SHAZZAM
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
- I recently purchased Archer Farm's jalapeno savory pretzels. I was convinced that they would simply be tasty, rather than insanely hot and they also leave you with a disgusting taste in your mouth that lasts over night. Barf. I hope the buffalo wing-flavored bag I also bought leave a better taste in my mouth. I imagine they won't.
- I didn't comment on last week's American Idol for several reasons. First, I can't remember if I watched it live or if I had to download it to watch it. For some reason, there was a delay and I wasn't motivated to catch up after watching Wednesday's results show. Second, Melinda was voted off. Yes, I have said she wouldn't win because grannys aren't American Idols. However, the fact that Blake is in the final two over Melinda kind of makes me ill. If he beatboxes over anything on tonight's finals show, I...probably will just complain about it. Here's to a Jordin Sparks win.
- Apparently John Mayer and Jessica Simpson have broken up. Why is this news that people care about? With MSNBC, CBS, and FoxNews all featuring stories on this non-event, it seems that someone out there cares. I think our attention is better served in caring about and attempting to explain this.
- Bleh. I don't have much else to say. The job has me working 36 hours this week when I asked for 15-25. Not sure what that's about. Combine that with the summer class, and this week is kind of insane. I'm ready for it to be over. Geez.
- I didn't comment on last week's American Idol for several reasons. First, I can't remember if I watched it live or if I had to download it to watch it. For some reason, there was a delay and I wasn't motivated to catch up after watching Wednesday's results show. Second, Melinda was voted off. Yes, I have said she wouldn't win because grannys aren't American Idols. However, the fact that Blake is in the final two over Melinda kind of makes me ill. If he beatboxes over anything on tonight's finals show, I...probably will just complain about it. Here's to a Jordin Sparks win.
- Apparently John Mayer and Jessica Simpson have broken up. Why is this news that people care about? With MSNBC, CBS, and FoxNews all featuring stories on this non-event, it seems that someone out there cares. I think our attention is better served in caring about and attempting to explain this.
- Bleh. I don't have much else to say. The job has me working 36 hours this week when I asked for 15-25. Not sure what that's about. Combine that with the summer class, and this week is kind of insane. I'm ready for it to be over. Geez.
Labels: Lists, music, random, School, summer job, TV
¶ 5:30 PM 0 comments
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Just breathe...
- Finished my first year of grad school. It doesn't seem over yet. I start a summer school class on Monday. I think that may have something to do with it.
- My apartment is a serious mess. And I am too tired to clean it. But I must clean because I think all the movement of the dust has reactivated my allergies. I need the dust gone!
- I. do. not. want. to. go. to. school on Monday. Let me get a break! I don't think I'm going to do anything school related between now and then.
- I went to the gym today, but I don't know if I can justify ordering a pizza two days in one week. Even though I want one real bad.
- I'm trying to quit caffeine cold turkey. I've had some kind of soda each day since "I gave it up." I like to think I'm giving myself a kind of nicotine patch kind of thing, weening myself slowly off of it. But dang, I am kind of wiped out right now and I got lots o cleaning to do. No coffee!
- Don't know if I've said this, but I really like Ne-yo's new album. I hate the name "Ne-yo", but man can sing.
- Ugh, the pile of papers is calling me. Peace.
Edit:
- I may have taken to watching American Idol again. I am glad Chris and ol Baldy (I know he's not bald here, but he looks kind of funny) are gone now. Is it wrong to think he looks both like Boy George and "Powder"? And Chris. Like a broke Justin Timberlake. And he knows it. Oh well, we knew these two weren't going to win. How about Melinda? She can sing, but she also reminds me of someone's mom. Oooh, and I also think most of these folks could be the American Idol if they all got a bit of orthdontic work. Jordin. She's good, but dang, why "Livin On a Prayer"? Whhy!? I think that one should be left to kareoke and strip clubs (...or something not her). Am I the only one who thinks she also kind of looks like America Ferrera?
Who knows who is going to win. I don't think it will be Blake. He also reminds me of a broke JT, not in looks but in his wannabe dance moves, but with maybe some of that dude from "So You Think You Can Dance." Not that I ever watched that show. The beatboxing was pretty cool, but also kind of weird. Do you think Ruben or Carrie Underwood would stoop to such gimmicks? We'll see what happens next week.
- My apartment is a serious mess. And I am too tired to clean it. But I must clean because I think all the movement of the dust has reactivated my allergies. I need the dust gone!
- I. do. not. want. to. go. to. school on Monday. Let me get a break! I don't think I'm going to do anything school related between now and then.
- I went to the gym today, but I don't know if I can justify ordering a pizza two days in one week. Even though I want one real bad.
- I'm trying to quit caffeine cold turkey. I've had some kind of soda each day since "I gave it up." I like to think I'm giving myself a kind of nicotine patch kind of thing, weening myself slowly off of it. But dang, I am kind of wiped out right now and I got lots o cleaning to do. No coffee!
- Don't know if I've said this, but I really like Ne-yo's new album. I hate the name "Ne-yo", but man can sing.
- Ugh, the pile of papers is calling me. Peace.
Edit:
- I may have taken to watching American Idol again. I am glad Chris and ol Baldy (I know he's not bald here, but he looks kind of funny) are gone now. Is it wrong to think he looks both like Boy George and "Powder"? And Chris. Like a broke Justin Timberlake. And he knows it. Oh well, we knew these two weren't going to win. How about Melinda? She can sing, but she also reminds me of someone's mom. Oooh, and I also think most of these folks could be the American Idol if they all got a bit of orthdontic work. Jordin. She's good, but dang, why "Livin On a Prayer"? Whhy!? I think that one should be left to kareoke and strip clubs (...or something not her). Am I the only one who thinks she also kind of looks like America Ferrera?
Who knows who is going to win. I don't think it will be Blake. He also reminds me of a broke JT, not in looks but in his wannabe dance moves, but with maybe some of that dude from "So You Think You Can Dance." Not that I ever watched that show. The beatboxing was pretty cool, but also kind of weird. Do you think Ruben or Carrie Underwood would stoop to such gimmicks? We'll see what happens next week.
Labels: Lists, music, random, School
¶ 5:49 PM 0 comments
Saturday, April 07, 2007
- Is it wrong that I was turned off by a craiglist ad for an apartment because the grammar and spelling was bad? For some reason, I can't give my money to someone who spells neighborhood with a "u".
- I spent $16 on Chinese food last night, for one person. I have a ton left over, but it's not very good. In fact, I woke up with the taste from last night still lingering in my mouth. Gross.
- Regardless of what critics are saying, Timbaland's new album is hot.
- I don't know how I feel about being friends with professors on Facebook. Is that kind of weird, even if I'm not an undergrad? I feel like all of a sudden they're going to find out I drink or that I like Purple Rain and stop liking me. I'm not sure why I would care, because Prince is the bomb.
- I can't figure out my stats homework, so I'm going to go print off some articles, get some Starbucks, and buy season 2 of Entourage. I just bought season 1 like Wednesday--it's eight episodes (wtf). It's a kind of fun show.
- Bleh, I don't feel like doing anything. And it's so cold here, inside and out. I really should get moving. Peace out.
- Oh, check out the new labeling feature. I think I'm becoming anal about it, as I have categories for nearly everything. All to make it easier for you, my three readers!
- I spent $16 on Chinese food last night, for one person. I have a ton left over, but it's not very good. In fact, I woke up with the taste from last night still lingering in my mouth. Gross.
- Regardless of what critics are saying, Timbaland's new album is hot.
- I don't know how I feel about being friends with professors on Facebook. Is that kind of weird, even if I'm not an undergrad? I feel like all of a sudden they're going to find out I drink or that I like Purple Rain and stop liking me. I'm not sure why I would care, because Prince is the bomb.
- I can't figure out my stats homework, so I'm going to go print off some articles, get some Starbucks, and buy season 2 of Entourage. I just bought season 1 like Wednesday--it's eight episodes (wtf). It's a kind of fun show.
- Bleh, I don't feel like doing anything. And it's so cold here, inside and out. I really should get moving. Peace out.
- Oh, check out the new labeling feature. I think I'm becoming anal about it, as I have categories for nearly everything. All to make it easier for you, my three readers!
Labels: Facebook, Lists, music, random, School, TV
¶ 3:02 PM 0 comments
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Um.
So it's like super hot here in the apartment. Ok, really, like 72. But I'm near sweating. So I throw on the air conditioning. Then I look at weather.com. It's supposed to be in the 40's tomorrow. And I'm like, wtf!? It's so hot, but it's going to be freezing tomorrow. I don't get it. If I get sick, well, there's always orange/tangerine juice.
I went to this thing yesterday that this professor was doing. I had met with him back in the spring. He didn't know who I was when I came into the room. That's cool. Then, he asks me if I read the paper. I told him, no, not today. He said, nooo, the paper I wrote. Like, we were there to discuss this paper he wrote and I'm talking about USA Today or something. I was kind of embarrassed. I didn't say anything the whole rest of the time. He doesn't know who I am anyway.
I ended up deleting the link to solitaire off the start menu. However, that didn't delete it off of my computer. I found it today. I played like four games and x'ed it out. Something needs to be done about that game. And it's not like it's even that cool. I don't get it!
I'm here procrastinating again. I should go work. Or make spaghetti. ¶ 5:23 PM 0 comments
I went to this thing yesterday that this professor was doing. I had met with him back in the spring. He didn't know who I was when I came into the room. That's cool. Then, he asks me if I read the paper. I told him, no, not today. He said, nooo, the paper I wrote. Like, we were there to discuss this paper he wrote and I'm talking about USA Today or something. I was kind of embarrassed. I didn't say anything the whole rest of the time. He doesn't know who I am anyway.
I ended up deleting the link to solitaire off the start menu. However, that didn't delete it off of my computer. I found it today. I played like four games and x'ed it out. Something needs to be done about that game. And it's not like it's even that cool. I don't get it!
I'm here procrastinating again. I should go work. Or make spaghetti. ¶ 5:23 PM 0 comments
Monday, October 30, 2006
Rando-m.
1. If people continue to not cite their sources, I will turn all of them in to whatever kind of honor folks there are on campus. And not because I'm an asshole, but because I'm so sick of writing, "Cite!" and then a paragraph at the end about why it's all so necessary. Where did these kids go to school!?
2. I made a pan of brownies last night. I have eaten like 2/3 of them. But, I looked at the nutritional facts and they're not nearly as bad as I thought. But still, that's kind of a shitload. I do not need sweets up in the house.
3. Texting. Some lady I was talking to the other day was telling me entirely too much information regarding her life. In this conversation, she told me all these things she was telling, and I'll quote, her "baby daddy". She was saying all kinds of things. Through text messages. You don't tell somebody you care about them deeply and shit through a text message. What about your thumbs!? I would be more concerned with carpal tunnel or something, and come on, call the damn fool up! That takes like three button pushes as opposed to the 57 million she must have had because she was using long as hell sentences that must've taken forever to thumb type. On her phone.
4. Don't ever buy thigh meat instead of breast meat. It's got all kinds of fat on it, and the George Foreman doesn't cook it very well. And it sometimes doesn't taste good. But that also could've been the ranch dressing I put on it. I ran out of barbeque sauce, and thought it might taste good. I think in theory it did, but not so much in my mouth.
5. I am still so frustrated with these students. Like I want to shake them and tell them to get over themselves. They cannot write! I can only hope that in the speed and frustration that I used to write this whole thing doesn't end up making me look like a fool because I don't feel like spell-checking! Because I am not going to let that happen, I ran a spell-check. See, and all this is is a freaking blog post, not a paper. For a grade! Gah!
¶ 12:04 AM 0 comments
2. I made a pan of brownies last night. I have eaten like 2/3 of them. But, I looked at the nutritional facts and they're not nearly as bad as I thought. But still, that's kind of a shitload. I do not need sweets up in the house.
3. Texting. Some lady I was talking to the other day was telling me entirely too much information regarding her life. In this conversation, she told me all these things she was telling, and I'll quote, her "baby daddy". She was saying all kinds of things. Through text messages. You don't tell somebody you care about them deeply and shit through a text message. What about your thumbs!? I would be more concerned with carpal tunnel or something, and come on, call the damn fool up! That takes like three button pushes as opposed to the 57 million she must have had because she was using long as hell sentences that must've taken forever to thumb type. On her phone.
4. Don't ever buy thigh meat instead of breast meat. It's got all kinds of fat on it, and the George Foreman doesn't cook it very well. And it sometimes doesn't taste good. But that also could've been the ranch dressing I put on it. I ran out of barbeque sauce, and thought it might taste good. I think in theory it did, but not so much in my mouth.
5. I am still so frustrated with these students. Like I want to shake them and tell them to get over themselves. They cannot write! I can only hope that in the speed and frustration that I used to write this whole thing doesn't end up making me look like a fool because I don't feel like spell-checking! Because I am not going to let that happen, I ran a spell-check. See, and all this is is a freaking blog post, not a paper. For a grade! Gah!
¶ 12:04 AM 0 comments
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Girls Dem Suga
I am going to go ahead and admit it. I bought Danity Kane’s album. And I enjoy it, and I don’t really feel bad about it. Ok, I did feel bad about buying it. The lady at Target told me I was the fifth person to buy it since she had been there. I smiled, avoided eye contact, and tried to make up something about how it was a gift. I don’t know if it’s because the show was kind of compelling, or because the production on this album is pretty hott (Puff should’ve done better for Da Band, as their album sucked...or could it be that half of Brooklyn was a member of the group? Gah, there's like 27 people in there). Either way, the lyrics are stupid, but they can sing and Timbaland produced some tracks. Download it if you’re ashamed to go out and buy it.
In other music news, the new Justin Timberlake album is nice. I’ve been a fan of his since his first one (ok, and perhaps since NSync…their stuff is mad infectious, something I am weak to), so I was looking forward to this one. Despite his admissions of drug use and what not, it’s like Michael Jackson: whatever you do in your spare time does not make me listen to you differently. Timbaland does nearly all the production, save one track from Will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas. I like Tim, but an entire album of his productions tend to sound the same (read monotonous), so the Will track is kind of a relief. I can only hear “Cry Me a River” so many times (I swear like three songs kinda sound like it on the new one). And I do miss the Neptunes this time around. Now this sounds like I don’t like the album, but I really do. For whatever reason, I don’t know if Justin will get my $10 his first week out. I cannot explain why I drove to like four different stores looking for DK’s album. Crack is wack. Anyway, check this one, too.
Simply as a cultural observation, is anybody else aware it’s Fashion Week in New York? I find it kind of interesting that what we’ll see at the mall (well, probably not, because I don’t normally have the Gucci store near anything with “old” or “navy” in the title) we're seeing like six months before. Now that I think about it, it does kind make sense. Anyway, it’s like a big deal, this fashion week thing. All kinds of folks are into it, and by all kinds I mean like Puff. It would be so cool to have his job. Anyway, it’s funny to read what folks say about the clothes and other people. I think I am feeding into all the celebrity-wannabe-itis that is plaguing America. Hey, I don’t read US Weekly, so I can’t be that bad.
I think I may be getting used to living here. It finally stopped raining, and it’s starting to cool off. I’ll be glad when it’s gets cooler though. Hot weather is cool (let me use this word for the 3,764 time) during like June or July, and then I kinda don’t like it much. So bring on the coolness.
Ah, I do not condone stealing, but I download mad music (if you read this, you know this). One more album I recently downloaded was the new John Mayer. It is really good. He doesn’t get the full kind of review as the other folks, but it’s equally worth checking out.
I don’t really know what else to say. So be safe, take care of each other. And eventually pay for music at some point!
In writing this, I had to add Timbaland, hott, and wack to Word’s dictionary. Apparently, Word is not as fly as Webster’s. ¶ 10:29 PM 0 comments
In other music news, the new Justin Timberlake album is nice. I’ve been a fan of his since his first one (ok, and perhaps since NSync…their stuff is mad infectious, something I am weak to), so I was looking forward to this one. Despite his admissions of drug use and what not, it’s like Michael Jackson: whatever you do in your spare time does not make me listen to you differently. Timbaland does nearly all the production, save one track from Will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas. I like Tim, but an entire album of his productions tend to sound the same (read monotonous), so the Will track is kind of a relief. I can only hear “Cry Me a River” so many times (I swear like three songs kinda sound like it on the new one). And I do miss the Neptunes this time around. Now this sounds like I don’t like the album, but I really do. For whatever reason, I don’t know if Justin will get my $10 his first week out. I cannot explain why I drove to like four different stores looking for DK’s album. Crack is wack. Anyway, check this one, too.
Simply as a cultural observation, is anybody else aware it’s Fashion Week in New York? I find it kind of interesting that what we’ll see at the mall (well, probably not, because I don’t normally have the Gucci store near anything with “old” or “navy” in the title) we're seeing like six months before. Now that I think about it, it does kind make sense. Anyway, it’s like a big deal, this fashion week thing. All kinds of folks are into it, and by all kinds I mean like Puff. It would be so cool to have his job. Anyway, it’s funny to read what folks say about the clothes and other people. I think I am feeding into all the celebrity-wannabe-itis that is plaguing America. Hey, I don’t read US Weekly, so I can’t be that bad.
I think I may be getting used to living here. It finally stopped raining, and it’s starting to cool off. I’ll be glad when it’s gets cooler though. Hot weather is cool (let me use this word for the 3,764 time) during like June or July, and then I kinda don’t like it much. So bring on the coolness.
Ah, I do not condone stealing, but I download mad music (if you read this, you know this). One more album I recently downloaded was the new John Mayer. It is really good. He doesn’t get the full kind of review as the other folks, but it’s equally worth checking out.
I don’t really know what else to say. So be safe, take care of each other. And eventually pay for music at some point!
In writing this, I had to add Timbaland, hott, and wack to Word’s dictionary. Apparently, Word is not as fly as Webster’s. ¶ 10:29 PM 0 comments
Thursday, August 31, 2006
I don't argue like this with anyone but you
The traffic here never stops. For anything. Ever. I just want to get home! I don’t live that far, but it takes like an hour for me to get home everyday. Folks need to be nice, let people over, don’t go so fast that other people have to sit there. And damn man, a little rain never hurt anyone, so don’t let it slow you down to like ten miles per hour—it’s not going to burn holes through your windows!
I think flirty waitresses/bartenders are gonna be the death of me. I swear, if you’re nice to me and kinda cute, I will end up spending too much money. I’m a glutton for attention. Or my bills are just telling me I’m a glutton!
My apartment is kind of the bomb. The dude below me likes to blast his “Brown Eyed Girl” with the bass all kinds of turned up, but it’s only on the weekends during the day, but other than that, it’s a great place.
I got mad lost today. I thought I’d take a short short-cut to get to the highway more quickly. Well, I got on the highway going the wrong direction, which was you know, wrong. I ended up going back downtown and got kinda twisted around down there. Homeless people are not shameless here. They will straight up walk around with their beer. But they tend to carry it in plastic bags. I swear this man was going to lose his twelve pack if he didn’t watch it!
Completely random post, I know.
Labels: School
¶ 10:30 PM 0 comments
Monday, August 14, 2006
Ring the alarm!
Since moving, it has rained everyday. There was some sun today and then a random shower this afternoon. The rain does keep the heat away, but rain also kinda sucks.
Don’t tell anyone, but I may be listening to Danity Kane’s new album and I might be liking some of the songs. I have a fork ready for you to take to my ears.
Everyone here has a serious case of road rage. Folks are laying on the horn for hours because somebody else didn’t slam the gas the second the light turned green. Everyone drives hyper-fast and gets angry when you, too, are not going eighty-seven miles per hour. I do not feel safe sometimes driving. The other day, I was wanting to make a left turn. The light that was in control of the lanes I was wanting to cross was taking forever and there were mad cars waiting for the light to change. So I go to cross in front of this one dude, who let like thirty-five cars cross in front of him. I cross and he gives me the look of evil death. I thought he was going to stab me. Folks be crazy!
The time zone difference is also kind of throwing a wrench in my regular schedule. Everything’s an hour behind. You don’t realize how different it is until you want to watch Wheel of Fortune at seven and instead Wife Swap is on. Speaking of which, that show kind of frustrates me. I don’t get how militaristic some of those wives really are. Insane!
Oh, by the way, I see you reading my blog. If you’re not allowed to be my friend, you shouldn’t be allowed to keep up with my blog either. Just a thought. ¶ 9:19 PM 0 comments
Don’t tell anyone, but I may be listening to Danity Kane’s new album and I might be liking some of the songs. I have a fork ready for you to take to my ears.
Everyone here has a serious case of road rage. Folks are laying on the horn for hours because somebody else didn’t slam the gas the second the light turned green. Everyone drives hyper-fast and gets angry when you, too, are not going eighty-seven miles per hour. I do not feel safe sometimes driving. The other day, I was wanting to make a left turn. The light that was in control of the lanes I was wanting to cross was taking forever and there were mad cars waiting for the light to change. So I go to cross in front of this one dude, who let like thirty-five cars cross in front of him. I cross and he gives me the look of evil death. I thought he was going to stab me. Folks be crazy!
The time zone difference is also kind of throwing a wrench in my regular schedule. Everything’s an hour behind. You don’t realize how different it is until you want to watch Wheel of Fortune at seven and instead Wife Swap is on. Speaking of which, that show kind of frustrates me. I don’t get how militaristic some of those wives really are. Insane!
Oh, by the way, I see you reading my blog. If you’re not allowed to be my friend, you shouldn’t be allowed to keep up with my blog either. Just a thought. ¶ 9:19 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
My thetan is all over the place
I am making a big move at the end of the summer, so I am currently looking at anything rentable. Houses, apartments, condos, crawlspaces under houses—whatever you want to rent, I will at least take a look. What I have found, however, is that the places that I would most want to live at are also the most expensive. This is different from the places that I would want to live and can afford. The more expensive places do tend to be the nicest ones. Yes, I would like a view of the river. Heck, a view of the downtown glass buildings and smog would be cool, too. But I can’t afford these places.
Why not make awesome places that poor people can afford? Everybody needs lots of sunlight, not just the folks who can afford $2000 a month! This is so random and I can’t think of much more to say, so I’m going to stop. Or in the event of this taking two days to write, continue.
I swear that it doesn’t matter what time of day it is, I always end up trying to go to the bathroom when the cleaning ladies are there. They are never consistent with what times they come in. And I’m like, I have tried to go at all kinds of different times of the morning and you’re still all up in there. I don’t get it. I think they like preventing me from doing my thing. Probably not. But I do always feel goofy when I stick my head out the door to see if they’re there, only to spin back around into my room. Irritating. So now it’s been like twenty minutes and they’re still in there. All I want to do is brush my teeth! I did eventually make it to the bathroom this morning. Only to find that one of the toilet paper dispensers was shoved so tightly with a new roll that you couldn’t even get any out! I like to have lots of toiler paper, but if I can’t get any out, doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose?
It’s taken me like two days to write this stupid thing, but there’s so much going on that I keep getting distracted. Like tonight, I went to this gathering that one of my professors put on. Two of the folks from my class were asking me questions, and now that I think about it, I don’t know if I answered any of them. And if I did, I don’t think I answered them very clearly. It was kind of bad. I sent an email apologizing for my bullshit. This girl and I have never talked, but I for real feel bad about not answering her. There was just too many people and I was way out of my comfort zone. Like talk about wine and cheese man. I drink beer and eat potato chips. Ok, never actually together, but perhaps you get what I mean. All the folks from my class came dressed rather casually, and some of the other fools were wearing straight up suits! I thought putting on the collared shirt would’ve been a good idea. At least I didn’t look stank from the gym like this one chick. Oh well, we didn’t know! I’m pretty sure we all thought it was for only our class, but it appeared that every class this dude teaches and every organization he’s involved in were also invited. No big deal, but damn it, if there’s gonna be a dresscode, let some fools know!
So I am pretty sure that the root of my distraction was this cute girl I’ve been noticing all semester. I was trying to be witty and fun, but I really do think it’s too little too late. She is kind of hot, too. And I was looking fresh, so I knew I was kind of on tonight. But everything else suffered. What can a cracker do?
I can tell you what I won’t be doing. Kelly Clarkson keeps coming on in my itunes during the shuffle, and I keep changing songs. Leave me alone woman!
Oh, and to all the folks who keep coming to read this, I thank you. I see you out there! Also, the Scientology reference is simply that--a reference. Don't get it twisted, I love Jesus! ¶ 11:44 PM 1 comments
Why not make awesome places that poor people can afford? Everybody needs lots of sunlight, not just the folks who can afford $2000 a month! This is so random and I can’t think of much more to say, so I’m going to stop. Or in the event of this taking two days to write, continue.
I swear that it doesn’t matter what time of day it is, I always end up trying to go to the bathroom when the cleaning ladies are there. They are never consistent with what times they come in. And I’m like, I have tried to go at all kinds of different times of the morning and you’re still all up in there. I don’t get it. I think they like preventing me from doing my thing. Probably not. But I do always feel goofy when I stick my head out the door to see if they’re there, only to spin back around into my room. Irritating. So now it’s been like twenty minutes and they’re still in there. All I want to do is brush my teeth! I did eventually make it to the bathroom this morning. Only to find that one of the toilet paper dispensers was shoved so tightly with a new roll that you couldn’t even get any out! I like to have lots of toiler paper, but if I can’t get any out, doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose?
It’s taken me like two days to write this stupid thing, but there’s so much going on that I keep getting distracted. Like tonight, I went to this gathering that one of my professors put on. Two of the folks from my class were asking me questions, and now that I think about it, I don’t know if I answered any of them. And if I did, I don’t think I answered them very clearly. It was kind of bad. I sent an email apologizing for my bullshit. This girl and I have never talked, but I for real feel bad about not answering her. There was just too many people and I was way out of my comfort zone. Like talk about wine and cheese man. I drink beer and eat potato chips. Ok, never actually together, but perhaps you get what I mean. All the folks from my class came dressed rather casually, and some of the other fools were wearing straight up suits! I thought putting on the collared shirt would’ve been a good idea. At least I didn’t look stank from the gym like this one chick. Oh well, we didn’t know! I’m pretty sure we all thought it was for only our class, but it appeared that every class this dude teaches and every organization he’s involved in were also invited. No big deal, but damn it, if there’s gonna be a dresscode, let some fools know!
So I am pretty sure that the root of my distraction was this cute girl I’ve been noticing all semester. I was trying to be witty and fun, but I really do think it’s too little too late. She is kind of hot, too. And I was looking fresh, so I knew I was kind of on tonight. But everything else suffered. What can a cracker do?
I can tell you what I won’t be doing. Kelly Clarkson keeps coming on in my itunes during the shuffle, and I keep changing songs. Leave me alone woman!
Oh, and to all the folks who keep coming to read this, I thank you. I see you out there! Also, the Scientology reference is simply that--a reference. Don't get it twisted, I love Jesus! ¶ 11:44 PM 1 comments
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Two lies and a truth
I am not listening to George Michael's "Freedom" right now.
I am working diligently on one of my two papers due next week.
I am not procrastinating by writing this right now.
¶ 9:16 PM 0 comments
I am working diligently on one of my two papers due next week.
I am not procrastinating by writing this right now.
¶ 9:16 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Prego kills Ragu!
There is a bottle of 409 that has been staring at me for a few days and I haven’t done anything about it yet.
So I thought it would be a cool idea to go get some food, take-out style. Normally, this involves me walking up to the street where food is, ordering, getting the food, and putting it in my bookbag. I am not sure why I don’t like carrying stuff, but I don’t. I even take my bookbag over to the place where I print stuff because I don’t feel like carrying it. Like bags were made to carry crap, so I might as well use it, right?
I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I got this at this particular place, you know, it was pretty good. I was feeling in an Italian mood, but I didn’t want pizza, so I figured spaghetti was a good choice. So I get this crap and put it in my bookbag, like I always do. It always works with sandwiches and even Chinese food, so this should be no different. Spaghetti, it turns out, is the devil!
As I’m walking back, I notice how unusually warm my lower back is. Notice, this is the exact location of the spaghetti in my bookbag. I really didn’t think too much of it, other than it was really warm. I get back to my place, and take out the spaghetti. When I take it out, I notice the bag covering the what-I-thought-was-styrofoam-but-was-instead-an-aluminum-pan-with-a-paper-lid was shredded open in marinara sauce. Like this bag had no chance with this spaghetti. Apparently, I failed to, you know, notice that this shit was in fact not stryofoam, and had erupted inside of my bookbag. And the sauce was now dripping from my hand onto the floor. Normally, this would make me pretty upset. Oddly enough, I was cool.
I didn’t even cuss! I grabbed some paper plates and shoved them under the erupting bag of spaghetti, then grabbed the only thing I could find that would soak anything up: my washcloth. Armed with the washcloth and some 409, I started to scrub the carpet. I managed to get the stains out (I think). My bookbag, however, is another story.
This piece continues to randomly reek of spaghetti. I cleaned it out with the 409 and let it sit out and inside-out for like two days. But it still kind of smells. I don’t really understand it. I meant to go back and re-scrub it, but I haven’t got around to it. That would be why the 409 is still out. Maybe I should do something about that. ¶ 9:50 PM 0 comments
So I thought it would be a cool idea to go get some food, take-out style. Normally, this involves me walking up to the street where food is, ordering, getting the food, and putting it in my bookbag. I am not sure why I don’t like carrying stuff, but I don’t. I even take my bookbag over to the place where I print stuff because I don’t feel like carrying it. Like bags were made to carry crap, so I might as well use it, right?
I ordered spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I got this at this particular place, you know, it was pretty good. I was feeling in an Italian mood, but I didn’t want pizza, so I figured spaghetti was a good choice. So I get this crap and put it in my bookbag, like I always do. It always works with sandwiches and even Chinese food, so this should be no different. Spaghetti, it turns out, is the devil!
As I’m walking back, I notice how unusually warm my lower back is. Notice, this is the exact location of the spaghetti in my bookbag. I really didn’t think too much of it, other than it was really warm. I get back to my place, and take out the spaghetti. When I take it out, I notice the bag covering the what-I-thought-was-styrofoam-but-was-instead-an-aluminum-pan-with-a-paper-lid was shredded open in marinara sauce. Like this bag had no chance with this spaghetti. Apparently, I failed to, you know, notice that this shit was in fact not stryofoam, and had erupted inside of my bookbag. And the sauce was now dripping from my hand onto the floor. Normally, this would make me pretty upset. Oddly enough, I was cool.
I didn’t even cuss! I grabbed some paper plates and shoved them under the erupting bag of spaghetti, then grabbed the only thing I could find that would soak anything up: my washcloth. Armed with the washcloth and some 409, I started to scrub the carpet. I managed to get the stains out (I think). My bookbag, however, is another story.
This piece continues to randomly reek of spaghetti. I cleaned it out with the 409 and let it sit out and inside-out for like two days. But it still kind of smells. I don’t really understand it. I meant to go back and re-scrub it, but I haven’t got around to it. That would be why the 409 is still out. Maybe I should do something about that. ¶ 9:50 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
My so-called-cracked-out life
So, after several tens of ounces of wannabe “energy” drinks, I’m drained. Red bull ain’t nothing but some medicinal-tasting, not-cracked-out inducing funk of a drink. I’ve never had it without alcohol until today (I’m not an alchie, I swear!), and there’s got to be a reason why that mess is mixed with other stuff. It’s kind of stank.
I drank the damn thing, and then my eyes starting closing. I was like what the fuck!? I need wings, ho! I was a bit let down. So as I was struggling to stay awake, my friend was like, “Why don’t you try the Sobe one from the vending machine?” I said why not. Well, this thing was like sixteen ounces, two servings worth of energy it says (well, it didn’t really say that. It was a two serving can. Who makes those? Like, you open a can and drink the whole thing, you don’t open it and put the other half of the drink in the fridge and call it a day. Drink the whole thing you freak! So, that’s what I did). Well, this seemed to work a bit better I suppose. But neither were the kick I was expecting. I believe I will be staying away from “energy” drinks. I think they’re a bit overpriced for the crap taste they give you. Although, the Sobe one had a fruit punch flavor going on. It was kinda good.
I really was expecting something packing some punch. Oh well.
I like my beats hard like two-day old shits. Man, A Tribe Called Quest should be called A Tribe Called a Trip. They’re funny.
So, while I’m here, let me wax on some shit. I paid $88 for a damn book that fools want to give me $10 back for. You ain’t messing with no rookie! I said, give me that shit back and wrote an email to the chair and co-chair of the department. Ok, so probably nothing will happen because of it, but cot damn it, don’t mess with me and my money! They probably won’t even write me back, but I don’t much care because I let them know how I feel that they’re exploiting poor folks. Not to say I’m a bag man, but damn, I almost lost $80. That’s some for-real-ass money. I need that shit! Maybe somewhere else will give me some more money, otherwise I think I’m going to turn to eBay! ¶ 10:11 PM 0 comments
I drank the damn thing, and then my eyes starting closing. I was like what the fuck!? I need wings, ho! I was a bit let down. So as I was struggling to stay awake, my friend was like, “Why don’t you try the Sobe one from the vending machine?” I said why not. Well, this thing was like sixteen ounces, two servings worth of energy it says (well, it didn’t really say that. It was a two serving can. Who makes those? Like, you open a can and drink the whole thing, you don’t open it and put the other half of the drink in the fridge and call it a day. Drink the whole thing you freak! So, that’s what I did). Well, this seemed to work a bit better I suppose. But neither were the kick I was expecting. I believe I will be staying away from “energy” drinks. I think they’re a bit overpriced for the crap taste they give you. Although, the Sobe one had a fruit punch flavor going on. It was kinda good.
I really was expecting something packing some punch. Oh well.
I like my beats hard like two-day old shits. Man, A Tribe Called Quest should be called A Tribe Called a Trip. They’re funny.
So, while I’m here, let me wax on some shit. I paid $88 for a damn book that fools want to give me $10 back for. You ain’t messing with no rookie! I said, give me that shit back and wrote an email to the chair and co-chair of the department. Ok, so probably nothing will happen because of it, but cot damn it, don’t mess with me and my money! They probably won’t even write me back, but I don’t much care because I let them know how I feel that they’re exploiting poor folks. Not to say I’m a bag man, but damn, I almost lost $80. That’s some for-real-ass money. I need that shit! Maybe somewhere else will give me some more money, otherwise I think I’m going to turn to eBay! ¶ 10:11 PM 0 comments
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Get along little doggies
All of a sudden, I am convinced that the person who makes fortune cookies has a hidden camera in my room.
So, I again thought it would be a good idea to eat at a place with a B health rating. Why do I find these things out after I have ordered and paid? I don’t get it! The food was the shit though. Anyway, so I’m done with the sesame chicken (was good, but probably too much chicken…my stomach will be rumblin later), and I go to eat the fortune cookie. Sometimes, these places insist that you pay for these things. I don’t exactly understand that because, well, they cost like three cents to make, if even that. So I’m eating my free fortune cookie and I read the fortune, “Examine the situation before you act impulsively”. What the fuck!? I think I insist on living my life without ever thinking about it and here’s this damn cookie telling me to slow down.
I like to sign up for the GRE after talking to one professor about it. I couldn’t even get a full refund after I cancelled it because I didn’t read the fine print that said you only get half back. I decided to apply to Princeton without looking at their program. Sent out recommendation forms to all my professors and shit, only to realize I wouldn’t go to Princeton if they paid me (ok, if they paid me, fuck yeah I’d go…but it’s just not for me!). I had to send out an email apologizing for the “accident,” when in reality, I had to spend like five minutes getting everybody’s name and contact info and mess in there. I just like to do things without thinking about them and this fortune is mad ironic.
I really need to go finish this paper. Pimps up, hos down. ¶ 6:47 PM 0 comments
So, I again thought it would be a good idea to eat at a place with a B health rating. Why do I find these things out after I have ordered and paid? I don’t get it! The food was the shit though. Anyway, so I’m done with the sesame chicken (was good, but probably too much chicken…my stomach will be rumblin later), and I go to eat the fortune cookie. Sometimes, these places insist that you pay for these things. I don’t exactly understand that because, well, they cost like three cents to make, if even that. So I’m eating my free fortune cookie and I read the fortune, “Examine the situation before you act impulsively”. What the fuck!? I think I insist on living my life without ever thinking about it and here’s this damn cookie telling me to slow down.
I like to sign up for the GRE after talking to one professor about it. I couldn’t even get a full refund after I cancelled it because I didn’t read the fine print that said you only get half back. I decided to apply to Princeton without looking at their program. Sent out recommendation forms to all my professors and shit, only to realize I wouldn’t go to Princeton if they paid me (ok, if they paid me, fuck yeah I’d go…but it’s just not for me!). I had to send out an email apologizing for the “accident,” when in reality, I had to spend like five minutes getting everybody’s name and contact info and mess in there. I just like to do things without thinking about them and this fortune is mad ironic.
I really need to go finish this paper. Pimps up, hos down. ¶ 6:47 PM 0 comments
Saturday, December 03, 2005
You're standing on my neck
So, I've been rather busy here lately and haven't had much time to write stuff. In an effort to continue to write here, I'm just going to include something I wrote the other day. Look for more soon!
Let me begin this post by first discussing the smelliest fool I’ve ever been around. I have found that stereotypes about people who smell bad are simply not true. So that being said, the smelliest white man ever decided to walk past me as I was waiting for my shit to print off. Good god, he stunk so bad. Like mix of body odor, funk, onions, Italian food, and general stankness all rolled up into one human body. I felt bad for the dude sitting next to him. I though that if he sat next to me that I would risk looking like an asshole and move so I’d be able to breathe. Ugh, that fool stunk!
What I love about getting together with old friends is the normal drama (a.k.a. post-get together shit talking) that ensues. However, this past weekend, there was all kinds of drama going down and none of it involved folks being mean or stirring up pots of hypocrisy and bullshit. Which actually went was good, even as much as I love to talk shit! So, in an effort to save money but still have fun, my friends and I decided that we should drink before we go out for one of my friend’s birthday. Good idea in theory, bad idea in action. We kind of didn’t have a few drinks before we went out, we got drunk. Nearly sloppy drunk. Said birthday friend fell over walking into the bar and was immediately kicked out. “Come back in thirty minutes after you get some food.” Who says that!? I don’t think thirty minutes was going to improve the debauchery that was already going down. Shit was still the bomb, even though another friend and I got left at the bar, for at least an hour, while everyone else was taken home. Either somebody forgot about us or figured we were alright. Something, I’m not really sure what happened (and that can be said for a lot that night), but I ended up at home apparently safe and sound. This birthday ranks up there with my birthday, and you know that was the party of the year (for those who do not attend parties thrown by Puff). So all is good in the world.
I would include more details, but I want to spare everyone (and myself) the embarrassment. Plus, most folks who read this know what went down anyway, so no need to rehash it all!
I have realized that I think I subconsciously enjoy having lots of paper around me. And by this, I don’t mean money. I mean like notebook paper, post-it paper, receipts, old forms I filled out but never turned it—all kinds of damn paper. What is this about? I can’t seem to shake the damn paper trail I leave. There’s paper in the bottom of my bookbag, the bottoms of my pockets. It’s everywhere! Also, this going along kind of (in a sick, sad world…Daria, haha) way, I have lots of nickels that also follow me around. I am sure I have dollars and dollars of nickels. Why not cool change like quarters or dimes? Or even fifty-cent pieces? Just nickels. I suppose this is better than being harassed by pennies, cause who really uses those?
Also, today I thought it would be a smart idea to run down the stairs to meet the pizza guy. Turns out, my moccasins don't have much traction and I slid on the cement and landed on the left side of my body. It hurt like hell, but I couldn't help but laugh, which I did while I grimaced in pain! And then later, I was walking down the stairs and my left knee now hurts! Anyone seen "The Jacksons: American Dream"? Well, Mom Jackson had this funky-like wobble or stagger or that word, um, limp! I feel like that's what I look like. Hopefully it'll be all good tomorrow. ¶ 6:49 PM 0 comments
Let me begin this post by first discussing the smelliest fool I’ve ever been around. I have found that stereotypes about people who smell bad are simply not true. So that being said, the smelliest white man ever decided to walk past me as I was waiting for my shit to print off. Good god, he stunk so bad. Like mix of body odor, funk, onions, Italian food, and general stankness all rolled up into one human body. I felt bad for the dude sitting next to him. I though that if he sat next to me that I would risk looking like an asshole and move so I’d be able to breathe. Ugh, that fool stunk!
What I love about getting together with old friends is the normal drama (a.k.a. post-get together shit talking) that ensues. However, this past weekend, there was all kinds of drama going down and none of it involved folks being mean or stirring up pots of hypocrisy and bullshit. Which actually went was good, even as much as I love to talk shit! So, in an effort to save money but still have fun, my friends and I decided that we should drink before we go out for one of my friend’s birthday. Good idea in theory, bad idea in action. We kind of didn’t have a few drinks before we went out, we got drunk. Nearly sloppy drunk. Said birthday friend fell over walking into the bar and was immediately kicked out. “Come back in thirty minutes after you get some food.” Who says that!? I don’t think thirty minutes was going to improve the debauchery that was already going down. Shit was still the bomb, even though another friend and I got left at the bar, for at least an hour, while everyone else was taken home. Either somebody forgot about us or figured we were alright. Something, I’m not really sure what happened (and that can be said for a lot that night), but I ended up at home apparently safe and sound. This birthday ranks up there with my birthday, and you know that was the party of the year (for those who do not attend parties thrown by Puff). So all is good in the world.
I would include more details, but I want to spare everyone (and myself) the embarrassment. Plus, most folks who read this know what went down anyway, so no need to rehash it all!
I have realized that I think I subconsciously enjoy having lots of paper around me. And by this, I don’t mean money. I mean like notebook paper, post-it paper, receipts, old forms I filled out but never turned it—all kinds of damn paper. What is this about? I can’t seem to shake the damn paper trail I leave. There’s paper in the bottom of my bookbag, the bottoms of my pockets. It’s everywhere! Also, this going along kind of (in a sick, sad world…Daria, haha) way, I have lots of nickels that also follow me around. I am sure I have dollars and dollars of nickels. Why not cool change like quarters or dimes? Or even fifty-cent pieces? Just nickels. I suppose this is better than being harassed by pennies, cause who really uses those?
Also, today I thought it would be a smart idea to run down the stairs to meet the pizza guy. Turns out, my moccasins don't have much traction and I slid on the cement and landed on the left side of my body. It hurt like hell, but I couldn't help but laugh, which I did while I grimaced in pain! And then later, I was walking down the stairs and my left knee now hurts! Anyone seen "The Jacksons: American Dream"? Well, Mom Jackson had this funky-like wobble or stagger or that word, um, limp! I feel like that's what I look like. Hopefully it'll be all good tomorrow. ¶ 6:49 PM 0 comments
Friday, October 28, 2005
Winter clothes and open toes
We all love when it turns cold. At least I do. Some days it’s just too hot and I don’t like my clothes all sticking to me and the sweat that drips from my forehead, causing temporary blindness. So the chill is a welcomed change. I have about seven thousand pairs of jeans and I brought nearly all of them to school so I’ve been wanting to wear them. The first cool day it was about 73 or so, so I thought I’d look fly (read fratty) and I wear my flip-flops with them. The thing is that it was all still weather-appropriate because the temperature was still in the 70s.
So now, the cold weather has been here for a second. It’s cold, like 50-degrees cold. It’s no artic-ass chill, but worthy of a sweatshirt or something. I’ve continued to wear my jeans, as have other folks. But the thing is, is that other people have continued to wear flip-flops. I’ve seen girls with straight-up scarves on with flip-flops. Is it cold or is it hot? You look confused! And it’s not just girls, it’s dudes, too. Fool, why are the bottom five inches of your thigh showing when it’s 46 degrees outside? That mess is not cool even in warm weather, but especially not now. My parents always made sure my sister and I wore weather-appropriate clothes. If it was cold outside, we could not play unless we had on a jacket and for real shoes. So maybe everyone else’s parents missed the message of normal-ass health, or maybe this is like a weak-ass version of some kind of rebellion.
It’s like folks are doing what they always wanted to do: to wear flip-flops and shorts when it’s cold outside. Yes, I am guilty of wearing shorts when it’s cold. But I’m in PE, so that mess does not count the same. And my PE is inside in a heated gym, so shorts are necessary. But for all you other fools, what goes on in your head? “Oh, weather.com says it’s gonna be 58 degrees today, that means I need mittens and sandals.” Does that make sense to anyone else out there?
Anyway, I heard this girl singing the “My Humps” song today. And she was into it. Really into it. Shit is catchy, but come on, “my lovely lady lumps”?
So Jay-Z and Nas have squashed their beef. That’s cool, but shouldn’t it have come like three years ago when it was relevant? Jay doesn’t make records anymore and Nas doesn’t sell records anymore, so other than to give people something mildly interesting to talk about, what was the point? They’re not recording music together, they’re not doing a movie or clothing line. They just did one song at Jay’s random concert Thursday night. Ok, kind of big deal in hip-hop history. But does it really matter in the here-and-now?
Speaking of hip-hop, I will no longer be Young Jeezy for Halloween. Instead, I’m kind of adopting a LL Cool J/Run DMC style, with the track suit and the obnoxious dookie chains (I got as close to these as I could find, and shit ended up being the most expensive part of the costume…for fake-ass gold). I wish I could hunt down a Kangol or something, but no used clothing place around here sells shit like that. I found a hat that looked kind of similar, but it was too expensive for one night and it kind of reminded me of a hat a bag lady would wear. And I don’t have enough money to get the hat and I make too much money to be a bag person. Speaking of used clothing stores and bag people, the jacket I bought kind of stinks. I want to wash it, but I don’t know if I should. I think my insane fear of getting lice is prompting me to clean it. I tried on some hats at this used clothes place and I already started to itch. Mess is so psychological. I just hope I don’t need to take back the jacket to get money to buy some Nix. ¶ 6:32 PM 0 comments
So now, the cold weather has been here for a second. It’s cold, like 50-degrees cold. It’s no artic-ass chill, but worthy of a sweatshirt or something. I’ve continued to wear my jeans, as have other folks. But the thing is, is that other people have continued to wear flip-flops. I’ve seen girls with straight-up scarves on with flip-flops. Is it cold or is it hot? You look confused! And it’s not just girls, it’s dudes, too. Fool, why are the bottom five inches of your thigh showing when it’s 46 degrees outside? That mess is not cool even in warm weather, but especially not now. My parents always made sure my sister and I wore weather-appropriate clothes. If it was cold outside, we could not play unless we had on a jacket and for real shoes. So maybe everyone else’s parents missed the message of normal-ass health, or maybe this is like a weak-ass version of some kind of rebellion.
It’s like folks are doing what they always wanted to do: to wear flip-flops and shorts when it’s cold outside. Yes, I am guilty of wearing shorts when it’s cold. But I’m in PE, so that mess does not count the same. And my PE is inside in a heated gym, so shorts are necessary. But for all you other fools, what goes on in your head? “Oh, weather.com says it’s gonna be 58 degrees today, that means I need mittens and sandals.” Does that make sense to anyone else out there?
Anyway, I heard this girl singing the “My Humps” song today. And she was into it. Really into it. Shit is catchy, but come on, “my lovely lady lumps”?
So Jay-Z and Nas have squashed their beef. That’s cool, but shouldn’t it have come like three years ago when it was relevant? Jay doesn’t make records anymore and Nas doesn’t sell records anymore, so other than to give people something mildly interesting to talk about, what was the point? They’re not recording music together, they’re not doing a movie or clothing line. They just did one song at Jay’s random concert Thursday night. Ok, kind of big deal in hip-hop history. But does it really matter in the here-and-now?
Speaking of hip-hop, I will no longer be Young Jeezy for Halloween. Instead, I’m kind of adopting a LL Cool J/Run DMC style, with the track suit and the obnoxious dookie chains (I got as close to these as I could find, and shit ended up being the most expensive part of the costume…for fake-ass gold). I wish I could hunt down a Kangol or something, but no used clothing place around here sells shit like that. I found a hat that looked kind of similar, but it was too expensive for one night and it kind of reminded me of a hat a bag lady would wear. And I don’t have enough money to get the hat and I make too much money to be a bag person. Speaking of used clothing stores and bag people, the jacket I bought kind of stinks. I want to wash it, but I don’t know if I should. I think my insane fear of getting lice is prompting me to clean it. I tried on some hats at this used clothes place and I already started to itch. Mess is so psychological. I just hope I don’t need to take back the jacket to get money to buy some Nix. ¶ 6:32 PM 0 comments
Thursday, October 06, 2005
The light at the bottom of the pool
I am not afraid of water. I like pools, beaches and showers. Sometimes, I even put my head under (only with the necessary equipment, however, like nose clips). I do not put my face in if I don’t have to or don’t want to. I like to keep my shit in the three-foot section. I like to bob around. No diving, being all up in the deep end. I prefer my swimming low key. In fact, you may not even call it swimming. I guess you could say I wade in the water. That is where I stand when it comes to me and pools. I like to feel the bottom of the pool under my feet. I like the wall within grasping distance. So when it came time for me to take the swim test, I had some trepidation. But I was confident I would pass.
So they corral us like beef, picking random people to go. I was in a group of three. With the other two folks in one lane, it left me alone in lane two. That was cool. I didn’t really want to attempt any fake-ass conversation with folks I had never talked to before. Prior to the starting line, I had mad urination to attend to. Twice. Also, after time number two, I was going back to the pit of hell water and was accosted by a naked old man. Ok, not necessarily accosted, but as soon as he turned around, it was all hanging there. Grandpa, I don’t want to see that any more than Pearl does. Go into a shower stall or something! Anyway, I go back out to the pool.
I’m standing there, watching these fools. They make it look so easy. It’s only five minutes, I can do this! Next thing I know, it’s time for me to do this. I’m standing on the edge of the pool. I’m talking to the guy next to me. I don’t really remember much of the conversation other than that he offered to also hold his nose when he jumped in. That was nice of him. After this jumping in, I kind of lose awareness of everything else going on around me. It all started out so well.
I jump in, hand firmly holding both nostrils tight. It was kind of hard to get a good hold on my nose because I’ve been using mad lotion and shit to not have my face be so dry, but it worked. I make it back up to the surface, avoiding touching the bottom because that would result in failure. I wasn’t about to fail this bullshit. I may not swim like, you know, a swimmer, but I can hang in the water for five minutes. I’m doing my version of the freestyle stroke. I make it to one end. By the way, this pool is originally an Olympic size pool, but they made it half. So I make it half way, touch the wall. Everything’s going good. I make it back to the other end. I ask the two folks next to me if we’re supposed to touch the wall when we come back. They said yes, so I gave that wall a nice rub. Three minutes the guy said. Three minutes and this bad boy would be over. I knew it would be easy.
So, for the next three minutes, I decide to tread water. Probably the worse mistake of my life. Every muscle in my body was struggling to keep my head above water. Man, how was that girl talking to other people and doing flips and shit? I’m floating, or something, here about to pass out. Two minutes. I wanted to count the seconds down, but all I could think about was how my lungs were collapsing and I would be the first person to die taking the swim test. I know, I know. They have lifeguards, I wouldn’t have died. But there were so many people standing around, watching me flounder all up in the water. I think I would’ve been better off dead than as the guy who survived looking a damn fool during the swim test. Down to a minute. I know it doesn’t seem like that long, but this shit was straight eternity. All I could think about was that I must survive this. There has got to be some way I can make it. I was also thinking how fucking absurd it is that this is required for graduation and that my ass came to learn and not to die in a fucking pool for a test that no other school requires. If bitches drown, it’s their fault! You forcing me to take this test does not equate me having knowledge of proper swim technique or survival skills. I can’t float on my back, so I would’ve been a goner, but it would’ve been my own fault! This is why I hang out in sections of water where I can touch the bottom. It’s not cheating motherfuckers; it’s keeping it very real!
Down to thirty seconds. Everything is tensed up at this point. Still can’t breathe and I keep getting water in my mouth, because inch by inch my head is being overtaken by the chlorinated hell. Strange breathing noises come out of me. I didn’t know I was capable of such weird noises. I was thinking this is what it sounds like when swimmers die (sing to “When doves cry” and it’s funny). I start making my way over to the wall. If they need to pull me out, at least this way there won’t be that far for them to drag my drowned ass. Ten seconds. One of the official folks on the side tells me to make bigger motions with my arms. That’s cool. I do it. Then I go under. Nose full of chlorine. Normally that shit burns like hell, but my body made no reaction because it was so tensed up in response to my impending death that it had more important shit to be doing. I grab the wall. No clue how many seconds left. I know I failed. It was over. I still can’t breathe. Get out of the pool they yell to us. Fool, don’t you see I’m on the verge of death!? Give me a fucking second. I thought this one guy was coming over to see, you know, if I was alive. Nope, he was just lining up for his execution, er, turn at the swim test. I hold on the wall nearly all the way to the ladder. Nope, still can’t breathe. Must get out of pool. Make sure you avoid all eye contact with potential people who might say something. I have no clue what my face was saying but it was probably, “Good lord…” I made it to the wall where my stuff was. Fuck drying off, I’m trying to breathe man! The breathes are coming short and quick. Not enough to do anything. The girl who saw me grab the wall goes and talks to my teacher. Yep, I failed. I will have to put my body through this torture again. And for what!? He starts filling out the you-pass-cards. Nope, I won’t be getting one. Then he walks over. I’m looking at him, expecting him to be like, “We’re offering this again in November. You can come back then.” He hands me a card. Holy shit. I’m alive and I passed.
In all the agony I survived, I passed. I did not think it would be this hard. Now, my head was splitting like something insane. And I’m shaking. And I still can’t breathe. I go up to my room and sit. If I hadn’t died in the pool, death was certainly imminent now. This was too much. After some consulting, I end up at the health center. What’s your symptoms? Uh, I have a headache and I’m shaky. She looks at me like, “Okay-kay-kay.” I go see the doctor. My heart was still kind of racing, but she says I’m ok. Runs a neurological test on me. I felt like one of those drunken folks on the side of the road. Had to walk in a straight line and touch my finger to my nose. It was kind of funny. The med student was cute, too. Tell your friends to get with my friends and we could be friends. So that’s how the story goes. I don’t see me going to a pool for a while now. Unless it involves three feet of water and my feet on the bottom.
So they corral us like beef, picking random people to go. I was in a group of three. With the other two folks in one lane, it left me alone in lane two. That was cool. I didn’t really want to attempt any fake-ass conversation with folks I had never talked to before. Prior to the starting line, I had mad urination to attend to. Twice. Also, after time number two, I was going back to the pit of hell water and was accosted by a naked old man. Ok, not necessarily accosted, but as soon as he turned around, it was all hanging there. Grandpa, I don’t want to see that any more than Pearl does. Go into a shower stall or something! Anyway, I go back out to the pool.
I’m standing there, watching these fools. They make it look so easy. It’s only five minutes, I can do this! Next thing I know, it’s time for me to do this. I’m standing on the edge of the pool. I’m talking to the guy next to me. I don’t really remember much of the conversation other than that he offered to also hold his nose when he jumped in. That was nice of him. After this jumping in, I kind of lose awareness of everything else going on around me. It all started out so well.
I jump in, hand firmly holding both nostrils tight. It was kind of hard to get a good hold on my nose because I’ve been using mad lotion and shit to not have my face be so dry, but it worked. I make it back up to the surface, avoiding touching the bottom because that would result in failure. I wasn’t about to fail this bullshit. I may not swim like, you know, a swimmer, but I can hang in the water for five minutes. I’m doing my version of the freestyle stroke. I make it to one end. By the way, this pool is originally an Olympic size pool, but they made it half. So I make it half way, touch the wall. Everything’s going good. I make it back to the other end. I ask the two folks next to me if we’re supposed to touch the wall when we come back. They said yes, so I gave that wall a nice rub. Three minutes the guy said. Three minutes and this bad boy would be over. I knew it would be easy.
So, for the next three minutes, I decide to tread water. Probably the worse mistake of my life. Every muscle in my body was struggling to keep my head above water. Man, how was that girl talking to other people and doing flips and shit? I’m floating, or something, here about to pass out. Two minutes. I wanted to count the seconds down, but all I could think about was how my lungs were collapsing and I would be the first person to die taking the swim test. I know, I know. They have lifeguards, I wouldn’t have died. But there were so many people standing around, watching me flounder all up in the water. I think I would’ve been better off dead than as the guy who survived looking a damn fool during the swim test. Down to a minute. I know it doesn’t seem like that long, but this shit was straight eternity. All I could think about was that I must survive this. There has got to be some way I can make it. I was also thinking how fucking absurd it is that this is required for graduation and that my ass came to learn and not to die in a fucking pool for a test that no other school requires. If bitches drown, it’s their fault! You forcing me to take this test does not equate me having knowledge of proper swim technique or survival skills. I can’t float on my back, so I would’ve been a goner, but it would’ve been my own fault! This is why I hang out in sections of water where I can touch the bottom. It’s not cheating motherfuckers; it’s keeping it very real!
Down to thirty seconds. Everything is tensed up at this point. Still can’t breathe and I keep getting water in my mouth, because inch by inch my head is being overtaken by the chlorinated hell. Strange breathing noises come out of me. I didn’t know I was capable of such weird noises. I was thinking this is what it sounds like when swimmers die (sing to “When doves cry” and it’s funny). I start making my way over to the wall. If they need to pull me out, at least this way there won’t be that far for them to drag my drowned ass. Ten seconds. One of the official folks on the side tells me to make bigger motions with my arms. That’s cool. I do it. Then I go under. Nose full of chlorine. Normally that shit burns like hell, but my body made no reaction because it was so tensed up in response to my impending death that it had more important shit to be doing. I grab the wall. No clue how many seconds left. I know I failed. It was over. I still can’t breathe. Get out of the pool they yell to us. Fool, don’t you see I’m on the verge of death!? Give me a fucking second. I thought this one guy was coming over to see, you know, if I was alive. Nope, he was just lining up for his execution, er, turn at the swim test. I hold on the wall nearly all the way to the ladder. Nope, still can’t breathe. Must get out of pool. Make sure you avoid all eye contact with potential people who might say something. I have no clue what my face was saying but it was probably, “Good lord…” I made it to the wall where my stuff was. Fuck drying off, I’m trying to breathe man! The breathes are coming short and quick. Not enough to do anything. The girl who saw me grab the wall goes and talks to my teacher. Yep, I failed. I will have to put my body through this torture again. And for what!? He starts filling out the you-pass-cards. Nope, I won’t be getting one. Then he walks over. I’m looking at him, expecting him to be like, “We’re offering this again in November. You can come back then.” He hands me a card. Holy shit. I’m alive and I passed.
In all the agony I survived, I passed. I did not think it would be this hard. Now, my head was splitting like something insane. And I’m shaking. And I still can’t breathe. I go up to my room and sit. If I hadn’t died in the pool, death was certainly imminent now. This was too much. After some consulting, I end up at the health center. What’s your symptoms? Uh, I have a headache and I’m shaky. She looks at me like, “Okay-kay-kay.” I go see the doctor. My heart was still kind of racing, but she says I’m ok. Runs a neurological test on me. I felt like one of those drunken folks on the side of the road. Had to walk in a straight line and touch my finger to my nose. It was kind of funny. The med student was cute, too. Tell your friends to get with my friends and we could be friends. So that’s how the story goes. I don’t see me going to a pool for a while now. Unless it involves three feet of water and my feet on the bottom.
Labels: School
¶ 6:03 PM 0 comments
Friday, September 30, 2005
Can't Get Right
No matter the year, month or day, something fucks up when it comes to my stomach or my food. Today was alright until about 1pm. Then all shit broke loose. I need to stop eating so late. And when I do eat late, having fools put like three cups of cheese on my quesadilla ain’t so hot. It tastes so good, though! I just gotta say no. That mess tasted good, but didn’t feel so good. Anyway.
Tonight, I was just trying to get my meal on. I wanted a sandwich, but the voice of reason called to my attention that even if I got the sandwich I wanted (gotta love anything called the Italian) it would be about the same as some damn pizza in terms of healthyness. This is true. However, I wanted a sandwich. Then, a stroke of brilliance hit me and was like, “Yo, you want to go to that place that serves that real good pizza that we gotta drive to and shit?” And he was like, “Oooh yeah!”.
So we hustle to my car. Ok, it wasn’t fast at all but thinking about the hot pizza we were going to be having made my step a little bit lighter. No time for the ipod, we were on a mission. So we navigate through campus, down the street and pull on into the parking lot. Normally, there are about fifty-eleven cars in the lot. Today, there were like only eleven. So I thinking and wondering, “What’s the deal!?” We get out, saw some folks standing in front of the doorway when we pulled in. We knew this place was open. So we go up to the door. No lights on. No people. No pizza. And a giant ass industrial size sink sitting in the middle of the floor. Either they’re closed, or their shit for real includes the kitchen sink.
There was a sign on the door. Something in a mix of gibberish, Spanish and something I think might have been English. Needless to say, we could not decipher what had happened to the Mecca of pizza (I can’t currently think of any better pizza place, but this one’s pretty close). That mess sucked. I had been thinking the entire car ride over there about what I was gonna get. You don’t play with me and my food! If you like your eyes or your fingers, you better come correct. By the way, this includes not serving me mustard-and-ham sandwiches at a party after you asked me what I wanted. I said chicken fingers and other fried shit cot damn it, not sandwiches. I’m not on some country club shit, get me food that will make me fat! Anyway, so we struggled to figure out where we would go. It’s like in that movie “AI” where Haley “I see dead people” Joel Osment (whatever it is) was looking for that city of the blue queen or something. He gets all the way there to find out it doesn’t exist. That’s what this is like. Except we didn’t sit in our car for seven-hundred years and freeze. And we left to go find other food. Anyway, got in the car and went to the main road with food.
So there is like zero parking on this street unless you got mad quarters. Being the baller that I am, I only deal in Benjamins (or Washingtons…but who’s keeping score?), so I had no change. They need to install like cash or debit card machines on those things. They would get much more business. Anyway, so we went and tried to find a spot in some of those overpriced pay lots. The one I always use was full. You just let one person in and two people out, give me a spot! The red full sign said, “No fool!” so we had to go somewhere else. So five feet down the street, I see a parking deck with the gates all up. Free, free, free. Sounds hot to me. So I roll up, park the car and we walk to the second rate pizza place we still eat at despite all the shit we talk about it each time we leave. So some stupid shit went down, and made it one of the most uncomfortable and not fun meals in history. Not to mention the pizza was shit. Left the bitch in a hurry, with a not fly tip on the table. Those people are always so angry. Improve your food and maybe I’ll improve my tip and then maybe you can improve your smile. That is, of course, if you have teeth. The people that work at this place are mad sketchy, so no teeth wouldn’t surprise me. This might explain why they never look nice. Anyway.
So dinner was dookie, meaning it’s really [the] shit. We head back to the free parking deck. All the gates are down and someone who I will refer to as Small Red was occupying the gate box. So I roll all the way up to the gate, expecting it to open, cause you know I didn’t pay. Then I look at Small Red like, you got to be kidding me. I roll down the window and say, “Uh, I didn’t pay anything to park. All the gates were up.”
“That’ll be three dollars,” Small Red said as he dug that number out of his ass. Not even knowing how much their for real hourly charge is, I hand that fool my three dollars. So then I’m like, “Motherfucker, don’t be fucking with me. The gates were up. You wanna get cut!?”
Ok, not actually what I said, but kinda funny. But I did ask why the gates were up and nobody was there to take my money. He said he was in the bathroom. Now that I think about it, I can sympathize. My life goes on hold every time I gotta go. But dammmmmmnnnnnn (like Smokey from “Friday”), why you gonna charge me now? I still paid that fool. But don’t let me see you in the streets! I honestly do not ever remember what this man looks like other than small with red hair. Oh well. Turns out the damn pizza place moved. To an entirely different city. Oh well. They always took too damn long anyway.
I am mad ridiculous sometimes. Other folks (no names, but if you think this is you, it probably is) are ridiculous, too. I feel like admitting my ridiculousness is a good thing (but knowing you act ridiculously is not so good). Anyway, I’m trying to work on that. So we talked about the shit that was bothering a fool. Then I went and saw “Fever Pitch”. At best, it was okay. I really like Drew Barrymore. I really do. But something about this movie made me feel like I was watching a live-action cartoon (instead of the other way around like “The Flintstones” or some shit). Those SNL folks need to stop thinking they can carry movies alone. The thought behind this was nice: love and baseball. In theory it works, in for realness, not so much. It could’ve been better. Oh well, it was free!
So that’s been the night so far. I think a trek to a mysterious convenience store is forthcoming, but only time will tell. You know it’s bad when you’re jonesin for juice. Sobe is the shit, for real. Power is the one. Anyway, I hope to see that and something Mexican tonight. So a hootie hoo and peace out. You ain’t got to go home, but you better get the hell out of here! ¶ 11:15 PM 0 comments
Tonight, I was just trying to get my meal on. I wanted a sandwich, but the voice of reason called to my attention that even if I got the sandwich I wanted (gotta love anything called the Italian) it would be about the same as some damn pizza in terms of healthyness. This is true. However, I wanted a sandwich. Then, a stroke of brilliance hit me and was like, “Yo, you want to go to that place that serves that real good pizza that we gotta drive to and shit?” And he was like, “Oooh yeah!”.
So we hustle to my car. Ok, it wasn’t fast at all but thinking about the hot pizza we were going to be having made my step a little bit lighter. No time for the ipod, we were on a mission. So we navigate through campus, down the street and pull on into the parking lot. Normally, there are about fifty-eleven cars in the lot. Today, there were like only eleven. So I thinking and wondering, “What’s the deal!?” We get out, saw some folks standing in front of the doorway when we pulled in. We knew this place was open. So we go up to the door. No lights on. No people. No pizza. And a giant ass industrial size sink sitting in the middle of the floor. Either they’re closed, or their shit for real includes the kitchen sink.
There was a sign on the door. Something in a mix of gibberish, Spanish and something I think might have been English. Needless to say, we could not decipher what had happened to the Mecca of pizza (I can’t currently think of any better pizza place, but this one’s pretty close). That mess sucked. I had been thinking the entire car ride over there about what I was gonna get. You don’t play with me and my food! If you like your eyes or your fingers, you better come correct. By the way, this includes not serving me mustard-and-ham sandwiches at a party after you asked me what I wanted. I said chicken fingers and other fried shit cot damn it, not sandwiches. I’m not on some country club shit, get me food that will make me fat! Anyway, so we struggled to figure out where we would go. It’s like in that movie “AI” where Haley “I see dead people” Joel Osment (whatever it is) was looking for that city of the blue queen or something. He gets all the way there to find out it doesn’t exist. That’s what this is like. Except we didn’t sit in our car for seven-hundred years and freeze. And we left to go find other food. Anyway, got in the car and went to the main road with food.
So there is like zero parking on this street unless you got mad quarters. Being the baller that I am, I only deal in Benjamins (or Washingtons…but who’s keeping score?), so I had no change. They need to install like cash or debit card machines on those things. They would get much more business. Anyway, so we went and tried to find a spot in some of those overpriced pay lots. The one I always use was full. You just let one person in and two people out, give me a spot! The red full sign said, “No fool!” so we had to go somewhere else. So five feet down the street, I see a parking deck with the gates all up. Free, free, free. Sounds hot to me. So I roll up, park the car and we walk to the second rate pizza place we still eat at despite all the shit we talk about it each time we leave. So some stupid shit went down, and made it one of the most uncomfortable and not fun meals in history. Not to mention the pizza was shit. Left the bitch in a hurry, with a not fly tip on the table. Those people are always so angry. Improve your food and maybe I’ll improve my tip and then maybe you can improve your smile. That is, of course, if you have teeth. The people that work at this place are mad sketchy, so no teeth wouldn’t surprise me. This might explain why they never look nice. Anyway.
So dinner was dookie, meaning it’s really [the] shit. We head back to the free parking deck. All the gates are down and someone who I will refer to as Small Red was occupying the gate box. So I roll all the way up to the gate, expecting it to open, cause you know I didn’t pay. Then I look at Small Red like, you got to be kidding me. I roll down the window and say, “Uh, I didn’t pay anything to park. All the gates were up.”
“That’ll be three dollars,” Small Red said as he dug that number out of his ass. Not even knowing how much their for real hourly charge is, I hand that fool my three dollars. So then I’m like, “Motherfucker, don’t be fucking with me. The gates were up. You wanna get cut!?”
Ok, not actually what I said, but kinda funny. But I did ask why the gates were up and nobody was there to take my money. He said he was in the bathroom. Now that I think about it, I can sympathize. My life goes on hold every time I gotta go. But dammmmmmnnnnnn (like Smokey from “Friday”), why you gonna charge me now? I still paid that fool. But don’t let me see you in the streets! I honestly do not ever remember what this man looks like other than small with red hair. Oh well. Turns out the damn pizza place moved. To an entirely different city. Oh well. They always took too damn long anyway.
I am mad ridiculous sometimes. Other folks (no names, but if you think this is you, it probably is) are ridiculous, too. I feel like admitting my ridiculousness is a good thing (but knowing you act ridiculously is not so good). Anyway, I’m trying to work on that. So we talked about the shit that was bothering a fool. Then I went and saw “Fever Pitch”. At best, it was okay. I really like Drew Barrymore. I really do. But something about this movie made me feel like I was watching a live-action cartoon (instead of the other way around like “The Flintstones” or some shit). Those SNL folks need to stop thinking they can carry movies alone. The thought behind this was nice: love and baseball. In theory it works, in for realness, not so much. It could’ve been better. Oh well, it was free!
So that’s been the night so far. I think a trek to a mysterious convenience store is forthcoming, but only time will tell. You know it’s bad when you’re jonesin for juice. Sobe is the shit, for real. Power is the one. Anyway, I hope to see that and something Mexican tonight. So a hootie hoo and peace out. You ain’t got to go home, but you better get the hell out of here! ¶ 11:15 PM 0 comments
