Random junk

I've got a serious problem.

I can't stop listening to electro-pop. And Creed.

Maybe this is one of those "First World Problems" I hear so much about on social media. You know, the ones that say something like, "Waited 7 minutes in the drive-thru line at Burger King. Car temp went from 70 degrees to an uncomfortable 73. hashtag, firstworldproblem" Or something like that. I don't know what the kids are talking about these days. Besides electro-pop.

Actually, I do know what the kids are talking about. Justin Bieber. Take Facebook for example. It seems like the people my age group (and older!) don't use the 'Like' button as much as some of the younger people do. At least I tell myself that when something legitimately funny that I post only gets 2 likes and some dumb crap by Justin Bieber gets 15 gajillion likes. "OMG white skinny jeans 4 orphans." Click and like. Who cares if you are on Oprah, Bieber?? Huh? Get a haircut. No, Bieber! Not that one! A normal haircut. That's better.

I forgot where I was going with any of this. I went through a phase a few weeks ago where all I listened to was Creed's greatest hits, and I think that did something to my brain. I also mumble half the things I say, and my singing voice has gotten significantly huskier. It really made things interesting last week when I was singing along to Britney Spears' greatest hits (not her actual greatest hits. Just the ones I think are great). Britney would have sold a million more albums if her voice was an octave deeper.

Alright, well I think I wasted about 12 potential blog posts with the content in this one. Sorry bout that. Had a big test today and I pretty much studied all night for it. Tune in next time for when I talk (complain?) about how much I complain.

A little about me:

I complain. A lot.

Movie title scene

Scene: Dimly lit smoky bar, empty except for one man facing away. He's got a bottle and a shot glass. Two suits walk in and stand behind him.

"What do you want?" Jim Trawler growled at the two men in the dim light of the empty bar.

"The government needs your help, Mr. Trawler." The taller of the two men spoke crisply.

Trawler continued to stare at his glass.

"It's President Dixon. Your father."

"My father? When has he been my father? I've made it so far without his money, and without his name. And I prefer to keep it that way. Leave me alone."

"He's been kidnapped."

"So send some of your 'Secret Service' goons to go get him."

"It isn't that simple, Mr. Trawler."

Trawler spun around. Scars marred his face, one cutting across his nose and another dragging under his eye.

"Well, then, simplify it, and get outta my face!" The hatred flashed in Trawler's eyes as he barked at the men.

"Jim," the shorter, older man whispered. "The kidnapper is your half-brother."

Jim turned back to his glass, and drained it in one swift motion.

"Alright." He muttered. "But we do things my way."

The door crashed open with a loud bang, revealing a shapely silhouette.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, brother."

Jim groaned. "You brought her here?"

"Jim, the president's daughter has every right to be here as you do." The older man stated matter-of-factly.

"Time to find a new bar."

One father. Three siblings. 2 hours of jaw-dropping heart-stopping action!

The Illegitimates

Coming straight to DVD near no one

blessed reunion

If I ever get into a fight with a guy that's bigger than me, I'll turn to him and say, "I'm gonna take you to the dance." After which he will be confused and I'll have ample time to run away.
If I ever get into a fight with a guy that's smaller than me, boy, I sure hope he isn't scrappy.

Speaking of which, did you know they make chicken tikka masala in TV dinner form now?

No, wait, that wasn't the segue. I've been working out recently, and it's actually been pretty good. Normally, when I worked out in the past, I quit after one trip to the gym. (Actually that's not true. One time in high school I decided I was going to run 300 miles over 3 months in the winter. I ran 21 miles the first week, got the flu, and then quit.)

The biggest problem I have with working out is that I'm still fat. I can do a pretty good job of hiding it, you know, when I'm clothed, but the pre-shower flex in the mirror time is a sad sad experience. I mean, I guess I understand that if I eat Lucky Charms every day for every meal it's gonna take quite a bit of work/time, but still, I've been at it for like a month or something. And I'm up to using the 12 lb weights! So what gives, body? I can totally understand why people would buy those things that strap to your belly and electro shock the fat away, because, well, people are lazy and would give any excuse to workout while they sit and watch reruns of Cheers, but also because it would be nice to get a zap every once in a while, just to let me know that what I'm doing is making a difference. Even if it really isn't.

So tonight, I'm going to try and run 2 miles. Yep, 2. In a row. Without:
1. Stopping
2. Walking
3. Eating
4. Barfing
5. Goofing off
6. Passing out
7. Sweating

And maybe without some other involuntary bodily functions. I haven't decided yet.

So wish me luck, varied denizens of the web! And may we all run, toward our dreams.
And away from people with chainsaws.


Profile update:

I love Indian food. Or maybe just masala. It's just so darn expensive. That TV dinner was like 6 bucks! Making it 3x the cost of every other TV dinner. I can get 2, maybe three boxes of Lucky Charms for that.

TMI?

I just checked my Google AdSense account, and I've made 11 cents! In 2 years! Forget school, I think I've found my new day job.

Actually, I better wait until I've made at least 40 cents. Then I can just live off the interest.

So this morning I was waiting for the bus, and like usual it was late. This bus comes every fifteen minutes, but it is always 8-12 minutes late (or 3-7 minutes early? I don't know. I've never tried to catch the first one). Anyway, I spent the whole morning trying to connect the bus number (#2) with fiber and being regular, but I couldn't do it. My best one was: "Hey UTA! Why don't you add some fiber into the transit system so your #2's are more regular!" Yeah, pretty crappy. Ha! Let's see how many poop puns I can make: ... uh, hmmm.... looks like just the one. Bummer. If you can link all those into a better joke, I'll give you a third of my AdSense revenue to date. You can retire early!


Something about me profile status update or whatever:

I need a girlfriend.