Wham-O Frisbee, and blaring music with the four foot high speakers that they all seem to own. Well alright, this is fun, I love to do all of the above with friends of my own, so you nod your head in acceptance while walking by trying to ignore the low riding pants and giving them the benefit of the doubt that they are trying in this instant to fit in with the rest of humanity. Then the lyrics from their music drift ever so painfully into your head...
"Like waking up too early, Maybe we can sleep in, I'll make you banana pancakes, Pretend like it's the weekend noooow..."
And from that moment, all the rigorous efforts put forth by these guys to be seen as cool have gone down the drain with that one Jack Johnson song blaring forth from their front stoop... If there was anything that could make up for how AB that is, they would have to sell the souls of all the brothers in the house to satin, and have him give them all mad, raving skills on the guitar, or something stunningly similar to pull themselves out from the hole that they have so willingly dug and dove head first into...
So next time you are going to have an "all man bash" outside your door, so that all the girls walking by can see you... Listen to something that reflects the inner you, and if that inned you is J.J., you might want to consult a doctor...
"Like waking up too early, Maybe we can sleep in, I'll make you banana pancakes, Pretend like it's the weekend noooow..."
And from that moment, all the rigorous efforts put forth by these guys to be seen as cool have gone down the drain with that one Jack Johnson song blaring forth from their front stoop... If there was anything that could make up for how AB that is, they would have to sell the souls of all the brothers in the house to satin, and have him give them all mad, raving skills on the guitar, or something stunningly similar to pull themselves out from the hole that they have so willingly dug and dove head first into...
So next time you are going to have an "all man bash" outside your door, so that all the girls walking by can see you... Listen to something that reflects the inner you, and if that inned you is J.J., you might want to consult a doctor...
Monday, April 20, 2009
Low riders...
Walking down the street, and this is every and any street that you come by, there they are, the most unBA people that you will ever see... The guys that think that it is cool to have their pants draped down to their ankles, showing the new boxers that they got from their mom for Christmas that say "hot stuff" all over with little chili peppers dancing around the words. Or even worse, it is the pair that have been with them through thick and thin, their "special" pair that have almost nothing left to cover up the zits on the buttocks...
In spite of the fact that it makes you look like a dip, walking around like a penguin all the time doesn't help your coolness either. But it would be funny to watch a hallway full of these ABs waddling around frantically during a fire...
So next time you think about letting you drawers drop lower than your crack to show off the new pair of boxers, or God help us if they are your briefs, don't. Save our eyes and your pride...
In spite of the fact that it makes you look like a dip, walking around like a penguin all the time doesn't help your coolness either. But it would be funny to watch a hallway full of these ABs waddling around frantically during a fire...
So next time you think about letting you drawers drop lower than your crack to show off the new pair of boxers, or God help us if they are your briefs, don't. Save our eyes and your pride...
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Now, This week...
Now that I have ranted about a few of the things that make you BA, I decided that I will do the opposite... Because while trying to think of things that make you BA I thought of way more things that go the opposite way... Those things that people do that they think are going to set a new trend, or at least be thought of as cool by some girl that they are trying to impress, which of course, goes SOOOO wrong, and they have to hide in a cave for the rest of their lives to keep out of the eyes of the public so as not to be laughed at...
Here is a week to all the things that make people oh so very NOT BA... We shall call it the week long exposé of all things AB (A** BAD)...
Here is a week to all the things that make people oh so very NOT BA... We shall call it the week long exposé of all things AB (A** BAD)...
Friday, April 17, 2009
Glass eyes and peg legs...
When an accident happens, say uncle Jon was having too much fun playing with your M80's on the 4th of July while keeping his reputation of always holding a beer in his hand, and little Timmy thought it would be funny to light one early, I think you get the picture here... Well after all this, and the urge, not only to herbal, but to kill has gone down, a prosthetic limb is in order. A working slightly nice looking replica of an arm or leg, assuming that Uncle Jon dropped it and tried putting it out by stomping on it, gets put in the place of the missing appendage...
OK so what is BA about that? nothing really, the BA is when Uncle Jon refuses to wear that piece of garbage and gets a wooden peg leg... Splinters, cramps, and total discomfort, that is what makes him BA. Apart from the fact that he could kick you real well and keep you in pain while it doesn't bother him at all...
So recap, peg legs are BA... but if you want to top that, have little Timmy put that M80 into a glass jar and open one eye and stand a few feet off so that a piece of glass gouges it out. Then you can get a glass eye, and there is no limit to how much fun you could have with that thing...
OK so what is BA about that? nothing really, the BA is when Uncle Jon refuses to wear that piece of garbage and gets a wooden peg leg... Splinters, cramps, and total discomfort, that is what makes him BA. Apart from the fact that he could kick you real well and keep you in pain while it doesn't bother him at all...
So recap, peg legs are BA... but if you want to top that, have little Timmy put that M80 into a glass jar and open one eye and stand a few feet off so that a piece of glass gouges it out. Then you can get a glass eye, and there is no limit to how much fun you could have with that thing...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Speek...
When you are in that bind, the kind where Germans or Russians (USSR style), and God help you if it is the French, have cornered your group because they think that you're spies that have infiltrated their secret base intent on stealing the "secret plans" and destroying the complex as you make your escape, which you do fully intend to do of course, and you can't get out of the predicament because you don't know what they are saying, all you know is that they have all the guns and you don't... I always hatted it when this happened, but that is also the times when the BA steps in...
He starts to talk to them, in German/Russian/French and says something that you can only imagine as being something about 'you are just the janitors and the other three of you are mute, and that is why you aren't responding to their yells of 'put your hands in the air'.' And after a few minutes of collaborating, they leave you be and you end up blowing them all sky high and to kingdom come anyways. The guy that knows how to speak a different language and pipes in just at the right moment to save your life, or just let your teacher know that your dog really did eat your homework, is the real BA...
Or if you don't really know another language, but you want to impress your date. Have a friend ''mug'' you yelling that gibberish the two of you created to tick off your mothers, and so you could talk about dirty things at the table and they wouldn't know, and start yelling it back at him and pretend to get in a verbal argument and make it seem as though you have the bigger wit so that he runs off. The best way to use this tactic is with an Indian force, while you are leading a small group of helpless settlers into the west...
He starts to talk to them, in German/Russian/French and says something that you can only imagine as being something about 'you are just the janitors and the other three of you are mute, and that is why you aren't responding to their yells of 'put your hands in the air'.' And after a few minutes of collaborating, they leave you be and you end up blowing them all sky high and to kingdom come anyways. The guy that knows how to speak a different language and pipes in just at the right moment to save your life, or just let your teacher know that your dog really did eat your homework, is the real BA...
Or if you don't really know another language, but you want to impress your date. Have a friend ''mug'' you yelling that gibberish the two of you created to tick off your mothers, and so you could talk about dirty things at the table and they wouldn't know, and start yelling it back at him and pretend to get in a verbal argument and make it seem as though you have the bigger wit so that he runs off. The best way to use this tactic is with an Indian force, while you are leading a small group of helpless settlers into the west...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The BA bathrobe...
The common bathrobe, any color and pattern that you desire, but stripes are the preferred style, can say a lot about a situation when someone greets you at the front door. Either you just woke him from a nap, it has become tea time and you have shown up at just the right moment for crumpets, or he has just saved the San Fransisco bay area from being blown up and needed to listen to Beatles, play guitar, and relax.
Well that robe that has been so often overlook, could just be the thing that you need to start that career in the BA lifestyle that you have been searching so long for. So pick one up put it on and feel the BA soak into your being as you walk around the house. Walking around the house is suggested before turning yourself loose into the unexpecting world, so that you can make sure that the houseplants that you have and maybe even your pet ferret can handle it first before you go and kill some old lady walking down the road minding her own business on the way to get her prescription drugs from the corner store when you come along and give her a heart attack from the BAness that is being so heavily emitted from your being...
But if you are really a BA, you will throw on your bathrobe and go out, hitch a ride into the universe, and travel the galaxies with no shame what so ever...
Well that robe that has been so often overlook, could just be the thing that you need to start that career in the BA lifestyle that you have been searching so long for. So pick one up put it on and feel the BA soak into your being as you walk around the house. Walking around the house is suggested before turning yourself loose into the unexpecting world, so that you can make sure that the houseplants that you have and maybe even your pet ferret can handle it first before you go and kill some old lady walking down the road minding her own business on the way to get her prescription drugs from the corner store when you come along and give her a heart attack from the BAness that is being so heavily emitted from your being...
But if you are really a BA, you will throw on your bathrobe and go out, hitch a ride into the universe, and travel the galaxies with no shame what so ever...
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
That guy that beats the living crap out of your friend conversationally...
We all hang out with someone that thinks that they know everything. They like to run their mouth as if it was on the highest setting of a treadmill. Until one day when your group of friends is standing outside the local coffee shop, for that is the best to stand, and your friend is going off on a tangent, talking about something he thinks so important. Then he comes...
Passing by, this guy overhears what your friend is talking about and stops, lets him finish (because he is a gentleman like that) and ask you friend a question about that subject. Your friend answers his question quite well, or at least you think he did until this guy starts to respond and lays into him using language that even a forth grader could pick up on. Your friend, who thought he was a god for knowing everything is struck utterly speechless. After the guy is done talking, he gives your friend a chance to respond, but the blank eyes, open mouth, and drool pouring from his face seem to imply that he has nothing to say, and he has realized that he is, in fact, dumber than a rock as his mother told him.
When that guy bids you all a good day and walks off, you have to admit to yourself, he is so BA...
Passing by, this guy overhears what your friend is talking about and stops, lets him finish (because he is a gentleman like that) and ask you friend a question about that subject. Your friend answers his question quite well, or at least you think he did until this guy starts to respond and lays into him using language that even a forth grader could pick up on. Your friend, who thought he was a god for knowing everything is struck utterly speechless. After the guy is done talking, he gives your friend a chance to respond, but the blank eyes, open mouth, and drool pouring from his face seem to imply that he has nothing to say, and he has realized that he is, in fact, dumber than a rock as his mother told him.
When that guy bids you all a good day and walks off, you have to admit to yourself, he is so BA...
Monday, April 13, 2009
Cigarettes in a dark place...
When you walk by an ally, or any pitch black room, and see that red cherry waving around from the end of a freshly lit smoke, you can't help but know that that guy is BA.
Think about why he need that cigarette so badly... Did he just give the best guitar solo in known existence and had to step out and smoke to calm this nerves? Is it because he just got done killing someone and the body is lying there in the dark and you are unable to see it? Or is it the Smoker and you are the next target for the alien abduction program? Who knows. That little bit of glowing red in the dark makes that guy BA.
Next time that you are out on a killing rampage, or stalking the next victim for abduction, try to be in a dark room and light one up, and who knows, maybe you will be as BA as that guy...
Think about why he need that cigarette so badly... Did he just give the best guitar solo in known existence and had to step out and smoke to calm this nerves? Is it because he just got done killing someone and the body is lying there in the dark and you are unable to see it? Or is it the Smoker and you are the next target for the alien abduction program? Who knows. That little bit of glowing red in the dark makes that guy BA.
Next time that you are out on a killing rampage, or stalking the next victim for abduction, try to be in a dark room and light one up, and who knows, maybe you will be as BA as that guy...
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Toothpick in the corner of the mouth...
Think about it, that guy that just walked out of that restaurant strutting down the road, has made that strut up by having a toothpick in his mouth. It can only imagined what he has done with that toothpick, flicked it into a robbers jugular to stop a theft and instantly becoming famous and getting free meals for life, use it to kill all the waitresses in the place and pull their eyeballs out of their heads and eat them, or even... picked his teeth...
No matter what it was, that toothpick is making him BA. And if you want to step it up a bit, use a match. Then you are up there with the great BAs, like Cobra. But watch out while attempting matches, you could find yourself tipping over barrels of gas all over the place and lighting things up into blazing infernos...
No matter what it was, that toothpick is making him BA. And if you want to step it up a bit, use a match. Then you are up there with the great BAs, like Cobra. But watch out while attempting matches, you could find yourself tipping over barrels of gas all over the place and lighting things up into blazing infernos...
Saturday, April 11, 2009
This week...
This next week kicks it off! A week long exposé of all things BA!...
The week is dedicated to the things that people do that have you look at them and say to yourself, 'that guy is so cool.' And you might get some ideas for yourself durring all this and become the BA that you knew you always were, but your mom worked so hard to suppress...
This might be lengthened if more things come to mind...
So get readdy to have your minds blown like the shark in JAWS, and in the words of the great BA himself, "hold on to your butts."...
The week is dedicated to the things that people do that have you look at them and say to yourself, 'that guy is so cool.' And you might get some ideas for yourself durring all this and become the BA that you knew you always were, but your mom worked so hard to suppress...
This might be lengthened if more things come to mind...
So get readdy to have your minds blown like the shark in JAWS, and in the words of the great BA himself, "hold on to your butts."...
Friday, April 10, 2009
Action Movies of the 90's...
Late 80's and early 90's action movies, contrary to the belief that all who made them need to be shot, then shot again, then shot once more for good measure, are really quite good.
You might be thinking 'but all those cheesy lines, and the cars that explode in the middle of falling off a cliff, and the bad plot lines, and the predictability, why would I ever want to go watch those movies again?' What you fail to realise, and yes they did suck like a hoover when they came out, is that they are so much fun to watch now.
Bruce Willis movies have been the target of my early 90's movie watching lately, and I have to say that it has been some of the most entertaining times that I have had since that day... never mind, just know that I am entertained greatly. And even those cheese lines have there uses, next time I beat someone down with a surfboard I will be sure to say "Surfs up!" right as I bash them in the face. And as for the cars randomly exploding, it is something to look forward to... 'is it?... will it?... YEAH!" everything explodes on cue, you can even make side bets with others watching the movie beforehand on how many cars will randomly blow up in the movie.
Today we are way too into making things look believable that we have forgotten that it is all fake anyways. So I say that you should go out and rent an old action film tonight and have fun watching it, I suggest Hudson Hawk. Who knows, you might find that you really enjoyed watching it more than anything you have seen lately...
You might be thinking 'but all those cheesy lines, and the cars that explode in the middle of falling off a cliff, and the bad plot lines, and the predictability, why would I ever want to go watch those movies again?' What you fail to realise, and yes they did suck like a hoover when they came out, is that they are so much fun to watch now.
Bruce Willis movies have been the target of my early 90's movie watching lately, and I have to say that it has been some of the most entertaining times that I have had since that day... never mind, just know that I am entertained greatly. And even those cheese lines have there uses, next time I beat someone down with a surfboard I will be sure to say "Surfs up!" right as I bash them in the face. And as for the cars randomly exploding, it is something to look forward to... 'is it?... will it?... YEAH!" everything explodes on cue, you can even make side bets with others watching the movie beforehand on how many cars will randomly blow up in the movie.
Today we are way too into making things look believable that we have forgotten that it is all fake anyways. So I say that you should go out and rent an old action film tonight and have fun watching it, I suggest Hudson Hawk. Who knows, you might find that you really enjoyed watching it more than anything you have seen lately...
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The right...
Everyone, whether they know it or not conforms. There are many things that we conform to, believing that there were dinosaurs, putting on deodorant, and even walking our dogs (woof woof). But why do we conform to 'this move on the right' idea? In America, "!@#$ YEAH" we have to pass on the right. Walking down the street, pass right, riding a bike, pass right, cruising on your Velociraptor, pass right, and even driving, RIGHT!
Driving must be the cause of all this mess. A mess that is comparable to little Timmy when he first got to feed himself. Think about driving, it does makes sense, just like the moon being made out of cheese, cheese Gromit cheese. Well, if you think about the lines on the road and why they are there, and no they aren't there because it was bland and needed a little color, you understand that because you are going so fast in one direction, and someone else in the other direction, you need to have reference about where to be so as not the become one person, and not in the married sense. Yet we have lived with this idea for so long that it has rubbed off into our minds like a piece of poo gets rubbed into the carpet.
And this idea has been pushed upon every other moving habit. When you walk down the street, notice
that people move to the right to go by, but why? there is plenty of sidewalk for the both of us, and I was on that side first, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME ALTER MY PATH OF SHORTEST DISTANCE!
This right side only mentality has to go. People need to learn that there is no specific side that you have to pass on sidewalks. Think back to the good ol' days of the horse and cart. They didn't care what side of the road they were on, because if there was someone coming, there was ample time to move their cart to one side or the other. There was probably enough time as they passed to have a good long conversation without stopping.
So now I make it a mission in life, to be free of the bonds, the chains, the restrictive restraints of passing always to the right. If I'm on the left, and you aren't moving, I will go even further to the left, even if that means that I will be dodging traffic to get passed you. So observe what happens when you walk down the street next, do they all pass to the right? and if so, move to the left and screw whit their heads...
Driving must be the cause of all this mess. A mess that is comparable to little Timmy when he first got to feed himself. Think about driving, it does makes sense, just like the moon being made out of cheese, cheese Gromit cheese. Well, if you think about the lines on the road and why they are there, and no they aren't there because it was bland and needed a little color, you understand that because you are going so fast in one direction, and someone else in the other direction, you need to have reference about where to be so as not the become one person, and not in the married sense. Yet we have lived with this idea for so long that it has rubbed off into our minds like a piece of poo gets rubbed into the carpet.
And this idea has been pushed upon every other moving habit. When you walk down the street, notice
that people move to the right to go by, but why? there is plenty of sidewalk for the both of us, and I was on that side first, HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME ALTER MY PATH OF SHORTEST DISTANCE!
This right side only mentality has to go. People need to learn that there is no specific side that you have to pass on sidewalks. Think back to the good ol' days of the horse and cart. They didn't care what side of the road they were on, because if there was someone coming, there was ample time to move their cart to one side or the other. There was probably enough time as they passed to have a good long conversation without stopping.
So now I make it a mission in life, to be free of the bonds, the chains, the restrictive restraints of passing always to the right. If I'm on the left, and you aren't moving, I will go even further to the left, even if that means that I will be dodging traffic to get passed you. So observe what happens when you walk down the street next, do they all pass to the right? and if so, move to the left and screw whit their heads...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Slow...
Everyone knows that time can be so inconvenient. You need to go shopping, give a speech at the UN world council, take a bath in pure Fiji water, and give that patient a enema before you can get to dinner with your amazingly hot spouse. All these minute things will take up time that seems to be running away with your trousers, but have you ever thought of the times when time seemed to slow down like your brain on drugs?
As when time speeds up, always being at the most inconvenient moments, it seems to slow down as well in the same way. This event happens when you least want it, waiting for the phone call from the IRS, giving birth, or even falling to your death. This never ceases to blow my mind.
Story: I was in Bucers the other day, sitting, drinking coffee, and having slightly awkward and scattered conversations with someone else in the room, waiting for five to roll around so that I could go to work. It was four, so I lit up a pipe (which usually it takes me forty-five minutes to smoke), filled with God given Black Cavendish, and puffed away, quite like Popeye the sailor man. After I had smoked what I knew was about a good half of the bowl, I looked at the clock, for surely it was now half past four. No, it was seven past four. Strange, so I smoked the rest of my pipe and looked again, thirteen past. I don't know if it was how I packed that pipe that day, of I was in a furry to get as much nicotine out of it as I could, but I was perturbed.
So I spent the rest of that time waiting thinking about these times of slowness that are upon us. Maybe we are to be looking for an opportunity to do something more productive with our lives in them, or maybe they are there so that you can enjoy two bowls of tobacco for the time of one...
As when time speeds up, always being at the most inconvenient moments, it seems to slow down as well in the same way. This event happens when you least want it, waiting for the phone call from the IRS, giving birth, or even falling to your death. This never ceases to blow my mind.
Story: I was in Bucers the other day, sitting, drinking coffee, and having slightly awkward and scattered conversations with someone else in the room, waiting for five to roll around so that I could go to work. It was four, so I lit up a pipe (which usually it takes me forty-five minutes to smoke), filled with God given Black Cavendish, and puffed away, quite like Popeye the sailor man. After I had smoked what I knew was about a good half of the bowl, I looked at the clock, for surely it was now half past four. No, it was seven past four. Strange, so I smoked the rest of my pipe and looked again, thirteen past. I don't know if it was how I packed that pipe that day, of I was in a furry to get as much nicotine out of it as I could, but I was perturbed.
So I spent the rest of that time waiting thinking about these times of slowness that are upon us. Maybe we are to be looking for an opportunity to do something more productive with our lives in them, or maybe they are there so that you can enjoy two bowls of tobacco for the time of one...
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
A need to talk to that guy...
Maybe it is just me, but when I walk down the street, for I generally walk down streets as a principal of nature, and somebody is following me, I feel a strange need to say something to them. Especially if both of us have just stopped at a crosswalk to wait for light to change.
Assuming that this person isn't a staler, because you all know that I am so very famous and amazingly hot, or an assassin that is going to pull a knife on me as soon as I round a corner into an ally, joke would be on him for I'm a professional killer myself, at least in dreams, there is a moment when you look up at the that person and wonder if you know him, or if they have an interesting life. Who knows they could have saved the world yesterday and you owe them your thanks for warding off the dragon invasion.
Even sometimes when you are talking to people that you know, you can end up saying something that is vitally important to them and what they have been thinking about for that last few days and put there mind at ease like, "you know that the earth is in fact banana shaped!"
Well I think we all will have to start talking more to strangers that are following us around, even the ugly ones, and see what their lives have been about. You never know, you might meet someone that has fought off a dragon invasion just yesterday...
Assuming that this person isn't a staler, because you all know that I am so very famous and amazingly hot, or an assassin that is going to pull a knife on me as soon as I round a corner into an ally, joke would be on him for I'm a professional killer myself, at least in dreams, there is a moment when you look up at the that person and wonder if you know him, or if they have an interesting life. Who knows they could have saved the world yesterday and you owe them your thanks for warding off the dragon invasion.
Even sometimes when you are talking to people that you know, you can end up saying something that is vitally important to them and what they have been thinking about for that last few days and put there mind at ease like, "you know that the earth is in fact banana shaped!"
Well I think we all will have to start talking more to strangers that are following us around, even the ugly ones, and see what their lives have been about. You never know, you might meet someone that has fought off a dragon invasion just yesterday...
Monday, April 6, 2009
Temptation...
Never in my life did I think of being tempted as small matters, but I never thought of being tempted in small matters. A temptation has to be something huge right? Someone on the street corner scantly clad calling your name, like it talks about all over in Proverbs. That or a long strung out series of events or trials that don't have anything to do with what you are, as if you were crashed on an island that had a bunch of crazy wild creatures and natives that were out for your blood, and it took a year for anyone to find you, and you had to live off the vegetation and other grub that you could scrounge up, but of course you will persevere and come out on top. But I never thought that much about the everyday, individual, temptations that people fall to.
I heard from someone that C. S. Lewis wrote (because I haven't read it yet) that the devil will temp you in little things throughout the day, food, drink, reading, whatever you like to do. It is the devils way to keep your focus off the important and on the unimportant.
I have found this to be true in life lately. Here I sit, in the middle of fasting, and I have been bombarded with more chances to eat good food inside of this week than I ever do in a two month span. Even right now I have a chocolate coin that someone gave me a moment ago sitting by the keyboard as I type, and I am chuckling at how low that was of the devil, and thanking God for everything...
I heard from someone that C. S. Lewis wrote (because I haven't read it yet) that the devil will temp you in little things throughout the day, food, drink, reading, whatever you like to do. It is the devils way to keep your focus off the important and on the unimportant.
I have found this to be true in life lately. Here I sit, in the middle of fasting, and I have been bombarded with more chances to eat good food inside of this week than I ever do in a two month span. Even right now I have a chocolate coin that someone gave me a moment ago sitting by the keyboard as I type, and I am chuckling at how low that was of the devil, and thanking God for everything...
Friday, April 3, 2009
Clicky pens...
The pen or the pencil? that has been a long outstanding question that writers have asked themselves. Of course it all depends on what you are writing, who is going to see/read it, and of course what is available at the time. If you are taking notes in a class, either one works well, but I prefer a pencil because it offers a chance to create works of art on my notes with ease of erasing if I screw up (artwork from my notes might be made available sometime... whether that is whenever I get time to do it, or when the flying pigs invade the earth and take all the worlds supply of apples for themselves, we shall see...) If the writing is in a journal, pen is best. Well designed pens that let ink flow freely make quick sloppy writing easy for all, and with all of the smudges, people won't be able to tell the difference between those and your tears that you cried over the cute boy that rejected you because you never talk to anybody and always wear black and sit in the corners taking notes on the movements of all the other kids in the school...
Well the point that I was going for was about the high and mighty clicky pen. It is the Excalibur of the world of pens. And some of the best that I have ever had came from banks that insist on trying to put all the info on the pens body, someday look with a magnifying glass and you can find and read all the terms of their loans there too. Don't think that all click pens out there are good, NO, most of them are directly designed by the devil himself to taunt the student, professional businessman, and the guy writing things in other peoples journals. I'm referring to the most simple form of the clicky pen; cap, shaft (no, not that black guy), and the clicker end piece that has the convenient plastic strip that gives you the ability to attach it to your pocket protector, be something to chew, on or hook onto your lip to keep it safe in class despite the looks from others thinking how cool you are for hanging your pen from your lips. These are the clicky pens of clicky pens. The James Bond of the writing tool world, and speaking of James Bond, you can make grenades out of them too if you are so inclined.
So it you ever are in a bank and see a stash of these pens, take one, they are free, or else I am wanted on numerous counts of theft, and try it out. Take it apart and look at how simple the whole contraption is, and shoot a spit wad at your sister while you're at it. If you don't fall in love with them at first click, don't tell me and ruin my dreams ok...
So it you ever are in a bank and see a stash of these pens, take one, they are free, or else I am wanted on numerous counts of theft, and try it out. Take it apart and look at how simple the whole contraption is, and shoot a spit wad at your sister while you're at it. If you don't fall in love with them at first click, don't tell me and ruin my dreams ok...
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Spring...
Walking to class today through three inches of wet, slushy, snow on all the sidewalks for fifteen blocks, I decided that spring isn't fun at all. In fact it is the most gloomy, depressing time of year. There are studies that say the most depressing time of the year is around Christmas time, because of the lack of families in America to be with, and all the lawyers find themselves kissing the pavement outside of their skyscraper offices (and blonde's picking themselves out of the mud in the gardens outside of their ground floor apartments). But what they don't tell you is that after the cheerful festive times in winter, the next killer of the depressed is spring.
People say that spring is their favorite time of year, EVER! but I think that they are all mistaken. They like the ideas behind spring, not spring itself. The idea is that all things are becoming new again. The leaves are budding out, flowers start to bloom, Easter and that bunny that is somehow attached to the holiday, animals returning, ahhh how cute the world is in spring. Of course let's not forget about the SEX aspect of it all. Reproduction is all over, and that casts loads of pheromones and hormones into the air, the other reason that this is the second biggest killer of lawyers.
But we all forget that spring is the mucky, nasty, rain filled, horror weather of the year that keeps you confined to your house for three months. Walt Disney needs to have all of the creative department drug out and shot for their clearly inaccurate depiction of this time.
Remember that it is not the weather outside that you like, it is really the little sensors in your nose that are picking up signals from that hot, PHAT, guy/girl over at the next table...
People say that spring is their favorite time of year, EVER! but I think that they are all mistaken. They like the ideas behind spring, not spring itself. The idea is that all things are becoming new again. The leaves are budding out, flowers start to bloom, Easter and that bunny that is somehow attached to the holiday, animals returning, ahhh how cute the world is in spring. Of course let's not forget about the SEX aspect of it all. Reproduction is all over, and that casts loads of pheromones and hormones into the air, the other reason that this is the second biggest killer of lawyers.
But we all forget that spring is the mucky, nasty, rain filled, horror weather of the year that keeps you confined to your house for three months. Walt Disney needs to have all of the creative department drug out and shot for their clearly inaccurate depiction of this time.
Remember that it is not the weather outside that you like, it is really the little sensors in your nose that are picking up signals from that hot, PHAT, guy/girl over at the next table...
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
That's not a convenient coke dispenser...
Bathrooms are gross, murky, dirty, rank, foul, grubby, and nasty place, and usually the ultimate source of praise to travelers. These rooms, be they the outside boxes that are so strategically placed along ridiculously long roads leading to far off places that turn out to not be as fun as the places that you just left, or the corner of the house that you live in devoted to being off limits for a half hour after each use, or the hard to find rooms that are located down long dead end halls in large buildings, they always seem to satisfy your longing for them to have their own personal maid in the corner.
Well with the dirt, and grim left on the floor, there is something that can make a bathroom one of the coolest places that you could visit in a day, and don't ask Idaho Senator what that is, they won't tell you the truth. I'm talking about powdered soap.
Jitters run up and down my spine when I walk into a bathroom and see that old box with a little metal nob underneath. A quick glance at the floor and I let out a little squeak of joy, there it is, the powder on the floor, and no, that is a stash of cocaine there for your convenience to take into a stall, it is soap, and would not be very pleasant in the nasal cavities. Apart from the amazing cleaning ability that powdered soap offers the hands, it is fun to hit that little knob and let a little pile of dry soap coat your whole hand, then rub the dry grittiness into all the crevasses and rinse it all off... oh the satisfaction of it... Every time that I have to go into a bathroom, I wonder if it is going to be the one...
If you ever find one out there, something to remember, don't snort...
Well with the dirt, and grim left on the floor, there is something that can make a bathroom one of the coolest places that you could visit in a day, and don't ask Idaho Senator what that is, they won't tell you the truth. I'm talking about powdered soap.
Jitters run up and down my spine when I walk into a bathroom and see that old box with a little metal nob underneath. A quick glance at the floor and I let out a little squeak of joy, there it is, the powder on the floor, and no, that is a stash of cocaine there for your convenience to take into a stall, it is soap, and would not be very pleasant in the nasal cavities. Apart from the amazing cleaning ability that powdered soap offers the hands, it is fun to hit that little knob and let a little pile of dry soap coat your whole hand, then rub the dry grittiness into all the crevasses and rinse it all off... oh the satisfaction of it... Every time that I have to go into a bathroom, I wonder if it is going to be the one...
If you ever find one out there, something to remember, don't snort...
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Everybody dance...
Every once in a while when walking down the street something happens that is not normally looked at as being "normal" in society in this day and age. Be it you, or the guy who just walked out of Hodgens Drugs, one of you has an Ipod blasting away in the ears, surely causing cancer and the ears to bleed profusely, though you can't see it because the ear buds are blocking the blasts and jets of blood from recreating a scene from a Monty Python movie.
Well whether it is you or him, one of you is a little bit too much into the song at that fleeting span of time, and just had what can only be described as a "Michel Jackson moment" in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of you, or right in front of him.
Whether or not it was only mouthing the words and throwing the head around, probable horribly out of beat, or actually bursting out into the song, and at worst (I believe best) doing a quick whip spin and pointing up into the air in a pose of triumph, for only a a second, the other person DID just see that, and on the inside can't hold back the floodgates of laughter that have just had all of the seas released upon it.
As you look at him you both know what has happened, and refraining from "having a bonding moment" together, gazes are quickly averted to the sky, or the squirrel that just ran up the old guys leg across the street, nothing is to be said of this time that was shared between you and him on the street as both parties part. So I urge anyone that has just had themselves one of these MJ moments, to go ahead and liven it up, who knows you might make a new best friend that day...
Well whether it is you or him, one of you is a little bit too much into the song at that fleeting span of time, and just had what can only be described as a "Michel Jackson moment" in the middle of the sidewalk right in front of you, or right in front of him.
Whether or not it was only mouthing the words and throwing the head around, probable horribly out of beat, or actually bursting out into the song, and at worst (I believe best) doing a quick whip spin and pointing up into the air in a pose of triumph, for only a a second, the other person DID just see that, and on the inside can't hold back the floodgates of laughter that have just had all of the seas released upon it.
As you look at him you both know what has happened, and refraining from "having a bonding moment" together, gazes are quickly averted to the sky, or the squirrel that just ran up the old guys leg across the street, nothing is to be said of this time that was shared between you and him on the street as both parties part. So I urge anyone that has just had themselves one of these MJ moments, to go ahead and liven it up, who knows you might make a new best friend that day...
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Big Black Beatles...
Something that I wrote a long time ago, on a plane from Philadelphia to Seattle. My cousin was on the plane with me and thought that is sucked... Well if it ever becomes famous, I will frame a copy for her for Christmas...
Big Black Beatles
They fly in the night to hide the shame,
of what has become of their name,
the horror of that summer day,
when all colors gave away.
With pensive thought,
and a passive nature,
and on graceful wings to soar,
they fly on for evermore.
For far is their journey,
and wide is the search,
to find the colors,
of their true worth.
But this loss,
was not in vain,
for they found to fly,
is their greatest gain...
Oh, and the best part of the story behind this poem is that I left a copy in the seat pocket so that others could find it and read and enjoy it as well. And now I leave something to the same superbness as that one, so be looking...
Big Black Beatles
They fly in the night to hide the shame,
of what has become of their name,
the horror of that summer day,
when all colors gave away.
With pensive thought,
and a passive nature,
and on graceful wings to soar,
they fly on for evermore.
For far is their journey,
and wide is the search,
to find the colors,
of their true worth.
But this loss,
was not in vain,
for they found to fly,
is their greatest gain...
Oh, and the best part of the story behind this poem is that I left a copy in the seat pocket so that others could find it and read and enjoy it as well. And now I leave something to the same superbness as that one, so be looking...
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sound effects...
BOOM!, ZIP, ZOUZA, wooOOOO...OOOooow, DO, DONG, POW, DA DA DA!, DOODE, SPLAT, KAPOW, and many more random high pitched noises that come out in our everyday conversation are a necessity to life.
I am a firm believer that the sounds that we create when we talk to others should be a natural thing that happens everyday that we still breath. Yes it is true that you could just say "the car crashed into the tree and made a loud noise" but that isn't half as cool as, "the car hit the tree and BOOOOOSSSHHHCCCAAAABOOOOOM!!!" and throwing your hands up in the air is also a must at this point of stories.
I do understand that not everyone witnesses a car running into a tree everyday and exploding on impact, but you can always have a sound ready for any occasion... say that you have been involve in a gun shooting, don't say "and I was shot at," even if you say it with much enthusiasm it doesn't compare to; "and they shot at my like BANGBANGBANG!! RATATTATTATTAT!! PEWPEWPEW!! ZIPZOUNDZING!!!" with spittle spewing on all listeners, but they won't care that you just gave them your cold and many other hidden things from deep in your body, they will be way too enthralled by your story...
So think about the next time that you are going to tell someone about what happened to you today, is there a place for the hands to fly and the lips to fling spit to enhance your story? If so, do...
I am a firm believer that the sounds that we create when we talk to others should be a natural thing that happens everyday that we still breath. Yes it is true that you could just say "the car crashed into the tree and made a loud noise" but that isn't half as cool as, "the car hit the tree and BOOOOOSSSHHHCCCAAAABOOOOOM!!!" and throwing your hands up in the air is also a must at this point of stories.
I do understand that not everyone witnesses a car running into a tree everyday and exploding on impact, but you can always have a sound ready for any occasion... say that you have been involve in a gun shooting, don't say "and I was shot at," even if you say it with much enthusiasm it doesn't compare to; "and they shot at my like BANGBANGBANG!! RATATTATTATTAT!! PEWPEWPEW!! ZIPZOUNDZING!!!" with spittle spewing on all listeners, but they won't care that you just gave them your cold and many other hidden things from deep in your body, they will be way too enthralled by your story...
So think about the next time that you are going to tell someone about what happened to you today, is there a place for the hands to fly and the lips to fling spit to enhance your story? If so, do...
Friday, March 27, 2009
Entropy...
Landfills, that was the focus of topic in a class that I was in earlier today. The instructor was saying that that "landfills will never go away." Never? that's a big statement, like Obama's when he said that he would cure cancer in his presidency.
Anyway, I have been thinking about creation, and the natural entropy on man build structures and other things. I could go off at this point on many tangents about bad architecture and building things out of cheep materials so that companies can keep selling you and I the same stuff over and over again, but that I will save for another time. What I was really thinking, and trying to wrap my brain around, is what would happen to the world and all the stuff that we have created if all the human population, all the beings that have a this GREAT NEED to build things to have our lives made easier, died.
This idea, that no one would ever be roaming the earth anymore, is hard to think of. It is like trying to think about eternity, the universe and the lack of confinement to it, or how creepy kids television programs have become, just not really comprehensible. I always tend to think that there is always someone that is out there, like Mad Max, where is he in all of this? But you have to be able to think of human life as being completely annihilated.
Well to the point, I know that after a while, a long while, a long long while, so long of a while that evolutionists would cringe in fear of this length, that all the buildings, cars, boats, trash, and everything else that man has created, would return into the earth and the world would be as it was when first created by God. I find it crazy to think about, yet I know that if life ever stopped in the world, this fate that entropy would have in store, and does have in store, for all things, would come to pass. And that landfill that my professor said would never go away, would become a field that little furry creatures would play and romp and frolic in...
Anyway, I have been thinking about creation, and the natural entropy on man build structures and other things. I could go off at this point on many tangents about bad architecture and building things out of cheep materials so that companies can keep selling you and I the same stuff over and over again, but that I will save for another time. What I was really thinking, and trying to wrap my brain around, is what would happen to the world and all the stuff that we have created if all the human population, all the beings that have a this GREAT NEED to build things to have our lives made easier, died.
This idea, that no one would ever be roaming the earth anymore, is hard to think of. It is like trying to think about eternity, the universe and the lack of confinement to it, or how creepy kids television programs have become, just not really comprehensible. I always tend to think that there is always someone that is out there, like Mad Max, where is he in all of this? But you have to be able to think of human life as being completely annihilated.
Well to the point, I know that after a while, a long while, a long long while, so long of a while that evolutionists would cringe in fear of this length, that all the buildings, cars, boats, trash, and everything else that man has created, would return into the earth and the world would be as it was when first created by God. I find it crazy to think about, yet I know that if life ever stopped in the world, this fate that entropy would have in store, and does have in store, for all things, would come to pass. And that landfill that my professor said would never go away, would become a field that little furry creatures would play and romp and frolic in...
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Names...
Names. They are a funny thing. Multiple people are walking this planet with the same name attached to them as hoards of others others around. It seems that there are two interesting happenings that occur with this overabundance of people and a lack of differing names for all of them.
1. Somehow, all, or at least most of the people with similar names in this world, that have had the lotto wheel of names spun for them by those multi-organism being that brought their sorry little red butt into the world, look strangely similar to the other. Walking down the street you might see someone and say to yourself, "that looks like a Sarah, or a Gus, or a John, or a Mike" and you would probably be right if not very close. This strange phenomenon never fails to give me the heebiejeebies...
2. The other is this: even if you don't know the name of the person that you are talking to, you can still throw out a totally random name. Say he looks like John, just say it, and if you are not right they will kindly correct you with a "oh no, it's Jimmy," and there you have it, the mystery is solved, and the conversation can go on. Well most of them look the same anyway, so it is safe to say that you can just throw or drop names all over without consequence, like the crumbs of cookies from the Cookie Monsters mouth when he "eats" his treats. Unless you happen to get the snob that must have his name, "Zenderfield" said right (and if you can imagine that with a little chest poof it would be preferred) or he and his mother, and mother before her, and even her mother, will have a nervous breakdown right in front of you and storm off crying into the back room head in hands...
Of course there are people like me in the world. I don't care what you call me, as long as it isn't a name that needs asterisks in it to keep children's eyes from reading it. Case in point, I have been called Caleb by a barista for a few months, and I don't blame her, I do live with a Caleb that is similar in looks to me. I just don't care that much, as long as I am recognised by others as breathing, I'm fine with being called a Caleb or whatever else...
1. Somehow, all, or at least most of the people with similar names in this world, that have had the lotto wheel of names spun for them by those multi-organism being that brought their sorry little red butt into the world, look strangely similar to the other. Walking down the street you might see someone and say to yourself, "that looks like a Sarah, or a Gus, or a John, or a Mike" and you would probably be right if not very close. This strange phenomenon never fails to give me the heebiejeebies...
2. The other is this: even if you don't know the name of the person that you are talking to, you can still throw out a totally random name. Say he looks like John, just say it, and if you are not right they will kindly correct you with a "oh no, it's Jimmy," and there you have it, the mystery is solved, and the conversation can go on. Well most of them look the same anyway, so it is safe to say that you can just throw or drop names all over without consequence, like the crumbs of cookies from the Cookie Monsters mouth when he "eats" his treats. Unless you happen to get the snob that must have his name, "Zenderfield" said right (and if you can imagine that with a little chest poof it would be preferred) or he and his mother, and mother before her, and even her mother, will have a nervous breakdown right in front of you and storm off crying into the back room head in hands...
Of course there are people like me in the world. I don't care what you call me, as long as it isn't a name that needs asterisks in it to keep children's eyes from reading it. Case in point, I have been called Caleb by a barista for a few months, and I don't blame her, I do live with a Caleb that is similar in looks to me. I just don't care that much, as long as I am recognised by others as breathing, I'm fine with being called a Caleb or whatever else...
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
The old...
Have you ever been walking down a street and heard a dog barking at you. I'm sure everyone has, but have you ever looked at that dog and noticed that it was not the young pup that you had envisioned in your head, but rather an old grandpa of a dog that is barely standing on its own feet. Paying attention even closer, you might notice that that dog isn't even looking at you anymore. He knows that you are there, and he would love for you to leave so he can go back to doing whatever old dogs do at that age (I'm sure there have been studies done to find out), but his focus is elsewhere. It is as if he has become like an old geezer (I'm sure we all know at least one old geezer), that yells at little kids at a birthday party for little Timmy, because they came into the room that he was "taking a nap in" or "just resting the eyes for a bit in." He, the dog and the geezer, refuses to open his eyes to look at them, and even if you or the children stand as still as you could, so still that a T-Rex wouldn't see you, he always still seems to know that you and they are there and keeps on insisting with barks and moans, that the intruder leaves at once. And as long as the presence of a being can be felt the noises will not stop, and even as you walk away, you can still hear the warnings to you and others not to return...
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
That guy...
I was thinking tonight, I feel sorry for all the guys that thought that technology wasn't ever going to win out over older methods. Think about it, there WAS some guy, that when Mr. Bell came out with the telephone, thought that it was never going to fly. This guy HAD to go around buying up all the rights to things like Mores Code machines, the Pony Express, boy runners, and all things of that sort. I bet he was giggling himself to sleep each night with the thought that when this new "idea" fell, he was going to be SOOOO rich because HE, held all the rights to the old ways that were proven true, worthy, and faultless. But in the end the phone did catch on, and that guy was left with 'ashes in his hands' so to speak. I feel sorry for that guy...
This is it, and "it" might be bad news for all the world...
So I decided that to impact the world, I must have a blog. And this blog will start off as a nothing, and then grow, and oh how fast it will grow, so fast that peoples eyes will explode out of their heads as they try to proses all the information (or lack of said information) that is inputted upon their brains. I will overcome the odds, and rule with a iron fist... a fist that slams that keys of any and all computers that I can create a BLOGGING from... yes, and then I will have no reason to keep going when all is said and done, that I will release all the world back to whence it came, and all will be as it was before...
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