Joe and Pete are Interesting

A personal message to Spotify

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Fri, 30 Sep 2011 04:41:00 +0000

Dear Spotify,

I discovered something unpleasant about you today that I believe the world needs to realize before more damage is done. You, Spotify, have been posting all the songs I listen to on you to my Facebook wall. This is decidedly unacceptable. You didn't even ask me first! Even farmville had the decency to ask me before it posted horribly obnoxious messages about how many cows I milked in a day or when I bought a fancy new barn because it was almost christmas and I wanted to reward little farmer me for all the hard work he does. Obviously, I told farmville to post these things so my friends could see my achievements. But you are a different case spotify because I use you for a very specific reason: to listen to embarrassing music that I don't want to download to my iTunes.

When I have the shameful urge to listen to Shania Twain, I turn to you to satisfy my secret love of sassy country pop. And I love that about you Spotify, but that is a secret best kept between me you and Shania. I don't need all my friends, relatives, acquaintances, people I met once at a party, and people I couldn't remember but we had enough mutual friends so I accepted their friend request anyway to see when "Man, I Feel Like A Woman!" is playing in my headphones. It's really none of their business and I'd prefer to enjoy Ms. Twain without your subtly-judgmental statements about my music choices on my profile. You can try to make it sound like your just being friendly about it, casually letting people know that "Joe Ziemba listened to 'Don't Be Stupid (You Know I Love You)' by Shania Twain" but I know you are secretly mocking me, metaphorically pointing your virtual finger and laughing in my face. Well you know what Spotify, there's nothing wrong with liking Shania, she is a talented and wonderful woman with life experiences to share with us through music!

Kind Gestures for the Sick

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 01:54:00 +0000

A short poem for my sickly roommate:

Dear next door roommate, in the bathroom across the hall

I can tell your very ill, I hear you puking through the wall

Your dry heaves are horrendous, as you barf with all your might

You should consider the possibility, of an alien parasite

I know its not that likely, but its good just to make sure

I don’t want to make you clean your own entrails off the floor

Whatever sickness you have, I hope it gets better soon

Because it’s really inconvenient to have you hogging the bathroom

I don’t want to be rude, but now with that said

If you don’t get out soon I swear I’ll pee on your bed.

I’m not kidding.

An excerpt from "Spring Break: The Early Days"

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 11:58:00 +0000

Wherein I talk about hell, wine, and rich people.

During an impossibly long feeling 6 hour drive to Kiawah, South Carolina for spring break this year, I realized how much life sucked before man found fire and brought into his cave then realized it was too damn hot so he put that shit out and cranked up the AC. And lo, the air conditioner was invented. Being hot is a terrible feeling, definitely top 10 worst feelings of my life. I mean, its below "dissolving my stomach lining with vodka" on the list of terrible pains I've experienced, but definitely above "swamp ass" and "crunchy Bologna." So yeah, it's up there.

I had to be uncomfortably hot for like three whole hours during this car ride. The AC was broken, but apparently driving friend has heat proof skin or is secretly a fire-dwelling lizard monster because he had that shit blowing hot air the whole time. We were all too hot to complain, but we made the effort to save ourselves by opening the window from time to time. That lasted maybe 3 seconds before fire-lizard in the drivers seat rolled it back up.

Eventually my increasing amount of ball sweat over-rode my desire to not expend energy and I opened the window again. Demon-fire-lizard closed it again but the swampiness of my ass was at an all time high and something needed to be done before I ran out of liquid and started excreting dusty chunks of my internal organs.

“Dude stop doing that! What do you have against air?”

“The air is on.” Hissed the lizard monster.

“But your AC is broken it's just blowing hot air”

“I don’t want the windows open while the air is on, it’s pointless.”

“I’m pretty sure your air vents are pulling straight from the depths of hell.”

“It’s the same air that comes in the windows.”

“Except for the part where Satan might as well be LITERALLY farting into this car because its THAT HOT IN HERE!”

Backseat passanger friends backed me up with a solid logical argument that didn’t involve any allusions to a lake of fire or Satan (which were my main points), and we ultimately won the window battle.

About half an hour later was pit stop time at a quality gas station. I can tell it was a quality gas station because the first thing on display was a rack of wine for “$8 and Under!” as the sign proudly told me. I have a few problems with this wine. For one, when your classiest wine selection is only eight dollars you have no business selling wine. Also, if you’re buying wine from the discount rack at a gas station, you probably need something stronger to take away that sting of getting fired from your job at the Burger King. It’s a hard, hard life and you’ll need a higher alcohol content than $8 wine can provide to make the pain go away.

Shortly after thinking that I realized I was in no position to judge. I was wearing a cut-off t-shirt that said "For a good time call: 1-800-Suns Out? GUNS OUT!" Which I clearly wrote myself because it was in sharpie marker so I couldn't even blame it on the shirt. I was probably the least classy person in that gas station. People could’ve easily assumed I was homeless and I probably shouldn’t have made fun of the eight dollar wine because everyone in that store expected me to pick the cheapest bottle, put it in a paper bag and start chugging out on the curb. The thought crossed my mind to dress a little classier next time I had to be in public, but then I bought some Cheetos and stopped caring about that because, DAMN do I love me some Cheetos.

Two hours later we finally rolled up to the gates of Kiawah, or as I renamed it “The Hidden Island of the Rich People.” The one-white-glove-wearing gatekeeper doesn’t let anyone past him without a parking pass, but theres no barricade or guard rail. It's literally just this guy with his one glove. So I'm assuming people stop and let him check their passes pending threat of of being devoured by a fire-dwelling lizard monster because it's definitely hot enough there to have those. We had to get our friend who lived there to call the gate and convince them that despite the trashy kid wearing a cut-off shirt in the front seat, we were allowed to be there. "Sorry for not wearing your golf-outting attire fancy island people, I guess I'm just not good enough for you." I said snarkily in my head to cover up for my shame of looking like a homeless reject from MTV's Real World....so much shame.

Adventures in Sleep Depravation

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 15:01:00 +0000

I’ve taken to reading a lot lately, not anything useful of course, like my boring books for my Literature class. God no. I’ve been reading internet things. This is never good, nothing productive ever comes from me and the internet interacting on a casual basis.

Especially when I’m sleep deprived. Like right now. Yesterday I was also sleep deprived. Every time I sat in a chair my brain went all “YES, SLEEP NOW DEEP SLEEP” but I couldn’t sleep because I had to work so I put so much caffeine into me that I became a freaking MACHINE of being awake but really was incapable of accomplishing anything. And then last night I gave my brain permission to sleep (as I generally do every night) but it got all holier-than-thou on me and decided it wanted to stay up alllllll night and do nothing but be extremely excitable about internet memes. Then I went to the gas station at 6AM and bought 2 Starbucks coffee can things and watched the sun rise.

But the second the first ray of sunlight graced my presence, asshole-brain decided that’s when it was time to sleep. Because I’m now an opossum and have to be nocturnal? No, I have daylight responsibilities asshole-brain, so fuck off. Conscious self took control over my needy body and its physiological requirements for things like sleep and proper nutrition. You know what body? I OWN you, bend to my will. I SAID BEND DAMMIT.

But it’s a losing battle. Apparently when running on no sleep, normal everyday activities such as walking and having proper vision take a lot of skill. Walking straight takes all my willpower. I go slow, keep my balance, and eventually make it to my destination. But it’s a struggle when giant mutant flies that can’t possibly be normal size because when did they start making flies that god damned big plunge in front of your face like you’re a freakin bug zapper and disrupt your focus and sense of determination and you have to throw your arms out to protect yourself from the impending doom and make loud exasperated noises when you realize your holding a cup of hot coffee that you just catapulted into the air and need to avoid because you decided to wear one of your nice shirts today in hopes that the fanciness will distract people from your hideous sleepy death face so you stagger like one of your legs is falling off and land on a conveniently placed outdoor barbeque

...*deep breath*…OK, I’m better. I’m calm now.

Don’t worry, the shirt is safe.

I probably shouldn’t be allowed to drive in this condition either. I did anyway because I am a SURVIVOR and I don’t let my physical needs get in the way of my hopes and dreams. Forgetting which side of the road your supposed to drive on isn’t that bad anyway, everyone does that sometimes right?....Right?

Sleep deprived me also has an irrational fear of anything that moves. This includes, but is not limited to, squirrels, birds, cars that I didn’t see as I started crossing the road because I have tunnel vision, more squirrels (they’re EVERYWHERE) and my own body parts that decided they wanted to move involuntarily. Sleep deprived world is a scary place.

The Best Birthday Present Ever!

noreply@blogger.com (Pete) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 06:19:00 +0000

It's my drawing of Joe surprised. This is not only just a gift of my fantastic art work, it also technically counts as a post, which makes this a DOUBLE GIFT.

Its almost like we had a surprise party on the blog just for Joe. Just look at how excited he is.
Happy Belated Birthday Joe

If you happen to see Joe you should probably tell him Happy Belated Birthday as well, cause you missed the real day....Slackers

Update:

I just realized this is our first ever Birthday Post. How about a big round of applause for our blog lasting until one of us had a birthday. On second thought, hold the applause, if people see you clapping at your computer they might think you're crazy.

Update #2:

We here at Joe and Pete are interesting do not discourage small acts of insanity. Being slightly off balance myself I can understand the need to do irrational things. If you really want to clap at your computer go ahead, and keep on being awesome

Update #3:

Everyone around you is still probably going to judge you, just sayin....

Bieb-ocalypse Now

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 21:25:00 +0000

Justin Bieber is taking over the world. I used to think Miley Cyrus would be the teen pop sensation to rule the minds of the under 15 crowd and use them to establish a new world order. Then she became a slut, took some naked back pictures and danced in a bird cage so she was done for. Then the Jonas Brothers appeared and I was sure that their strength as teen heartthrobs and the fact that there were three of them would bring forth a new era in which girls aged 10-17 would control the planet and do the JoBros bidding. But soon everyone realized they wore purity rings, were serious about it, and their carreers went to shit because the oldest one got married to hide the fact that he's gay and then they got a failur-ific TV show on the Disney Channel. They didn't stand a chance.

But now I'm 100% positive I've discovered the one closet case to destroy them all. Justin Bieber is the bringer of the end. Don't believe me? Well then BEHOLD! Behold the truth and evidence I have collected that undoubtly prove Justin Bieber is going to reign terror down from the skies.

This is the Biebocalypse.

1. "Bieber-Fever" a.k.a. Mind control

Trust me, it's true. Just look at the people he's sunk his dainty little talons into already! For one, he is signed for a record deal by Usher. Usher is supposed to be cool and badass what the hell is he doing with Bieber? Only explanation: mind control. On one of his songs, Bieber features Ludacris. LUDACRIS SANG WITH JUSTIN BIEBER! This is Luda, one of the most badass of the badass. He sings songs like "Yous a Ho." He tells Bitches to move and get out da way, and shake dey money maka's. How did he wind up on a track about some desperate little kid trying to get with a girl but is too insecure about his sexuality to make a move. Ludacris doesn't question his sexuality. He should be Pimpin all over the World, not cryin like a baby baby baby baby ooh. But now that Bieber has Ludacris, who knows who else will succumb to his swirling vortex of pre-pubescent dreamyness.

2. Just Bieber and all like hime are the reason for the effemination (that means making things girlier, or more like the French) of everything once cool. Example:

Need I say more?

3. He has an army.

Of all the other pop stars, only Bieber has managed to create his own army of evil Bieber minions. They look like him, they act like him, they love him, and they want him to be Grand Overlord of Earth.

Examples (a.k.a. Undeniable Proof)

Not even Velociraptors are immune to Beiber!

I know you're scared. But don't worry, we can fight this. Justin Bieber is clearly gay...or a lesbian. I'm still not sure if he's a girl or boy. But regardless the best way to fend off the impending doom is manly things. For example, having a beard. Beards and body hair are to Bieber like garlic and crosses are to Vampires (real Vampires, not the faggy Twilight ones). I don't know how to kill a Bieber, but there is some science that supports forcing them to drink Whisky, the most manly of alcohols, will cause them to dissolve. Shutting down their Twitter accounts, MySpaces, and making them wear Nike, Adidas, or any other sports oriented clothing will also work..

Use these lessons to defend yourself. Avoid his music, don't dress like him, don't get lesbian haircuts. If you listen to his music, the terrorists win.

Why I can't watch the World Cup

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 21:36:00 +0000

I kind of like soccer a little bit occasionally when something interesting happens. The World Cup is moderately interesting, so I like to keep track of whats happening and what teams do what. I have a bracket and all that fun stuff too. But I HATE WATCHING THE WORLD CUP GAMES. Within the first 15 seconds of watching the first game I started twitching uncontrollably and blacking out with rage and confusion. It was terrible.

If the boringness of soccer wasn't enough the World Cup made it more unbearable. The annoyingly accented British or Australian or whatever-European-country-thinks-they-know-every-damn-thing-about-soccer announcers make me wonder why every world cup viewer isn't foaming at the mouth slipping into a murderous rage like me. Every word that comes out of the announcer mouth makes me want to smash him over the head with a baseball bat. One announcer in the game I watched for 2 minutes said "All they have to do is do a better job of not backing off and giving the other team that space." really? You mean all they have to do is PLAY F*CKING SOCCER??? Are there times when your supposed to give the other team space for them to play better? NO THERE ARE NOT STOP SAYING STUPID THINGS AND LET ME WATCH MY MILDLY ENTERTAINING SOCCER GAME.

I think the only reason they make the announcers talk nonstop is to drown out the sound of the vuvuzelas. Those F*CKING VUVUZELAS. Whoever thought it was a good idea to make a giant plastic horn that makes that sound should die. AND IT NEVER STOPS. Soccer fans are permanantly attatched to their vuvuzelas. Constant buzzing like hornets with explosive diarrhea they're trying desperately to hold in.

My team scored? IMMA BLOW MY VUVUZELA!!

Other team scored? IMMA BLOW MY VUVUZELA!!

The ref blew his whistle? F*CK YOU REF ONLY I CAN BLOW THINGS! VUVZELLLLAAAA!

Nothing at all is happening on the field except normal play? IMMA F*CKIN BLOW MY VUVUZELA LIKE I'VE NEVER BLOWN IT BEFORE!!!

Productivity!

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 02:35:00 +0000

I have none of it! I mean look at Pete, even with his two jobs and vacations to Showertopia he has time to post a well planned and entertaining blog post. And me? Today was my first day of work. And the first day I've done anything all summer. I just can't seem to write posts. I have like 3 saved in the drafts section but I can't finish them because I'm a giant fail. I'm not good at format and big fancy posts. I just want to ramble on about stupid things and make stupid pictures of the internet!

WHY CAN'T I BE PRODUCTIVE LIKE PETE???

I asked Google why. This is what it told me:

CLICK THE PICTURE!

Just to explain, Google is the Lord of all Things and he is not too be questioned fo fear of the wrath of the Gevil (pictured top left) and the Search Bar Monster (top right) (I call him Pooky). The nameless little black and white guy was stupid for questioning Google, and probably died. I was going to draw a picture but I'm tired and that would be a little too graphic anyway.

P.S. Sorry there are no raptors in this post. I promise there are more photoshopped raptors coming soon.

Things That I Find Awesome

noreply@blogger.com (Pete) — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 22:55:00 +0000

Hey All, Pete here again. It has been about a month since I last posted anything so I figured I would step it up and write something. But, working two jobs hasn’t allowed me much time for writing. Also I procrastinated a lot, but that’s ok because it means I’m normal. That’s right, procrastinating is normal and if you don’t procrastinate and you get things done then you are weird and probably have no friends. Because no one wants to hang out with a person that has his or her life organized. It makes normal people (like me) feel uncomfortable and guilty. But I'm rambling again, anyway, here's my post.

Have you ever had a moment where something you saw or did just stuck in your head? I have, and when I see them I take a picture or write them down to remember it, partly because I have a bad memory and partly because I just think they are awesome. I’ve collected a couple recently that I wanted to share in this section I call

Things That I Find Awesome

Issue #1 Multiple Shower Head Systems

On a recent trip I took down to the lake I rented a condo to stay in. I have been going down to the lake for years and we normally choose from three “resorts” (if you can call them resorts, really they are just groups of condo buildings). Anyway this time my family and I tried something different and rented a condo from a real estate agent. Now this place was weird, and I mean weird. The best way for me to describe it to you is like this: modern style architecture with a country western decorations and a heavy touch of Jesus.

Now I have nothing against the Christian faiths or having religious materials in you house. But this place had 27 references to Jesus or God, I counted. It was only a one story condo! That includes crosses, statues, bibles, bible quotes hanging on the wall, paintings, etc. Also this place had no “rooms” the way normal people think about them. It just had these random walls that kind of separated the condo into parts. Because of this design many things were just out in the open: sinks, beds, toilets, oven, couches. It was impossible to tell where a room began and ended.

This condo did have two redeeming characteristics. The first was they had a legit mexican poncho and cowboy hats hanging on the wall. So I wore them whenever I was in the condo to blend into the theme. The second was a shower with six separate shower heads. It was incredible. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed a shower so much. The heads were arranged with two main shower heads facing opposite so their water streams crisscrossed. The other four heads were mounted on the wall at chest and stomach levels and sprayed straight out. It is probably the closest I will ever get to being able to walk through a car wash (which by the way, is something I have always wanted to do).

I was so excited about this shower that I told a lot of my friends about it. Many people thought that more than one shower head was awesome, but one “environmentally friendly” friend was not impressed.

“That’s so wasteful,” She said, “You realize that you used enough water for six showers, one for each head!”

To which I replied, “It was probably more like 12 showers, I was in there for a good 40 minutes to an hour.”

When I mentioned that I wanted another shower head for my house she got furious.

“You should get a low flow shower head, they are much better for the environment.”

So to get her to shut up I let her show me some of these low flow shower heads, and I have one thing to say about them.

Are you kidding me? These things emit a trickle of water. It would be like trying to take a shower with water out of a rain gutter when it was only drizzling outside. Screw that, I have better plans for my bathroom. I am going to get an extra 5 heads in my shower. Why? Because I find them awesome. I like stepping out of the shower feeling as if I just got power washed from 6 different angles, believe me, THAT is a clean feeling.

Raptors aren't real?

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Wed, 26 May 2010 17:48:00 +0000

And now life seems meaningless. I just don’t know what to do. Let me tell you this story from the beginning…

Today I was fueling my raptor obsession, because I have recently become addicted to Velociraptors like they are crack cocaine except even cheaper cuz I can get it for free. I spent a (un)reasonable amount of time reading about Raptor Jesus, and the eHow article on how to worship him. Yes, someone took the time to write an article about how to worship Raptor Jesus. Raptor Jesus’ followers are encourage to become Nuns, which are like Catholic Nuns, except they devote their lives to Raptor Jesus so they are Raptor Nuns, or Raptor Sisters. For the record, Raptor Sisters sound hilarious, but that’s because I picture them more like Foxy Cleopatra than Mother Theresa

Then something occurred to me, I remembered that I wrote down some kind of post idea for raptors that isn’t the one I already did. So I checked my “list of awesome post topics that one day I’ll get around to” (which is the title of the file on my computer) and right between “Things that are trying to kill me” and “Fuck wireless Internet” was “Raptors aren’t real.” I almost cried. For those of you unfamiliar with the 5 stages of grief, I’ll walk you through them in my experience.

Stage 1: Denial.

Haha, must be a typo. Raptors are soooo real I watched Jurassic Park and they were definitely there.

Stage 2: Anger

YOU LIE!!! FUCK YOU AND YOUR RAPTOR HATRED YOU ANTI RAPTOR BITCH!!!

Stage 3: Bargaining

Make raptors exist again and maybe I won’t castrate you….maybe

Stage 4: Depression

DEPRESSION IS FOR PUSSIES FUCK THAT AND FUCK YOU RAPTOR HATERS

Stage 5: Acceptance

Never.

The reason this was even on the list was that after previous awesome raptor post, Pete showed me this game where you hunt down raptors with a Jeep and a giant spike ball on a chain. It was awesome. But the raptors were…different. They were little and blue and feathery like some kind of froufy little bird. Then he told me that Velociraptors actually weren’t like they are in Jurassic Park, but were in fact tiny little pansy dinosaurs with feathers.

So I Wikipedia-d it and it told me that raptors are only 2 feet tall and could probably be beaten away with a baseball bat or a tennis racket like those big bugs from Jumanji. AND THEY HAVE FEATHERS. So why have we all been lied to for so long about how cool and badass Velociraptors are?

Wikipedia told me that too. Jurassic Park lied to us. The raptors in the movie are actually some dinosaur called Deinonychus and they just called it a Velociraptor because it sounded cooler. Well writers of Jurassic Park, I officially hate you. I have been living a lie ever since I saw your movie thinking that if I ever encountered a Velociraptor I would be destroyed when in reality as long as I bring some blunt force object I’ll probably be perfectly fine.

Want to see one of the funniest things ever to make you feel better about raptors being lame? Go here: http://sweetraptorjesus2.ytmnd.com/

What Started It All

noreply@blogger.com (Pete) — Tue, 25 May 2010 15:59:00 +0000

Hey all, Pete here. And recently Joe has been very upset with me for my lack of writing. Apparently he doesn’t understand that some people have a job or two. But to be perfectly honest I have just been procrastinating. I’ve been meaning to write this particular post for a while and now I finally have the time so hear you go. You can all stop complaining now.

This following post was written for my final in a College Writing class. We had to write a page that mirrored a blog post or a wiki article or something like that. We also had to have MLA citation and interactive text, which pretty much means its linked to Wikipedia. I chose to write a blog post on a topic of vital importance. I had so much fun writing this article that it gave me the idea to write my own blog. However, I knew that I couldn’t write it alone, I procrastinate too much. So I went in on it with Joe who is SLIGHTLY more responsible than me. So without further ado, my final for College Writing.

Oh quick side note, I got a 98 out of 100. So if you think its bad you can just go suck one.

Missouri? Ohh...

Typical Eastern College Student #1:“You’re from Missouri? Ohh…

Me: You have no idea where that is do you?

Typical Eastern College Student #1: …No

One of the unexpected consequences of going to a school that has a big eastern draw is I had to deal with the stereotypes of coming from the mid-west. For those of you that don’t know, I am from a small city outside of St. Louis called Chesterfield, Missouri. I normally just say I am from St. Louis, because it is easier and people know about St. Louis even if they can’t point to it on a map.

I was pretty surprised at the sheer number of people that do not know where Missouri is. I feel pretty confident that if you named a state I could find it on a map. I thought this was something everyone learned in third grade geography. Apparently I was wrong. I was shocked at how many students at my University did not know where each state is located. But to be fair, most easterners aren’t aware of anything west of Pennsylvania. But hey, there’s nothing important out there anyway right?

College Student #2: Oh Missouri? I have family in Minnesota. That’s close right?

Me: …sort of?

Fig. 1: A quick geography lesson for everyone

Sometimes someone will know where Missouri is, our conversations go a little something like this:

Eastern College Student #3: Missouri! I fly over that when I go to California

Me (with sarcasm): Really?! Wow, we have so much in common!

What is even more entertaining than someone who can’t find Missouri on a map, is someone who knows nothing about the state and has to resort to using stereotypes.

“But Pete,” you’re asking, “aren’t all stereotypes based on some sort of fact?”

Yes, avid reader, you would be correct. However, I don’t think anyone has bothered to update the Missouri stereotypes since the 1800’s. All things considered, Missouri really hasn’t done anything exciting to deserve a new stereotype. The fact remains, the only information some people have about my state is a book (or two) they read in school, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Yes, the most popular stereotype about Missouri originated in 1876 and 1885, respectively. The books were supposed to be based in the 1830’s as well. That means this stereotype is anywhere from 125-180 years old.

Most people think that the average Missourian (Missouriite?) wears overalls, floppy straw hats, and no shoes. We all dream about being a steamboat captain. In our free time we enjoy: building rafts and floating down rivers with recently escaped slaves, distilling our own whiskey, and tricking our friends into whitewashing fences for us.

Fig 2: Thanks Mark Twain, good work showing us in a positive light.

But it's really not fair to blame him, I doubt he thought the stereotypes he created would last over 125 years.

Sometimes instead of Tom Sawyer people get the image of a corn farmer. It is true that corn is a big agricultural export from Missouri but it is far from our largest export. Also, most of the corn farms are to the north and west of Chesterfield. The corn farmer stereotype then raises another stereotype that because I live on a corn farm I must be uneducated and unworldly. Ok this is just embarrassing, keep in mind that the people calling me “unworldly” can’t locate Missouri on a map.

College Student #4: "So do you like, live on a farm or something?"

Me (with a heavy dose of sarcasm): "Ya I do. Ma and Pa always want me to come back from school early so I can help with the harvest."

Fig. 3 & 4: Top: a picture of me in my backyard. Bottom: What people think is a picture of me in my back yard

So here is a quick, stereotype-bashing lesson for all of you who know nothing about where I live. Fun fact #1 Chesterfield is actually considered a well-to-do suburban city. Fun fact #2, the number one agricultural product of Missouri is not corn it is, in fact, soybeans. Other major industries in the state include, but are not limited to: aerospace (Boeing, formerly McDonnell Douglas), transportation equipment, lead mining, chemicals, wine, and beer (Anheuser-Busch’s headquarters is in St. Louis). No one rides in steamboats anymore, we don't wear overalls, and the Mississippi river is WAY too dangerous to raft on. I don't live on a farm, I live in a typical suburban neighborhood. My house is on less than an acre of land. In my yard we grow grass, not corn.

Ok so clearly I am not the only person to ever be stereotyped. I want to know, if you have every had some ridiculous stereotype thrust onto you let me know, leave a comment.

Wireless Internet Isn't Cool

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Tue, 18 May 2010 03:47:00 +0000

Because i grew up in the 90s, I've been around just long enough to be older than the internet but not old enough to appreciate it. The internet is not to be appreciated anyway, it is fickle and pissy. i can still remember when the internet first entered my house through the phone jack. I didn't understand what it was because my little brain could not comprehend an electronic world that only existed in wires and big scary looking machines and was actually only made of numbers. I STILL don't understand that. It doesn't really make sense, but I don't have to understand how it works, all I know is it does and I can use it.

Back then, it worked slowly but it's all I knew so it was ok. I was unaware of the speed it was capable of so I waited excitedly for things to load like it was a game. What would come first: the picture I was going to look at or my attention span breaking. Usually I would wind up being distracted by a squirrel outside the window or the TV or some dust blowing by…it didn't take much. But the point is eventually it loaded every time. The internet used to be reliable!

Then they made wireless internet, and they were all like "Hey, you can get on the internet anywhere within the 20 inch radius it gives you!" And we were all impressed even though it didn't make much of a different because they hadn't made a practically priced laptop at that point anyway so no one needed to move around. But our simple minds were all atwitter over the possibility.

Well you know what I say? The internet people are liars! Wireless internet sucks. But those sneaky little internet peoples got all up in our faces with it and now there is nothing but wireless internet. Everywhere I go, the internet is wireless! I don't even know where it comes from anymore, its just floating around in the air cooking our brains like a giant microwave (probably not true, don't be scared. But be cautious, it's only probably not true). The problem with wireless internet is that it likes to stop working occasionally, usually at the moments when it is most important that I use it. Even when the little internet symbol in the top corner of my MacBook tells me I am connected with perfect reception it'll still go all "You're computer is not connected to the internet." To which I respond "NO. I am connected to you internet. Don't try to hide behind failed loading screens trying to blame my poor computer for your deviance. I know. You're just trying to fuck with me!"

(click and it's bigger!)

And at that point I usually have some sort of nervous break down and wind up rocking back and forth in a dark corner muttering something about cheesecake and drooling a little…it happens. And if I ever go find someone and tell them the internet is trying to make me jump out my window they'll go to the computer and it works. Like nothing ever happens and my friend will look at me like I'm crazy. Wireless internet is trying to kill me, slowly and painfully. But if you noticed in the picture, I am not quietly enduring this attack on my sanity, oh no. I am assembling an army of internet-infiltrating super gnomes which I will use to overthrow the system. You will not win interwebs!!!!!!

IRONY. When I tried to post this, my wireless stopped working! I will not submit to you internet! FEAR MY GNOME ARMY!!!!!!!!11onetwo

3 posts in less than 24 hours? Are they insane?

noreply@blogger.com (Pete) — Fri, 14 May 2010 02:46:00 +0000

It's possible. Actually it's probably pretty likely. Anyway I'm Pete and I didn't want Joe to have all the fun on this blog on the first day so here's my 2 cents.

You know what. I really have nothing important to say, so here is something completely unrelated

StumbleUpon is slowing killing me from the inside out. At first it seemed like a blessing. Finally some that randomly generates cool stuff on the internet that is more interesting than "random article" on Wikipedia. Although it seemed like innocent fun at first, I soon found myself falling into addiction.

I couldn't stop, I just kept pushing the stumble button. I lost interest in the world around me. Nothing seemed as great as the oddities of the Internet. I had become completely dependent on StumbleUpon. I pushed away schoolwork, then friends, then family. I was trapped in my own world of the most entertaining things on the Internet. Then, all the sudden, a screen pop-up asking me to create and account and wouldn't let me stumble anymore.

I had fallen for it. StumbleUpon was like a crack dealer. They gave me a taste then took it away. The first time is always free, then they have you hooked. I couldn't hold out any longer. I broke down and created a account. It was a shameful time for me. It was only when my friends had an intervention with me that I discovered the error of my ways.

My name is Pete and I have StumbleUpon free for 4 days

UPDATE: Ya, no, make that StumbleUpon free for 0 days

The Raptor has Judged You

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Thu, 13 May 2010 23:58:00 +0000

Finals. They start today. Finals make me crazy. Like seriously, I can't handle that. Finals make me crazy to the point where I'd rather slowly melt my brain with a candle until it oozes out my ears and then make jello with it so I can sit and cry in a dark corner and paint incoherent messages on the wall with brain-flavored gelatin. I picture it a pinkish orange color. Like a salmon, or a coral. Anyway the point is I'm psychotic and may not make it till friday.

The main reason for this is Astronomy. Usually, I enjoy Astronomy because it's like being in third grade again only now I understand advanced concepts about time and space a 10 year old's brain can't comprehend. But now that the semester is over, it's really hard because they're going to test me on how well they crammed all their useless space-knowledge into my head. They didn't do a good job. All I think about as i study for this exam is how useless it all is. When will I EVER need to know how a black hole destroys things? It's by Spaghettification, by the way. Yes that is a word. Spell check doesn't recognize it, but it's real. It's when gravity is so strong it rips you in half, then rips those halves in half, and keeps doing that until you're just gone forever. It also keeps squeezing you smaller too. So it's like spaghetti…astronomers are really creative I know.

And I also would like to know why on earth the history of astronomy is relevant to my life. I have to memorize all these Greek philosophers and all the things they thought about space. And they were all wrong too. Which is dumb. To test my theory of will-I-ever-need-to-know-this-ever-in-my-life-after-I-take-this-final I asked my sister if she knew any of it.

Me: "Do you know which astronomer decided that everything in the sky moves around on crystal balls around the earth?"

Sister: "Are there choices? I would know if there were choices."

Lies.

Me: "Your choices are:

Plato

Eudoxes

and a Velociraptor

Sister: "Velociraptor." She thinks she's funny.

Me: "Sorry, you lose. It was obvious really. Everyone knows Velociraptors hunt in packs so a single velociraptor would never make an astronomical assumption on its own. Haven't you seen Jurrasic Park?"

The point is, No one cares about failed predictions of some old greek people. And because of that conversation I have spent the rest of my day completely distracted with the thoughts of Velociraptors. Apparently, raptors are highly judgmental of our actions. Here's an artists rendering of the moral of this post:

So read about our lives

noreply@blogger.com (Joe) — Thu, 13 May 2010 19:45:00 +0000

Oh look, there's a blog here! Which is fun. For me anyway, I guess it could be fun for you too if you're into that kind of stuff. But you're here now, so you are required to enjoy it.

ANYWAY. Welcome to "Joe and Pete are Interesting, so you should read about our lives" the blog of infinite awesomeness. Starting today, you will need no other source of entertainment than reading whatever I (Joe) or Pete post. Because we're interesting. And possibly funny. Definitely entertaining...to ourselves. So congratulations on finding it! You'll save a lot of money now that you don't have to pay to distract yourself with other things like movies, or Cable tv, or iPads, or...other expensive entertain-y things. Because we're free! And everyone likes free things. And if you don't like free things well then you're just un-American. And of course I'll accept payments for reading our blog if you have some strange aversion to doing things for free, I'm very accommodating.