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.