Thursday, September 13, 2012

Don't get used to this.

What I don't get is how some creatures have evolved specifically to keep me up at night. Why do they have to be so noisy? Is it because it's dark, and they want all their buddies to know where they are? I heard once that frogs croaking in the night were basically shouting out pickup lines to all the lady frogs out there. So why are there 200 lusting frogs right outside my window? And how can they... erm, get it on every single night? It's gotta be some sort of genetic modification, introduced by someone really annoying.

And because of this I sleep with a fan on most nights. Not only for the cooling breezes, but also for the white noise. It's been great, except for when the fan tips over and chews a stray pencil into a billion pieces. And as noisy as that gets, it is not worse than my greatest nemesis. Rob Schneider.

Just kidding! I'm sure Mr. Schneider is very... Deep down he really is... I bet he's great. ish.

No, what really gets me is the dryer. Our dryer has a novel device built inside of it (really deep inside) that sounds a buzzer when the laundry is done. Or so one would think. This buzzer sounds for about a solid half second (which is decades in buzzer-time), but the dryer doesn't stop. Apparently, it's just a warning buzzer for the real buzzer, which sounds off after 3 more warning buzzers. Now, during normal laundry hours, (11am to 3pm, post them somewhere in your homes) this isn't such a big deal, but during roommate get-random-stuff-done time (1am to whenever, bro) this can be a little harrowing. When Satan's Doorbell (that's my nickname for it) goes off mid REM cycle, it's a crap-your-pants the-world-is-ending moment for the entire half second. Which would be fine, except when I finally get calmed down enough to start drifting away again, warning buzzer numero dos blares throughout the homestead. This continues until 1. the roommate gets his clothes or 2. I pass out due to intense trauma of the bladder region.

So I guess the moral of the story is.. Frog Abstinence.

I really hope someone finds my blog by searching for that.

It'll probably be me, later.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Epic Milestone!

Congratulations are in order! This is my 50th blog post!

Actually, it's the 67th, I just wanted you to feel excited about reading it. Sorry if it's a total letdown.

School got out a few weeks ago, and afforded me a small break to accomplish many wonderful things. So naturally, I did nothing. Well, that's not true. I did stuff, but nothing world-changing. Yet.

Mainly, I rekindled my past love of disc golfing. When I was in high school, a disc golf course opened up near the college campus. My friends and I took up the sport, and spent many hours "hitting the links" or whatever the parlance is these days. I graduated and headed off to college to engage in greater (lesser?) things, and promptly lost all interest and skill in disc golfing. Until now! (I started listening to Dave Matthews Band again too. Think what you will.) 

I tell you what, it's been a pretty good way to start getting back in shape. There is a decent course near my workplace, and it has pretty challenging holes, with a creek running through the middle. And notwithstanding the beer-guzzling hordes (we try to go at 8 am, where hangovers and sunlight take care of most of 'em) it's great being out in nature and away from stress triggers. Like I-15.

Right now my go-to disc is the Groove, by Innova.

It's got pretty good distance, and it tends to go straighter than other discs. I've got a few other discs that bend left or right, to help with those pesky shrubberies! I've really noticed that paying attention to the specs on the disc has helped my game considerably. Instead of trying to guess where the disc will end up when I throw it, I can know generally where it will end up and plan accordingly (Except for those crazy errant throws that could end up who knows where).

Anyway, blah blah, I know how boring it is when people talk about stuff that isn't interesting. I do, however, recommend that you find a few discs and a course and go disc golfing. You might find yourself... well... in a ditch trying to make a wild throw through 15 cottonwood trees. Maybe that's just me.


Favorite kind of foot: A clean foot.  Runner-up: Fruit-by-the-foot.
Favorite pants: The green ones I stole from my brother a few weeks ago. Thanks bro!

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

This LITERALLY took me two days to write! Update: I don't know how to use 'literally' properly.

Today as I was walking to class, Steve Winwood's "Higher Love" got called up to the big leagues by my iPod. For some reason, as I was listening to it, I really REALLY wanted to make a music video for this song.
The main premise to my mental music video is that:

Steve Winwood's band only has Steve Winwood.

I don't actually know what Steve Winwood looks like, but I assume he looks like Sting or Michael Bolton or some combination of the two. Anyway, it would have him playing a synthesizer through the entire song, giving everyone their fill of funky synth beats. I haven't decided whether I want the drums in the video to be synthesized or for him actually to be working drums with his feet, one-man-band style. So he's jiving to this groove on the synthesizer, singing his song, banging on drums, and when it finally gets to the part with the synth trumpets, Winwood hauls out a real trumpet and goes to town. I guess you'd have to listen to the song to know how awesome this would be.

The thing that shocks me most about listening to Steve Winwood on my iPod is that this is my dad's music. Yep, my dad. The guy who has the range of Mariah Carey and is not afraid to use it. And he pretty much has to, with his taste in music in mind. I don't remember a whole lot of what he listens to, just a bunch of people with weird names like Luther Vandross and Sade. And a lot of men singing way higher than men are supposed to. When I was growing up, I thought that this is what music was. Mom only listened to piano music, and dad listened to men with dog whistle voices and women that sounded like Barry White. When I finally discovered, I don't know, bands like the Foo Fighters, my dad called it "devil music", and forbade me from playing it (when he was around).

So being a typical teenager, I, with devil music in tow, swore never to listen to any of my dad's music, ever. And I pretty much didn't. Until 2011. Boom! All of the sudden, I'm listening to Billy Joel. Steve Winwood. Earth, Wind, and Fire. I seriously entertained buying some Hall & Oates songs. I bought Baker Street, by Gerry Rafferty (I don't know if my dad listens to this song, but he probably should).

And then, as most slippery slopes go, I kept tumbling downhill. Cher. George Michael. CHUMBAWAMBA! OK, it stopped there. Well, it kinda stopped at Baker Street. But anyway! Alas! My self-image depreciated from a savvy post-modern individualistic heavy metalcore alternative developmental rock guru* to some-kinda-disco-polka-something-or-other-dad's-lite-rock-listener.

I'll recover though. It'll just take a couple months of devil music to get my confidence back. Literally.

*I don't actually know what any of these words mean. I just see myself like this. In fact, I don't know if any of this makes any sense. I didn't proofread it.


Things I do instead of homework: Write on this blog, post stupid status updates on Facebook.

Sunday, February 5, 2012


So I have definitely been too busy to write lately. I have a little bit of time this Sunday to write something so maybe someone will read it sometime somewhere somehow. Or maybe not. Going to school at 9 am and getting back from work at 9:30 pm leaves little time for "pleasure writing" (said very snootily) especially with homework sandwiched in the gaps. Nevertheless, I will try to, as the commoners say, "throw you a bone" (said as snootily as possible).
Today was the Super Bowl. As someone who talks about football a great deal, you would expect me to write something about it. Well, there it was. I actually fell asleep partway through, continuing my tradition of falling asleep during 4 straight Super Bowls. I didn't really care for the matchup. It seemed similar to the college football nat'l championship. Two admittedly great teams that I couldn't care less about. So I fell asleep. Some man I am. I remember falling asleep the last time the Patriots and the Giants played in the super bowl. I missed the David Tyree catch, and had to watch it on the YouTubes. This time I saw the Mario Manningham catch, but I missed just about everything else. But hey, anyone else who was warm and full of meatballs would have fallen asleep too.

One day this week I listened to "I Wanna Love You Forever" by Jessica Simpson around 8 times in a row while I was driving my car.

And that's it for me! Later!


Favorite luncheon meat: Smoked Ham

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Maybe not so bad.

Alright, so last night I was having this dream. No not some kind of touchy-feely dream about peace and joy spread throughout all colors and creeds. That MLK line gets so overused, and not in a good way. Fewer "I have a dream" jokes people! That should be first on the President's list of laws to get passed.

No, this was just a regular ol' crazy dream. I was on my way to California, somewhere in the Bay Area I think. I finally got to my destination, which was... dental school. Yeah, I was trying to be a dentist. I remember that this school was really prestigious, and I really wanted to go there. I walked into the admissions office, and greeted all inside. After making my petition, I was devastated to learn that this school, this school for dentists, was mostly only for women. They had already filled their quota of men and were only accepting female applicants. Whaaaat? As crushing defeat washed over me...

Bleep blap bloop blah bleep my alarm started going off. (that's what it sounds like when I'm tired)

I deftly hit the snooze button and settled back for another nine minutes, steeling my resolve to get in to this dental school this time around.

Much to my dismay, the dream was almost the same. The one difference being that...


There he was, trying to get into this all-girl dental school in California. 9 minutes is a short time, so the movie/dream ended before he got in, although I imagine he had to cross-dress for some application interview and then fell in love with the TA of his incisors class.

Hollywood is always doing crap like that.


Favorite breakfast cereal: Reese's Puffs Cereal, although it wreaks havoc on my thighs.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

My bad

Uh oh.

I just started school again so I am going to be crazy busy for the next few weeks.

Don't hold it against me if I don't blog very often.

I might have to just to let some crazy out. Or I might keep the crazy in, like usual.


Maybe someone could blog for me?

Friday, January 6, 2012

Don't read this if you like in depth writing.

Well, the Detroit Lions' season is over. Well played, lads. Well played.

Have you ever found a new song that you liked and listened to it 30 times in a row? I have, except I listen to it in my mind. Over and over again.

Are there some foods that you don't like, but you don't know why? I ran into two of them today. Olives and raisins. I don't know why I don't like them, I just don't. And it's not for lack of trying them. I have eaten many a raisin and olive in my day, and there is just something about them that doesn't appeal to me. A mixture of the taste, texture, and bad past experiences maybe.

Do you ever have the urge to exercise, but then sit on the couch and eat chips and dip instead? Ok, I was just trying to round this out with a third question.

And now I'm off to watch a Lord of the Rings marathon with my cousin. Maybe I'll expand on some of these things later. Or maybe not.


Favorite movie marathon: LOTR. Or no... X-Men. Wait... Fast & Furious. Dang... Star Wars. Star Trek?

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Not my best work. Just so you know.

Time to spit a little of "da troof."

Now, "da troof" is vastly different from "the truth." With the truth, you actually have to be somewhat accurate. When you say da troof, you can say anything you want, as long as A. You can explain your point coherently, or B. You are bigger than the person receiving da troof, and thusly can defend your statement with your fists. There might be a C in there too, but it's probably racist. Anyway, here's an example: Dan Rather. If, say, he had been the size of Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, then no one would have questioned the legitimacy of the Killian documents. Unfortunately, Dan Rather is the size of Dan Rather, and those memos were fake. He got busted, and therefore was caught not telling "the truth".

So here is a bit of "da troof": Or something that I felt like writing about and introduced it with this thing that I started writing but then didn't know how to finish: You decide: Colon:

People are always saying to each other, "Have a good evening" or "Have a nice day." What's up with that? Yeah, sure, this evening might be good, but what about the other 50,000 evenings? (number dependent on age and risk taking. Wait, I just figured out that 50,000 evenings equates to almost 137 years. I guess the only thing that number is dependent on is whether you're a wizard or not) So how about "Have a good year"? Yeah, that's good... for about a year. Have a good lifetime? Again, ruling out all the zombies and vampires. Don't they deserve a good period of undeadyness?

So what should we say to one another upon parting? I nominate a solid "Hey..... alright" with a curt nod of the head, after which taking a sharp turn and walking the opposite direction at a brisk pace. Doesn't matter where you were headed. Just turn around, and go. This prevents any hurt feelings for having or not having a good whatever, and also shields against the inevitable run-in 15 minutes later at the other end of the grocery store. Just think of how many post-parting regreets we can avoid with this. Billions! Or maybe dozens! I don't know. Personally, if I see anyone I know at the store, I greet, meet, and beat it. I ditch everything in the nearest cart and hightail it out of the store.  I haven't been able to buy any food in months.

Luckily, cheese self-regenerates if you leave it out long enough, so I'm good.


Favorite song by Lou Bega: I feel like this category is a trap... Can I withhold my answer? No? Darn it... Mambo #5

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Not very entertaining

Well, fantasy football is coming to an end and I am going crazy right now. I'm in the championship game and I have three Cowboys players on my team. Unfortunately, my opponent Sanchez has 2 Cowboys players on his team, and they are the only ones scoring points right now. This stupid game gives me more grief than my real problems. Haha. Ha.

So I'll try to focus on writing something important while chewing my nails off and keeping one eye on the television screen.

I want to know if telekinesis is possible. Even if it requires a huge clunky machine, it would be so awesome. You could just use your telekinesis to move the clunky machine! Unless that violates some rule, like how on the Star Wars LEGO video games you can't use the force to lift a platform that your character is standing on. Yeah, probably not possible.

What is "free-range chicken"? A stove is also called a range, and that sounds like animal cruelty.

What does "bawitdaba" mean?

Gary Busey?

I tried to warn you that I wasn't going to be able to write anything good this time.



Favorite Ice Cream: Heath Bar