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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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)...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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."...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...