I spent too long on this post. ROI is tanking

So I finally figured it out. The secret of blogs. It's so obvious, I should have known from the start. Attempting to placate the masses with failed attempts at humor is a fool's errand. The real money lies in...

~ ~ ~ Crafts! ~ ~ ~

So, in an attempt to become the Lord of the Blogs, I have thus forth verily set my hand to crafting epic crafts of epicness! Forsooth! My first creation!

I call this stroke of genius... Tissue Jug!

As anyone who has ever drank any liquid from any vessel can tell you, the consuming of libations may often result in the dribbling of beverages down the chin onto the garments of the imbiber! Well, maybe not anyone can tell you that. I certainly can. Anyway, I have crafted a modest device that will allow immediate rectification of chin dribblings! Tissue Jug! You don't even have to pull the tissue out! Just bury your face into that glorious paper of tissue and all your facial shortcomings* will be wiped away! No more pesky paper towels, no more wishy-washy washcloths. Just Tissue Jug. Alright, that's a craft. Next...

The Office Horn!

Sometimes in an office setting, you need a horn. When people are talking about the Sarah McLachlan concert they went to over the weekend, and you are trying to work on a big merger, or whatever people with normal jobs do in an office, wouldn't it be nice to just toot on your horn to let people know it's time to get back to the grindstone? Here we have it, The Office Horn! Or, El Horno de la Oficina, as they say Down South! What? No one says that Down South? And horno means oven? How the heck do you say horn? Cuerno? Well that just sounds terrible. New craft!

It's the Cuerno of Who Gives a Crap

Sorry about that. I get a little frustrated when names don't work out. If you already made one, I guess you could put flowers in it or something. Whatever. Anyway, there is my brief foray into crafting. More to come, if I feel like it. Actually, this was pretty exhausting. In fact, I know I'm not gonna feel like it, so Lord of the Blogs will have to go to someone else. Probably my sister. She redesigns furniture and stuff which you can see here. 

If you need blueprints for any of my designs... then you are worse at crafting than I am, and I weep for America. And anywhere that speaks Spanish, for the obvious miscall on the horno debacle.

*disclaimer: Tissue Jug is not responsible for prepurchase facial shortcomings, nor the removal thereof.

Staind's Most Popular Song

So I think about computers. A lot. Too much. And the other day I was wondering why, whenever there was an evil murderbot threatening to exterminate mankind, the hero never thought to make a situation where the machine would have to divide by 0. Every math student knows that division by 0 is undefined, but when you try to do division by 0 with a computer it often causes an error. Try it on your calculator. Chances are, you'll get some equivalent of "Error" on the screen. If the program running the murderbot doesn't check for this, it will probably crash the system. So if you are ever in this situation, and the murderbot decides to have a verbal standoff with you, here is a handy script:
You: What is your evil plan, you bad bot!?
MB: TO TERMINATE ALL HUMANS
You: And how do you plan to do that, you dastardly device!?
MB: MAKE A GRID OF ALL INHABITED AREAS, AND MURDER LOGICALLY
You: And how will you go about dividing the area into grids, you sinister synthetic!?
MB: EASY. TAKE THE AREA OF THE LAND AND DIVIDE IT BY...
You: Zero??
MB: ERROR.
Explosions and so forth ensue, the world is saved, the masses cheer your name and whatever.

Speaking of murderbots and scripts, I once started to write a musical about murderbots. Specifically, a murderbot that catches the Empathy Virus, and before his system is able to quarantine and purge it a hidden registry key gets created which causes the kernel to run a 'feelings' system call before he murders. (This may not be entirely correct, because I sort of slept through my Operating Systems course, but it's close enough. Plus I have to give people something to fight about over the internet). Normally a murderbot that catches this virus is terminated, but because his systems check came back normal and his murder quotas were some of the highest ever he was deemed fit to continue by the murderbot council. He then goes on a quest, to reformat his OS so that he may aid and assist humans of all shapes and sizes, and thus break free from his murderous purpose.
Disney stopped answering my calls so it didn't really get anywhere unfortunately. I mean, we are talking about an untapped market here. So much potential! And a good lesson too. Plus it's a musical! You can take any old garbage and set it to music, and it becomes an instant hit!

So anyway, I hope the NSA doesn't have some sort of limit on the number of times the word 'murder' can be used in a blog, because then I would get flagged big time. IT IS SATIRE NSA FOLKS! PROTECTED FIRST AMENDMENT SPEECH I HOPE. And I'm getting into that weird rambling zone where my ideas just sort of barf onto the keyboard and aren't very coherent, so yeah that shall be it for now.

RANDOM FACT
I talked with the NSA for a while at a career fair. They said the pay wasn't very good, at least for linguists.

healthy living

So lately I've been trying to not turn into a gelatinous blob, and it has been going fairly well. As in, I'm not yet in blob form mostly. But daaannng it has not been easy. As a person who pretty much his whole life never had to worry about what he eats or how much he exercises, trying consciously to be healthier has been a real battle. I've learned that I am addicted to:

1. Juicy burgers
2. Juicy sodas
3. Sitting down
4. Lying down
5. Drowning my sorrows in sugar and fat
6. Yelling at strangers to "Stop judging me!" as I smear strips of bacon across my face

So yeah, it was getting pretty bad. But I've been trying to adjust my diet by cooking more at home and eating more fruit and stuff as snacks, and so far it's working, albeit I'm hungry almost all the time now.

My next step is to find workouts for people who don't work out. And I don't mean that machine that straps a band around your waist and jiggles the fat around, I mean real workouts that start slow. I asked my little bro to send me a workout plan, and the first exercise on there nearly gave me a heart attack, and I was sore for a week afterwards. Of course, he thinks it's fine because he has the body of a Norse god and the energy of a... Norse god. Whereas I have the body of a computer nerd who sits typing all day and the energy of the Mountain Dew I drank 4 days ago.

My plan is to go to the library more often. "Well that's a stupid plan, Austin!" you say ignorantly. Verily no, I reply, because the school library is full of pretty girls, like all the time. As I sit in the library, either being pitied or stared at in disgust (due to the bacon grease I forgot to wipe off my face), I should be sufficiently motivated to get a rock hard beach body (or at least a less soft nerd body). Or maybe find a nerd girl who can overlook my physical deficiencies, in which case mission accomplished anyway.

FACT OF THE DAY:
I am no longer Chancho. He retired.

Going nutz!

Sometimes, when I'm sitting at my desk working alone, I suddenly realize I have had "Miami" by Will Smith stuck in my brain on repeat for hours... and it's proof that I'm going insane. It isn't even the whole song, not even the whole chorus, but it repeats, endlessly, in the background of my mind jams. I don't even know all the lyrics of this little snippet of chorus, but it's there. Rambling around in my skull.

I've been trying to decide what insanity actually is. Whatever it is, this is close to it. I remember reading Joseph Heller's "Catch 22" and having a hard time following because everything in that book reads like a crazy person wrote it. And in fact, insanity is the theme of the book! So, it was probably intentional.

Some whackadoo said something about how if you think you are insane, then you probably aren't (actually, I think that was half of the "Catch 22"). I don't think that's true, necessarily. Everyone shows a bit of crazy here and there, and I'm sure we are all perfectly aware of it. Putting toothpaste in the fridge? Been there. Pants on backwards? Been there too. Eat an entire pizza to Cindy Lauper's "Time After Time"? Yup. I think these little episodes are the things that keep us sane. If everything went as planned, no bumps, hiccups, moldy cheeses or faceplants, it would be weird. Like the matrix. You'd start seeing black cats everywhere and have deja vu and run around screaming about glitches and the keymaster and what have you. Padded cell vacation coming up!

Anyway, I forgot where I was going with this, or maybe I've already gotten there. I'll just leave you with the stirring words of a great philosopher poet, who wisely once said:

"Party in the city where the heat is on all night blah blah til the break of dawn. Welcome to Miami, bienvenido a Miami. Party in the city where the heat is on all night blah blah..."




PROFILE STATUS UPDATE:
Favorite Fridge Snack: String cheese. Then toothpaste.

Amazingnessity

I'm working on some really brain bending stuff right now, so I thought I would take a break and share both the greatest and most terrible thing I have ever seen.

Everyone needs to watch this:

Great song... but oh my gosh, probably the worst music video ever. You need to watch until at least the 4 minute mark. hahahaha. I love it!

Now that I am done LOLing in the computer lab (people are starting to stare, as is the case when anyone LOLs in public), time to get back to work. Later!

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.

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.

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.

http://www.amazon.com/Innova-Champion-Groove-165-170g/dp/B0046HY5MW/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1338673084&sr=8-2

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.

DAILY SOMETHING SOMETHING UPDATE (I forgot what I called it)

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!

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.

DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE

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

Busy

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!

DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE

Favorite luncheon meat: Smoked Ham

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...


TOM HANKS WAS TRYING TO MAKE MY EXPERIENCE INTO A MOVIE!

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.


DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE

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

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.

Sorry.

Maybe someone could blog for me?

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.

DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE

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

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.


DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE:

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

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.

FANTASY FOOTBALL PROFILE UPDATE:


DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE:

Favorite Ice Cream: Heath Bar

Curses and Kudos. Not really. Well, maybe one of those.

Ah curse you ingrown toenail! Just about the worst thing that can happen to a toe. Except maybe getting it lopped off. If you couldn't tell, I'm trying to get rid of an ingrown toenail right now and I almost wish I had just let it be. The sucker is more entrenched in there than (insert new relevant dictatorship metaphor now that the go-to Kim Jong Il is off the table).

Anyhow, that is disgusting. Almost as disgusting as the naked Korean hobo I saw outside the Shingil subway station. But we shall save that one for another time.

As I was thinking about what to write, nothing came to mind, as is standard with these things I suppose. So I decided just to write what comes in my head. That would be the band Rush, because I just got their greatest hits and I'm listening to it while I type. So if I randomly throw a "Tom Sawyer" in there just ignore it.

I wrote something a little bit ago about starting my own clothing company, and how I couldn't do it because I could only draw stick figures (read the post if you can't figure this out). Well, I thought that I had worked around it with my new design company, Eurotool. See, I would make clothes for all the tools out there, and it would be funny because the brand is, effectively, "You're a tool." If you don't know what a tool is... you've lived a sheltered life and the world is a better place for you. My store would have the deepest V-neck shirts, the most ambiguous manpris, fedoras with feathers in them, etc*. Basically, it would be Jason Mraz's dream store. And the design would be so simply. All I would have to do is turn the words Eurotool into artsy metal lettering and plaster it over everything. But alas! There is a company already named Eurotool. And get this: It's a company in Europe that makes tools! The nerve! So any lawyers out there, if there is a way to get around this I would give you a free fedora or maybe some manpris* if you could get me that name. Or some extra strength faux hawk hair gel.

*If you wear any of these things... I'm sorry. But being a tool is 50% attitude, so redemption is still a possibility for you.

*As I was at a loss for a word to call a pair of capris for a man, I went with this. I don't know how to spell it or what it's supposed to be called, so let's just leave it at that.

DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE

Favorite Diva: Mariah Carey

Best Wishes

Merry Christmas everyone! Hope you have a most excellent holiday!


DAILY PERSONAL PROFILE UPDATE

Favorite day around Christmas: Christmas (Christmas Eve... a close second.)