Instead of Work

One Year in the Books

2011-10-30T18:35:00.000-07:00

So I've been at this for a year now. As there are probably more blogs than people, this makes me not special whatsoever. Still, after all my stupid articles, some of you are still reading (I assume), and I appreciate that. I'm normally not one to blow myself, but upon reflection, here are some of my favorites:

The Heart Attack Grill

I took a look at this infamous restaurant's policies and practices, and offered some unsolicited new slogans.

The Microdyne Days

I reminisced about a shitty job I had back in college. I talked about how it began, the crazy people I dealt with, and some things I learned along the way.

Grocery Shopping: I Hate It

Despite the fact that I should be thankful for having such an abundance of food a few blocks away, I was an asshole and chose to complain about it for trivial reasons instead, so hopefully it's at least a little funny.

Oatmeal: Pointless

I enjoy oatmeal at least a couple times a week, but for some reason decided to shit all over it because of its boringness.

The Formative Years

Because of how handsome/successful/stylish I am these days, you may have a hard time believing how fucking stupid I looked back in my younger years. Either that, or you look at how fucking stupid I look now, and upon reading this think "well that makes sense."

The Platypus, Why?

What a stupid piece of shit waste of a fucking animal. This article goes a bit more in depth than that, but that's the basic idea.

The Horror of Bengay

Apparently putting bengay on your balls is kind of a thing on the internet, but before any of my friends or I knew about that, we all tried it with hilarious/horrifying consequences.

More Public Transit Gripes

Here's one article from my series of complaints about dealing with public transit. Obviously I'm grateful that it exists and life would be a huge pain in the ass without it, but that doesn't mean I can't still talk shit.

Some Things I've Figured Out

Here's a list I wrote that will convince some of you out there that don't know me very well that I am slowly but surely becoming an adult. Don't be fooled though, watch: LOL FART!

Let's Talk About BREAKFAST CEREAL!

Here's a completely random article that illustrates how sometimes I can take a silly idea and run with it, often turning what was once a mere pointless observation into a big long pointless article. But again, hopefully at least a little funny.

Journey to England Part I

Here's what kicked off my so far 10 part series about my trip to England and parts of Europe. I should probably getting around to finishing that..

So, there you have it. It might be fairly clear that writing is not my main thing, but I hope you're all enjoying the articles. If you haven't read some of these, enjoy and read some more!

LOL FART AGAIN.

Continuing Internet Vigilantism

2011-10-18T11:36:00.000-07:00

Remember how before, I wrote about "facts" on the internet, and researched them to see if they were true? Well I'm gonna do that again.

Vigilante Dog

Nobody Knows who Invented Eyeglasses
Hmm, that doesn't seem right. We know who invented the cotton gin, and nobody gives a fuck about that anymore, so how can we not know who invented glasses? I know If I invented something that awesome I'd tell everyone immediately.

Well actually, I bet that was the plan for the guy who invented them all along. He tried them out for the first time and thought "holy shit these work" and was so excited about finally doing something not useless that he had a heart attack and died. And by the time he was found he was just a skeleton holding a mysterious new invention. I picture two people stumbling upon his corpse:

"Whoa, what's this scary skeleton holding? Whoa coole, do you suppose this guy invented these things?"

"Yeah probably, who is he?"

"I dunno man it's just a skeleton. Skeletons all look alike."

"Ok, maybe he's holding a note with his name on it?"

"Well even if he was how would we knowe it's not someone else's name?"

"Shit. Wait, how do we know it's not a lady skeleton?"

"Good pointe. How can you telle?"

"I dunno check the relative width of their shoulders and hips or something."

And then they continued with their anatomy discussion and fuck if they every figured out who the person actually was.

So is this "fact" just bullshit or do we really not know?

Well, according to wikipedia, I think we've got it narrowed down far enough so that's good enough for me, let's move on.

Oh and I couldn't find a suitable picture for any of this crap, so here's a bunny in midair.

Humans Swallow 7/8/75 Spiders in a Year/Lifetime
Ohhh boy, we've all heard this one before. Apparently the only reason we aren't covered in spiders all the time is because we move around? Like as soon as we fall asleep they come out of their hiding spots and say "let's go in that dude's mouth, and after it's pretty clear that we shouldn't be there let's get swallowed somehow instead of just crawling back out." Hmm, I dunno about that, and here's why:

First, like I've just illustrated, it seems like it's against a creature's best interest to crawl into the mouth of a sleeping giant that will kill them.

Second, who's gathering this data? Did some dude wake up with a spider in his mouth one morning and think "well fuck me that probably happens 7 or 8 times a year!" If you think about it, the nature of this fact implies we're swallowing the evidence, which means the only way to verify it would be to videotape someone's mouth while they sleep every night for however long it takes for a spider to crawl in there.

And finally, if it's based in fact, why does the amount vary so much 7? 20? 75? Every year? A lifetime? But hey I'll play devil's advocate and admit that I guess you can't rule out the possibility, because bugs can do some weird shit.

Well, with astoundingly little effort, you'll find the myth debunked here, here, and here and probably a million other places. Seriously, all you have to do is type "do we swallow spiders in our sleep" into google and you'll be flooded with sites screaming "no shithead"

So there you go. If I hear anyone else repeat this fact, go ahead and climb aboard the train to punch-town, next stop your face.

Some Beaver Dams are over 1000 Years Old.
Whoa. That's older than your mom. Who the hell figured this out? And how the fuck did they figure it out? And who the fuck cares? Did a guy watch a beaver damn get built, then when he was about to die he was all "wait, I gotta get someone to find out how long this thing hangs around" and so he told his son "hey man keep track of this" and so forth for generations? On top of that: even if you knew the age of the wood, how do you know how long the wood has been arranged into a beaver dam? Except for almost your mom, nobody is old enough to know this for sure right?

Well when doing my research, I stumbled across the following and kind of got distracted because it's god damn hilarious:

Apparently we've all been looking in the wrong place.

So instead of researching further I'll just assume they figured stuff out using some sciency combination of technology and and databases. They probably carried the one at some point too.

The Creature with the Biggest Brain in Proportion to its Size is the Ant
Yeah? Well they still seem pretty fucking dumb to me.

The Man that Took a Poo, and Almost Killed us All

2011-10-09T12:38:00.000-07:00

I was listening to a podcast recently, where guys were talking about eating hot food and subsequently almost shitting themselves, and I got to thinking about poo stories, because I'm mature. One experience in particular sprang to mind after years of dormancy. I shared this experience with several of you out there, so let's take a trip down memory lane.

And to those of you who haven't heard this story, enjoy.

It was the high school senior trip, late spring of 2003 (Yup, I'm old). We took a few buses to York Beach, Maine. These weren't regular school buses, they were fancy "coaches" if you will. You know, the kind with toilets in the back. That will become important later.

So, we all mucked around the beach and pier that day, doing some swimming, frisbee, checking out random stores and arcades, just hanging out having a good time. After exploring, the plan was for everybody to meet for lunch at the Goldenrod restaurant at a designated time. Yum! And instead of forcing us to pay for our lunches, the school graciously gave every last one of us a $20 meal voucher.

Now, you might expect $20 to not get us very far. Perhaps it would pay for a sandwich and a drink, but if we wanted to get anything fancy, we might have to dip into our own pockets. Not so. Not even fucking close.

Whoever was in charge of securing lunch funds must have not bothered to check the Goldenrod's menu ahead of time, foolishly having the same suspicions about the cost of a meal that I just highlighted above. Well, they certainly fucked that one up, because the staples of this menu included basic things like hot dogs, hamburgers, and grilled cheese at the un-fucking-believable prices of $2 $3 and $4. Some people were fine with ordering one or two things, content to just forfeit the rest of their voucher in an attempt to not get utterly fucking stuffed and feel like shit for the rest of the day. Not my friends and I! We were ready to take advantage, and stretch that $20 to the fullest extent of the law.

Spectators likely watched in horror as everyone at our table started wolfing down three or four hot dogs each. Some of us also added a burger or two, or scavenged other's plates for fries or half of a grilled cheese. After eating far more than any humans ever should, we realized we all still had a few dollars left on our vouchers, and we'd be damned if we were to let that go to waste. So we got ice cream.

Must eat.....FOREVER...

Little did we know, somewhere in probably a dark corner, a teacher with a digestive problem was also taking full advantage.

So finally, the gluttony ended. I've never needed to be escorted from a restaurant in a wheelchair quite as badly as I did that day. We were all miserably full, and instead of going back to having fun, we all collapsed on a pile of rocks near the beach in agony, calmed by the thought that soon our burden would be slightly lessened after what was sure to be a series of truly unforgettable dumps. After a period of time, one of us finally broke the silence and said "alright, that's it, who wants to come shit with me?"

And unforgettable it was. But the story does not end there.

We all piled back onto the bus, straight to the back near the toilet just in case any of us felt an encore performance coming on. Well, thankfully it didn't come to that...

For us...

So at this point we were all deep in the midst of our food comas, and probably about 90 minutes or so had elapsed since we left the restaurant. Well apparently, for the entirety of that 90 minutes, the teacher with digestive problems was becoming a vehicle for a foul hellish beast, soon to be furiously unleashed upon our poor unsuspecting bus.

This guy, who shall remain anonymous, was normally a fairly slow mover. Not today. We all saw him arise from the front of the bus and lumber through the aisle with a haste that clearly communicated to everyone that this was a fucking EMERGENCY.

Now, at this point all of us in the back knew that we were in for some unpleasantness, but I don't think any of us were able to fathom just how truly awful it was to become.

A ghastly silence came over us. For several seconds, it seemed as if maybe the door to the bathroom was in fact enough of a barrier to mitigate the stench to tolerable levels. Fucking, nope. SO WRONG. JESUS CHRIST I CAN TASTE IT.

I cannot put into words how awful the stench was, but I'll try: Imagine if you were to compress all the shits anyone has ever taken in the history of earth into a box, then added garlic.

Some of the jokes thrown around I remember to this day:

"Oh god I can smell it when I exhale."
"He must've eaten rotting corpses for lunch."
"This my friends, is the intestinal holocaust."

And the worst part was just how long we had to endure the awfulness. What we assumed was an initial burst of utter digestive failure that would slowly depreciate in repugnancy, was actually an ungodly force that seemed to gather strength from the objects around it. None of us could breathe. We would take turns testing the air one at a time, and for what must've been 15 minutes, there was no relief. People halfway up the bus were turning their heads in horror, only to see the dozen or so of us at ground zero with tears in our eyes. It was utterly fucking mind-blowing to us all that one person was capable of such a tragedy.

He finally exited the stall and did the walk of shame back to the front of the bus, no doubt knowing that he had just achieved the dump that would soon leave the air, but never leave our minds.

Weird or Crazy Work Shit

2011-09-18T13:40:00.001-07:00

I haven't posted anything in awhile, mostly because I was in Maine for the summer. Well, no I guess that's not it. It's not like they don't have computers in Maine. I guess I didn't post for awhile because, I dunno, shut up. Anyway, I figured I'd bust back onto the scene with a few stories about weird shit I've seen at various jobs over the years.

Guy Tries to Use a Fake ID, gets Piledrived.
...Piledriven?

Well here's what happened. This suave looking motherfucker strutted into Tekserve one day while I was working up front. He told me he wanted to buy a computer. I signed him up for an appointment and then doot do do, off he went with a salesman. Several minutes later, he was pacing around the front of the store and asked me if I've seen the salesman he was talking to, because he was "taking awhile getting his computer". I checked it out, and it turned out the customer was using a fake ID. At Tekserve, we're wicked fucking awesome at spotting that shit so little did he know, when he thought he was waiting for his computer, he was really waiting for the police to arrive.

A bit more time passed, and the brilliant rocket scientist of a thief put the puzzle together in his head and realized "they still have my ID. Hmm, don't people usually not need to keep that?" So he casually tried to exit. The security guard was all

So he tried to play it cool.

And by play it cool I mean "leap over a wall past the guard but fall and then get smashed into the door when trying to stand back up and escape."

So broken glass everywhere, customers panicking, police arriving, and an attempted thief getting his ass thrown to the ground and cuffed.

So remember kids, make sure the dude making your fake ID knows what he's doing!

Woman Almost has Heart Attack
The day started like any other day. I was wandering around trying to look helpful while not necessarily being helpful, and I got approached by a slightly older woman. She had complicated questions about how to properly sync her ipad and blah blah blah. It was early, so I wasn't quite in the "I want to get the fuck out of here" mode yet, so I actually try to explain how the process worked even though I could've easily sent her off to the department that more directly deals with that.

I quickly realized it was going to be an uphill battle because I foolishly assumed she knew what things like "files" and "computers" were. At one point, it seemed like we were making some headway, when she stopped and said "Ok, just give me a second, I just need to..." and she trailed off, closed her eyes and stood there silently.

Interesting..

I Assumed she just had a weird way of learning things and needed to silently contemplate everything I'd just said to fully absorb it, so I waited patiently. Shortly thereafter she rejoined planet earth and said

"I have a heart condition, my heart was doing some weird things just then so I needed to make sure everything was ok."

Unexpected.

I had never really thought about what I'd say in the event someone randomly divulged a serious medical problem, so I just said "um...are you alright?" to which she replied "I think so."

See, I was really hoping for a "yes" there, so then I had to start wondering if I was going to need to call 911 pretty soon. She told me she had medication, and since I wasn't really prepared to see anyone die, I almost blurted out "ok well then take some of that shit".

That makes sense right? Why wait until your heart actually stops to take the medication? Well, thankfully she carried on fairly heart-attack free from that point on. The only other oddity was that at one point, her eyes started to tear up. Now, I'm not a doctor, but I'm pretty sure eyes water for reasons mostly unrelated to heart failure, so I relaxed a bit.

She lived. And eventually, I passed her ipad problems on to someone else because fuck that shit I was mostly making stuff up anyway.

Find Out Boss Also Films Porn in Office

So I had been working at this...music place we'll call it, for a little while. It was mostly with people my own age so it was a decent environment. The boss however was a german dude at least fifteen years older than all of us. He seemed nice enough, but I suspected there were some stories about him, and I had wondered for a little while how all the coworkers felt about him. Well after talking with a few of them, it came to my attention that the boss also occasionally filmed porn in this room behind his office.

Not his office.

Whaaaaattttt?

I thought maybe it was a joke, but no it most certainly wasn't. Not only did that perpetuate some stereotypes, it was fucking gross and weirded me out. But it didn't seem to bother anybody else, and it was pretty fun to joke about so fuck it. I guess it wasn't really any of my business what he did on his own time anyway.

Then one day he sent me and another guy to take his car and go pick up a mattress for his office. It was very uncomfortable helping transport that mattress, knowing full well what it was going to be used for. It occurred to me that the boss was now in a way making it everyone else's business what he used that alcove behind his office for. I quit shortly thereafter.

Guy Walks Around with Shit on Pants
This was from years ago while working at a scrap metal yard in Maine. A guy with shit on his pants you say? In a scrap yard you also say? Yes, I say.

So yeah, it immediately makes more sense when you know the context. It wasn't like I was in an office building and someone walked by with shit on their suit.

"Whoops. Had a bit of an accident.."

So this scrap yard job mostly involved local folks coming to drop off pickup trucks or trailers full of old scrap metal for us to weigh and sort so they could get a bunch of extra cash. I saw my fair share of unintelligible trailer trash, but I'd say most of the folks were just everyday people.

But, like I just said, some of these people were all kinds of fucked up. They communicated in vague gestures and grunts, were missing teeth and were usually shirtless. One thing they basically all were however, was shitless. It makes sense, because you tend to learn pretty early on in life that walking around with shit on yourself is pretty unacceptable. Well this one diamond in the rough either never learned that lesson, or just didn't give a fuck about anything. He was a heavy set man probably in his 30s, with a gut hanging down over his elastic waistband cutoff gray sweatpants. I noticed a couple of my friends stifling some laughter in front of this guy, and I had just assumed it was because he was a big funny looking fucking gross dude. Then the man turned, and my friends pointed out his problem.

Lovely.

HOW DO YOU NOT NOTICE A BIG BROWN STAIN ON YOUR SHORTS?

Or maybe he knew it was there and thought "well, I'm not exactly trying to keep up appearances with anyone so instead of changing my shorts I'll just walk around WITH SHIT ON THEM ALL DAY. YES THAT SOUNDS RIGHT. I COME UP WITH BRILLIANT SOLUTIONS."

More "FACTS"

2011-05-31T16:20:00.000-07:00

Once again, in the interest of internet vigilantism, and avoiding productivity, I have found more supposed "facts" and looked beyond. What treasures of knowledge did I find? ARE THESE REALLY TRUE? YOU GUYS WON'T BELIEVE THIS SHIT! FUUCK!

People in China Don't Eat Cheese
Whaaaat? I found this especially hard to believe because of how much cheese I eat. Seriously, this is what my food pyramid looks like:

As you can see, I couldn't imagine living without such a large staple of my diet.

So as I've done previously, before I research whether or not this profound statement is true, let's look at the implications of a cheese-less society.

First off, no pizza.

I can't imagine living somewhere where there aren't countless pizza franchises, all claiming to be the best. Let's see what else...no macaroni and cheese! So what's the backup plan for dinner when kids refuse to eat shit like brussels sprouts? Also, Chinese people must be a lot less constipated. So is it true?

Well it turns out there's some truth to this. Chinese culture went without any cow by-products for quite awhile, so the gene for lactose intolerance wasn't necessarily bred out of them. So nowadays, even though cheese is much more readily available in a globalized economy, I guess some Chinese people are like old grandparents sitting on their rocking chairs on their porches talking about how "back in my day, we didn't need cheese, and GOD DAMMIT WE STILL DON'T!"

But come on, all of China? Not possible. This fact needs a lot of footnotes. As you might imagine, while Chinese culture has a lot less cheese, plenty of them still fucking eat it because it god damn rules.

The Waiting List for an Apartment in Poland is 20 Years
Once again, whaaattt? When I first read this I thought it was referring to just renting an apartment. A funny scenario sprung to mind wherein as soon as a child was born the parents immediately thought "Oh FUCK, if he wants someplace to live at college in 20 years we've gotta get him on the list fucking quick!!" Then they irresponsibly dash out of the hospital and drive to the building with the apartment list so they can write down their names and secure their baby's future. Haha, why didn't just one of them go so the other could stay at the hospital? Crazy Polish people.

But then I realized it would only make sense with regard to buying an apartment. Still though, 20 years? Why don't they just build more apartments?

Holy shit you guys we can fucking make more of these!

(I think that dude is about to get hit by that cement truck.)

Anyways, doesn't that statistic seem a bit outrageous? So I looked into it and this site talks about the late eighties being a time where the waiting list was about 15 years. I don't feel like researching too deeply into Polish history to find out why the waiting list supposedly hasn't gotten shorter, cause I've had a few beers and fuck that.

I did find plenty of real estate listings for apartments in Poland though, and failed to notice any fine print about possibly dying of old age before you own one.

The First Hearing Aids were Too Large to be Worn

Well what fucking good were they then? Suppose someone's walking through town, not hearing shit, when suddenly someone appears to say something interesting. Maybe something like "you look like a man that can hear pretty well." So the fellow with the hearing problem says, "follow me back to my office, then wait a bit while I hook up this contraption, then tell me again." Man, that dude should've just brought a pad of paper around with him.

Seriously though, were the first hearing aids only for home use? Or does "too large to be worn" mean they were portable, just not hands free? I need some fucking answers.

Apparently the first electronic hearing aids were the size of a desk radio and "large and unwieldy". I suppose you could still carry it around with you though. Maybe you could push it around on a little cart, and then when someone speaks you shout at them, "NO! Say it into this little box!"

I'm assuming that's how they worked anyway. I dunno, I kinda stopped reading.

Bats Always Turn Left when Exiting a Cave
I've been hearing this for years and always smelled bullshit. Allow me to demonstrate why. Here is a bat cave:

Whoops, sorry. Here is a bat cave:

Now suppose I took on a little construction project and...

Now I bet those bats learn to stop turning left pretty quickly.

I researched further and found out it certainly was bullshit. Plenty of sites talked about the moon or some other dumb thing affecting the bat's inner navigational systems, but then plenty more sites said the people on those first sites were fucking idiots. Say you always turn towards the moon, left will still be different depending on if the cave faces north or south. Or what if there's just a wall on the left side of entrance, what are they gonna do, fly into it and die? Pff.

I was shocked to learn that the internet had told yet another lie, but after a cold shower I've come to grips with it.

Wait, bats turning left out of a cave...

I'll be damned.

Papers Are Worse Than Dog Shit

2011-05-23T15:38:00.000-07:00

We all get excited when we finish something difficult. We think to ourselves, "finally, the last time I'll ever have to do that!" For me, this feeling has accompanied big papers...about eight million times.

It started in my senior year of high school when English culminated in a giant paper and presentation. Knowing I was going off to college for a major that was very much not English, I thought "Ahh, my last big paper!"

Well if you've been reading my blog for awhile you'll have noticed a recurring theme which I have once again illustrated for you: I'm a fucking idiot.

Here's Some More!
I immediately realized the graveness of my error when I became familiar with gen. ed. credits. Noticing a lot of science and history courses thrown in there I thought to myself, "Oh god.." Sure enough, the very first class I went to in college included two small papers and one large one.

After that semester was over I thought. "Well, I don't have to take any more history classes, so this time I think I really am done with papers!" I was a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.

I looked over the gen. ed. requirements some more and realized I needed to take English credits. Not only was I not done with papers, I wasn't even done with English. I was fairly certain I already knew how to speak the language pretty well, but begrudgingly signed up for the ol' English 101 anyway.

Not to be confused.

We were quickly told by probably the oldest teacher on the planet that there were to be five papers completed over the course of the semester. GOOD. FUCKING PILE THEM ON. After checking through some old mythology books, curious as to what ancient deities I had pissed off to deserve such treatment, I got to work on the readings and papers. What were we reading? Books about jury duty. Because if you take the most boring task in the world, writing papers, and combine it with the most boring subject in the world, you get something exciting right?! YES. LET'S WRITE ABOUT JURY DUTY. AWESOME. PARDON ME WHILE I SHIT INTO MY OWN MOUTH. Here are some topics I would've preferred to write about:

The Story of the Dude that Sat in a Room for a Few Days

Reading Books Backwards. More or Less Fun?

Taste Testing Piles of Shit in Various States of Decomposition.

The History of Assessing the Reliability of 9/16" Bolts Vs 1/2" Bolts with Regard to their Use in Car Batteries that are Used For Display Purposes Only in Museums that Nobody Goes To

So I read the books and did the utterly boring papers, one of which I actually typed in the hour I had between classes. You can imagine how that one turned out. I affectionately titled these five papers the following way:

So after I finished my favorite class in the whole entire world ever, I wised up and only briefly and half-heartedly entertained the idea that I had just completed my final paper. I knew I was in for one more English class in the category of "Writing Intensive."

A Bit of Hope
The class I ended up taking, Foundations of Literary Analysis actually, get ready...

made English kind of fun!

How could this be? Well, it turns out if you combine a brilliant and engaging teacher with straightforward expectations, with someone like me who was actually learning to grow the fuck up a little bit, some college classes can actually be rewarding. If any of you out there are attending the University of Maine and Steve Evans is still teaching, I highly recommend taking one of his classes.

Still though, we had to write a bunch of papers.

Although the papers were on more interesting topics, and encouraged and rewarded critical thinking, they were still big stupid dumb papers and I hated them. But hey, once those were over, surely I was finished with papers this time! I was a music major. We didn't need to write about shit!

Fucking, Yes We Did
Music history classes involved papers. Advanced theory classes involved papers. I ended up taking a philosophy class for an elective, and had to write more papers. It just never ended. And now that I was somewhat of a responsible adult, I couldn't help but try to do well on these papers, and that just ended up causing frustration when I neared the end. Rather than close the paper on some half-assed conclusion that didn't flow well with the rest of the paper, I actually tried to think things through and make sure the papers existed as some sort of cohesive unit. They usually needed lots more revising. This took time and energy, and made me angry.

Now I'm a graduate student, where basically every class is taught seminar style, so grades are based on discussion, and you guessed it, papers. Usually one giant one at the end of the semester. No more 5-10 page assignments. No, now it has become

1. Choose a topic that kind of relates to the class.

2. Write every single fucking thing about it you can possibly think of.

So now I'm going to break down my paper writing process for you.

Step 1: Outline.
To write any good paper, it is generally a good idea to make an outline from which to draw. That way, you'll see how the points relate to one another, and recognize any redundancies in your thought process. This should help you avoid writing yourself into a hole later.

Step 2: Fuck Step 1.
I usually skip the outline bit. What a god damned waste of time.

Step 3: I Shouldn't Have Skipped Step 1.
I'll usually realize what a mistake it was to skip the outline fairly quickly. So alongside my paper I'll end up doing a half outline. Every time I think of some way to relate certain points to others, I'll quickly right them down in notepad or something before I forget. In the interest of time, I'll write an abbreviated note to myself with the intention of going back to it later.

Step 4: What The Fuck Do All These Notes Mean?
It turns out my little notes were a little too abbreviated. I'll have no idea what to make of phrases like "Remember connectivity" or "Differences in experience", so I just keep plugging away.

Step 5: Cruise For A Bit.
Usually after a page or two I've got a pretty good idea about where I'm going with this paper and I can bang out a couple of more pages pretty quickly.

Step 6: What Have I Done?
After the cruising portion, I'm maybe six pages into a ten page paper and hit a wall so thick it's probably responsible for the loss of most cell phone reception in the Northern Hemisphere. I have no idea how to stretch my points any further and end up taking a break for awhile.

Step 7: Get Drunk.
Fuckin' might as well.

Step 8: Back To The Grind.
I was so proud of myself for getting so far when I started typing, that I probably got cocky and let several days pass, and now the paper is due in less than twelve hours. Desperation tends to breed creativity in my mind, so I start making wild ass points and cover up their utter lack of relevance using sound rhetoric I've developed over the years.

Step 9: The Thesaurus Is Your Friend.
My sound rhetoric I've just mentioned can only get me so far, so now I need to start using big words to throw the professors off. By now I'm pretty burnt out so I'll often stop mid sentence, recognize the opportunity for the perfect word, and fuck me if I can ever remember what that word is. Even with the thesaurus it will probably take several minutes and a bit of luck to find the word that "sounds right, but I don't think it was the one I was looking for, oh well. FUCK IT."

Step 10: Home Stretch.
After a couple more hours of slogging through the mud it's time for the concluding paragraph. This part is easy. Just remember your main points and try to combine them all into one sentence. Repeat yourself unnecessarily a few more times and hope that by then you've got a sizable block of text that is valued more for how much space it takes up than for its actual content.

Step 11: Proofread.
Haha, just kidding.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MOM!

2011-05-08T10:47:00.000-07:00

I'm sure all of you out there are thinking "my Mom is the better than yours". And hey, so am I! The only difference is that with my Mom, it's true.

Here she is back in the day being way more awesome than your mom ever was.

And here she is continuing that trend, despite having to put up with these two assholes:

for the last couple of decades. How does she do it while continuing to be the most warm, friendly and loving person on the earth? The mystery may never be solved.

She has truly been there for me through it all, and deserves a second separate mother's day six months from now. I trust you will all observe it.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Flow Chart

2011-05-04T09:36:00.000-07:00

This and That

2011-04-27T08:42:00.000-07:00

Here's some random shit I bothered to write down.

What's with the saying "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy's dog"?
Well of fucking course you wouldn't. What does the dog have to do with anything? Just because the dog is in close proximity to your enemy doesn't mean shitty traits are rubbing off on the dog. Anyone that hates a person so much that even their dog's misfortune is enough to make them think "Close enough!" is a fucking shitty person.

You'll have to do.

Mystery Hair
Occasionally we'll all notice a stray hair on our clothes or something. Sometimes this hair is much longer than any of our own, so we'll wonder, where did it come from?

"I'm around chicks so much it's only natural for some of their hair to end up on my clothes" - Douchebag.

"This could actually be from a dude with long hair...no it's probably from a hot chick" - Slightly more rational douchebag.

"Did someone put this here on purpose?" - Paranoid asshole.

"This smells really good." - Creep.

"I'm going to include this in a blog post." - Loser.

I wonder when I'll drive a car again.

I don't own a car anymore, and I don't need one where I live, so here's how I imagine the next time I get behind the wheel:

Dear people behind the announcers at sporting events that suddenly realize they're on TV:
Fuck you. Can't you just sit still? If you have to be an attention craving asshole, at least do something creative, don't just wave incessantly for five minutes. I'm sure one or two people watching are saying "oh look it's Dave!" but most are probably thinking "Fuck that guy and his goofy grin."

Why are there two locked doors in the entrances of some buildings?
Nobody's going to bust through one door, see a second door and think "Shucks! Guess I'll go home!" If they possess the tools or strength to get past the first door without a key, the second door will only slow them down, and this will probably just make them more angry by the time they get to your apartment and start stealing your things.

You know what? I guess if someone forgets to lock one door, they'll hopefully remember to lock the second, which cuts a burglar's chance in half. God dammit. It makes perfect sense. Fuck it, I'm leaving my rant on here.

Sometimes in life, you just won't know how to act.
Like how not to feel a little awkward when you:

Try to do something suave and injure yourself really badly.

Buy toilet paper.

These folks have to do it far less often.

Say "what?" more than twice.

Send more than two un-reciprocated texts.

Make eye contact with a mother whose child just backed into your crotch.

Over the years, this is how I've felt while in church:

0-8: Enthralled

8-12: Bored

12-16: Bored

14-20: Bored

20-25: ...Enthralled...aaaaaannDDD HAHA TOTALLY FUCKING KIDDING. STILL BORED.

Cross Country

2011-04-14T12:05:00.000-07:00

Previously I wrote an article about athletic feats and how I tend to regret them. Within this article, I mentioned cross country practice in high school. This reminded me of all kinds of awful things to write about.

First off however, I admit I wasn't entirely fair to running earlier. In a non-competitive context, it can be pleasant. Ever take a nice jog free of distractions and full of nice scenery? It's very therapeutic providing you pace yourself properly, and thinking back, I have experienced this rewarding sensation approximately once. The running gods felt like telling me "Hey check it out, this can be fun, by the way you'll never experience it again."

If I had just gone on leisurely runs now and again, I could've experienced running's positive effects more often, but after joining Cross Country, and practicing every day, the competitive part of me took over. This was no place for leisurely jogs. I was running to get faster god dammit. I'm gonna end up in the fucking olympics. And oh sure, I got faster, but only after I sacrificed my general well being.

So God Damn Much
I think when starting out any exercise regimen, it's better to do it about 3 days a week so you get ample rest between workouts. So much for that! When the season started I went from running about 0 miles per week to more than 30. Probably not recommended. And this is high school we're talking about, so I was probably running more miles per day than I was getting hours of sleep per night. If I had collapsed at any point, doctors probably would've thought "yeah that looks about right."

Each practice we'd warm up with a couple miles. After those couple of miles, I was ready to go home. Then we'd run maybe five more miles. Then we'd "cool off" with a couple more. What better way to wind down after a long run than to go on another run? Thankfully though, some days weren't full of long runs. We'd do sprints and hill training instead!

Go!

I wasn't used to that kind of shit.

After a couple weeks, running went from "face-meltingly exhausting" to just "tiring" but it was never easy because practice was all about pushing yourself. Those first couple weeks of adjustment were fraught with discomfort, namely:

Cramps
We've all experienced cramps while exercising. How to get rid of them? Well you can take it easier for awhile, swing your arms around, try some breathing exercises, or throw yourself under a bus. I would routinely get painful cramps down my left side and occasionally in my neck. They were definitely uncomfortable, but never crippling. Then a week or so into practice I got a new kind of cramp. A "stitch" if you will. It was the mothership from which all other feeble cramps were dispersed. It was on my right side, just under my ribs and it felt like being stabbed. Within seconds I went from this:

to this:

There was no running through it or stretching. Even walking was painful. I just had to stop and wait for the horror to subside. It even happened in the first race of the season. I ended up with a total time about five minutes higher than it should've been. But eventually, I got in better shape, learned to breathe in a more regular rhythm, and ate more bananas, so these cramps went away, but they were soon taken over by:

Shin Splints
Shin splints felt like this:

Left untreated they can turn into stress fractures, but luckily it never got to that point for me. It would flare up during runs and hang around after practices to the point where if I didn't ice my shins for an hour or so I would have a dull ache in my legs all the time.

After a few more weeks, the cramps weren't a problem, the shin splint pain was miserable but manageable, and I was even getting a little faster! So practices had become tolerable, and since I was hanging out with friends, they could even be fun sometimes. But then came:

The Races
The races should've been called the "watch several people run way faster than you's". After a healthy couple hours of performance anxiety, we'd gather at the starting line and psyche ourselves up. Ignoring the urge to blurt out "Hey guys I'd be just as happy not doing this" we'd all take off at a near sprint. The idea was to run almost as fast as you could for the first few hundred yards, because a strong start is important, and also because the less time the crowd saw you in the compression shorts the better.

Behold, the sports bra for your balls.

Ah compressions shorts...Perhaps the tendency for parts to flap around while running is evidence that we just weren't meant to run that much. Let me just pause right there and give your sexual fantasies some room to run around for a bit. Oh, and we also had tiny purple shorts. Besides sharing the school colors, they served basically no other purpose than to hide the bulge.

So there I am in the woods thinking "I can't wait until this is over" for pretty much the whole race, when suddenly the end would be in sight! Seeing it would provide us all with hope, and most everyone would run the final fifty yards or so in a dead sprint. Start strong and end strong right?

Have you ever sprinted after running three miles? I'm not quite sure why it seems like such a good idea at the time to kill yourself and shave a few seconds off your time, rather than to just take it easy and not end up in the hospital. There was no catching your breath after these sprints. The relief that normally accompanies the end of physical exertion was always late to the meeting.

You would stop running, and still feel just as tired. After that horrible phase was over with, you'd feel ready to puke for a little while, and plenty of people did. I was jealous of those people. As much as a good vomit would have made me feel better, I managed to be no better than a rat, with seemingly no ability to do so. I guess it makes sense, for what would I vomit up after becoming so empty inside?

The Payoff
There was a bit of redeeming value to these runs though. After all the pain and misery subsided, the remaining endorphin surge, mixed with the realization that we didn't have to do it again for another week made us all feel pretty invincible.

I don't regret the experience at all. Getting in better shape, and some healthy competition was good for me. Plus we all know how fun it is to share misery with friends.

So would I recommend running? Yeah, just stay off the fucking pavement. Jesus Christ shin splints were awful.

Journey To England Part X

2011-04-07T10:26:00.000-07:00

We awoke early the next morning, surprisingly un-hungover. Now here's an interesting fact. The room had ten beds. When we went to bed the previous night, the remaining eight beds were all occupied by sleeping people. Since we woke up early, they were all still asleep. So despite sharing a room with eight people, neither mike nor I ever met any of them.

We started off the day by going to some gift shops. Once again, every single one looked the same. We each got a tartan scarf, which probably wasn't made by a real Scottish person at all. I'd be surprised if there was even a Scottish person in the same room at the time, or even within shouting distance. Then we headed off to the bus station. We had to take the bus back into London, where we planned to catch a connecting bus to Norwich, where Mike's grandfather would pick us up.

And so began the worst day of the trip.

It started out fine. We pulled into a service station maybe halfway through the nine hour bus ride for a ten minute break. Snacks were had by all. If the remainder of the trip was to be anything like those snacks, we were looking at some smooth sailing. Everyone piled back on the bus, ready for London...but the bus wouldn't start. Assuming the drivers (two for such a long trip) would know that passengers had things to do, like "catch other fucking buses" I figured there was a company protocol in place in case for such a scenario, and we'd be back on the road shortly.

An hour passed. We were told virtually nothing.

Hmm..

Suddenly the bus started!

Excellent! Let's get going!

C'mon then!

Why aren't we leaving?

HMM?!?

The drivers were spectacularly good at leaving us in the dark, so only after enough people asked what the fuck we were waiting for did they tell us they were waiting for another bus to arrive. Huh?

Well, It wasn't a direct route to London. There were scheduled stops beforehand, and anybody getting off before London could take this soon to arrive bus, leaving this bus free to go straight to London, in order to make up for lost time. Oh! Perfect!

Another hour passed.

#@$

Surely by then all the time they'd spent doing fuck-all had rendered their whole time saving strategy worthless.

Finally we got word we'd meet the other bus about fifteen minutes away, and we got moving. Mike and I were panicking at this point, because this bus had been scheduled to get us to London with just over an hour to spare to make our connection. Now that we'd wasted two hours, we hoped to hell that by shuffling passengers around, we'd make up enough time to still catch the connecting bus.

Everything eventually got sorted out, and both buses took off. A few minutes later, the driver got call on his radio that one of the moved passengers had left something on this bus, and we had to turn around.

@#$%$#%@#%!!!!

I was about ready to murder puppies at this point with no remorse, so when the driver got a second call several minutes later that said "Whoops! Sorry, the passenger's bag was here the whole time!" my rage was mind boggling. An extra fifteen minutes wasted. Remember that.

Back on the road! The driver tried to get everyone to the station as quickly as possible, but of course traffic in London was pretty thick, so even though we were on the outskirts of town with a solid half an hour before our next bus was scheduled to leave, the infuriating stop and go traffic lasted forty five minutes, and we missed our bus by, yup:

Fifteen. Fucking. Minutes.

Hours of delays and fuck ups, and if it hadn't been for some stupid asshole on the other bus thinking they'd left their bag behind when they hadn't, and we probably would've made it.

It was about 10pm, and the next bus to Norwich wasn't until 10am the next morning. So what the fuck were we supposed to do? Mike called his grandfather for tips, who mentioned the last train to Norwich left Liverpool station at 11pm. The station stop was about 45 minutes away by subway, so we had to book it. Keep in mind we're racing around town with all of our heavy ass luggage still. We got to the subway platform for the yellow line and hoped to see a train shortly, but we noticed the platform was suspiciously empty. Oh what's this? A sign!

Yellow line under construction this weekend.

PERFECT

So it was about 10:30. By then we didn't have any chance of making it to the train station before 11, even by cab, so we were staying in London that night, but where?

Back to the bus station to complain to megabus for fucking up our lives!

We didn't get any help regarding whether Megabus would give us any refunds or pay for lodging that night, only that we'd have to call customer service the next day and file a complaint and then wait awhile for them to maybe refund us part of the money. So fuck that stupid ass company right in the face!

We were both short on funds and too exhausted to walk who knows how far to find a hostel that probably wouldn't have any space on such short notice on a Saturday night, so we asked someone working at the bus station if there was a waiting room we could hang out in that night. He said "No, the station closes at midnight."

...Please?

At this point it was just after 11pm, so before figuring out where exactly we'd stay that night we thought "this sucks, let's get utterly wasted." This shined a ray of happiness onto our awful situation. We were so exhausted that we thought it was a perfectly fine plan to get a giant bottle of booze, then drink it in a park until we passed out.

We found a store that said they sold booze, but it wasn't in an immediately obvious spot, so we grew concerned. Then we noticed giant trash bags covering one section of the store. Not kidding, trash bags taped to the walls. Fearing the worst, we asked the clerk if they weren't selling booze anymore.

"No alcohol after 11!"

Oh god no. We tried to explain to them the misery of our situation, and since it was only 11:20, surely they could make an exception.

"No alcohol after 11!"

...PLEASE?!?!

So we walked out, yet another awful defeat added to the pile. The bus station opened back up at 6am, so we thought "how hard could it be to kill six hours? Let's just hang out in a park and fall asleep or something."

It started raining.

We scurried back to a corner near the bus station, where there was some protection from the rain. We didn't know what else to do but just sit there for hours until the station opened back up. It was getting awfully cold too.

Soon a security guard came by and told us to leave.

Too angry for coherent thought.

We were at the end of our ropes, so we calmly explained our situation, when what we really felt like doing was beating him to death with clubs. He repeated that we couldn't stay there so we said "...ok we'll leave soon." He apparently had an ounce of humanity left in him, because even though it was blatantly obvious we had no plans to actually leave, he said "Ok, that's fine." He left, and thankfully didn't return, so we were able to get a couple miserable hours of sleep. We both knew what it felt like to be homeless that night.

After the longest night of our lives, we headed back to the bus station before 6am so we could get inside as soon as it opened. Then we could at least be inside a heated building for the last few hours before our bus.

And It was already fucking open.

.....

Several people were asleep inside.

If any of you out there know me as a fairly laid back person, this is why. After experiencing the rage I felt at that moment, I knew that any anger I felt for the rest of my life would feel like sunshine compared to this.

We nodded off for a bit and finally 10am came around. That bus ride was one of the most relieving experiences I had ever felt. We had been through hell, and were still alive! Now it was time to relax on the English countryside for a week. Thank fuck for that.

EPILOGUE!
Mike tried to get in touch with Megabus several times to see about getting a refund for the shitty trip, a refund for the bus we missed, or a refund for the extra ticket we had to buy. Multiple phone calls later customer service said "you can file a complaint online." And that was that. We did.

MONTHS LATER, Mike got a response. They were happy to give a refund for one of the tickets, provided he still had the Bus ticket info, and confirmation # from the original purchase. Needless to say, he didn't have the info readily available.

Fuck you megabus. I'm not even gonna fucking capitalize you anymore.

(Just kidding about the puppies thing by the way.)

My Analysis of More Strange Facts

2011-04-03T17:33:00.000-07:00

I'm drinking beer out of a giant goblet as I write this. Just wanted to share that.

Since the last one of these was fun, let's do it again! And probably some more after this one! You know what? Let's just keep doing this til it's not fun anymore.

Until we are but clinging to the shattered remnants of our former lives.

Take a Room with 100 American Women, 4 of them Probably Aren't Wearing Underwear
No I didn't read this in a penthouse. How could I read that with all the pages stuck together?

So I have to wonder, who gathered this data? And how? Is this just a roundabout way of saying 4 percent of women don't wear underwear? Or did the author of this study repeatedly fill a room with 100 women and start asking personal questions? And finally, how I can search for this study without mostly finding porn?

Well, this was pretty much impossible to find out more about. Certain sites would give a figure of 3.9%, while others said 53%, which while awesome, probably isn't true. The most definitive thing I could find was this page that showed 2% of men and 4% of women prefer "other styles" than those listed, which I suppose could include commando. That 4% conveniently matches up with the original fact, but I think I need to do some further research. I'm completely willing to check, but I just gotta warn everyone that an accident I had a few years back prevents me from checking with anything but my face.

In 1983 a Japanese Artist Made a Copy of the Mona Lisa Entirely with Toast
It's so rare that art and toast mix, so I was excited to look this one up. Assuming this one's true, I wonder how inspiration hit? Was it as simple as he was eating some toast while reading about the Mona Lisa, when he suddenly thought "I have no friends"?

Well, This site displays the same fact, only it says it was 1982. His name was (and probably still is) Tadahiko Ogawa. So you know, case closed, or is it? Check this shit out:

This is also a mona lisa made from toast, but it was made by a different guy. That's right, multiple Toasta Lisas. And as you can see, this guy took a few creative liberties. If you're at all interested, this link shows the process in a bit more detail, and proves that if you put your mind to it, you can create some pretty pointless shit.

But wait. If this guy was a toast art purist, he wouldn't have resorted to mere copies of other famous works right? Sounds like a sellout to me. Nope, here's an entire fucking gallery of toast art.

Before I get any more upset about that existing, let's just abandon this one.

Flamingoes Hold Their Heads Upside Down Because it's the Only Way They Can Eat
This sounds like a huge drag. Imagine what our dinner tables would look like if we had a similar problem? Well, I guess they'd look the same actually.

I thought evolution was in place to prevent inconvenient traits like this from persevering. Wouldn't it be more advantageous to not have to awkwardly position yourself to eat? Suppose you get hungry and start doing your upside down thing and a bear comes lumbering out of the woods. You're fucking oblivious because all of your brainpower is focused on trying not to look so stupid while eating in such a dumb way, and then *chomp* you're dead. And you know what? The bear doesn't have to awkwardly bend it's neck around to eat you.

Hey look at me! I'm fucking STUPID.

Well it's true. Here's a site that explains it. Apparently it involves mouth boners.

The First Known Contraceptive was Crocodile Dung, Used by Egyptians in 2000 BC
Before I get to the whole "looking this up" part, that sentence implies that other contraceptives were possibly used before that, but kept a secret. I also have to wonder how the Egyptians conveyed that crocodile dung was used in this way. Why would they bother to write about it? Just the insatiable human need to catalog things I guess.

Or maybe they drew a picture:

Spot on knowledge of hieroglyphics.

Wow. Egyptians sucked at drawing/math.

Ok, so let's get some background. See, I originally assumed this worked as a contraceptive only in that nobody would want to have sex with a girl if her vag was smeared with shit. Then I wondered if maybe it was actually a condom fashioned out of crocodile shit, so used because of it's elastic properties? Then I wondered, maybe they had to eat it, and it somehow caused a chemical reaction that made them temporarily infertile? But that's not very scientific either, because it's no mystery why the guy that's eating shit isn't getting laid. Then I realized I'd been thinking about crocodile shit for too long, and got depressed.

Here is a site that explains it in a bit more detail, if you're interested. Turns out the dung was mixed with a few things to make a sort of shit cocktail tampon, and wouldn't you know it? No babies! Isn't learning fun?

Journey to England Part IX

2011-03-22T11:43:00.000-07:00

I won't tell you much about the train ride into Edinburgh, because I don't really remember it. I guess I'm trying to win an award for "most pointless introductory sentence". Anyway, Edinburgh was huge and awesome. Hmm no, vast and majestic. Yeah, that makes me sound smarter.

Remember how we were tired of carrying our packs after the first day? Well now it had been a week, so we immediately sought to get rid of them somehow. Should all hostels have been booked up, we probably would have thrown them off the nearest bridge. Were no bridges nearby, we would have...I don't know, shut up.

We found a place called the Castle Rock Hostel, so named either because it was built into the castle rock, or because it was near the castle, and also rocked. All of the beds in the rooms were named after castles. I was castle Dunnottar.

Here's the grossly colored room:

Mike was pretty excited about it.

So remember how I felt underwhelmed by that last castle! WELL WE WENT TO ANOTHER ONE! Haha! This time I went with the full understanding that this was more a museum than anything else. So with no hopes to be dashed, it was fun. GIANT CANNON TIME.

The people on either side of me are perplexed.

So after some fun exploration, we went to the grocery store and GREGG'S. Oh man...

FUCKING

GOOD

I don't know, maybe it was the result of being a bit more hungry than usual, but I lived for this place. They sold cheap things like sausage rolls and meat pasties. As much as those sound like obscure sexual maneuvers, they weren't. They were delicious foods for weary travelers like ourselves. I've just realized I may have mentioned Gregg's in a previous post, but if so it bears retelling.

Then we did some more sightseeing. We checked out the royal mile, Edinburgh's main street, a famous graveyard, some monuments, and a museum, all the while listening to some bagpipes somewhat against our will, because just one player in the middle of the city could be heard EVERYWHERE. We didn't have much time in the museum since it was kind of an afterthought and was closing soon, so you'd probably expect us to have made the most of it. I can assure you, we did.

So as I've mentioned before, our budget was stretched pretty thin, so we went back to the hostel to get some more food rather than spend money at some restaurant. In the common room, we found droves of people from all over that seemed to live out of the hostel for weeks at a time. They had their own mini-fridges, and were setting up shop in the kitchen chopping vegetables and preparing elaborate meals. Mike and I ate some bread and peanut butter and did our best to avoid eye contact with these people.

For that evening's entertainment, we went to a pub to get some beer and watch some soccer. Looming in our view outside was this:

Naturally we thought: Let's get drunk and climb that. So we grabbed the cheapest 12 pack we could find and off we went. God I'm starting to sound like an alcoholic. Didn't I just mentioned we ate shitty food to save money?

That mountain was called King Arthur's Seat. There was probably a trail somewhere, but we just hiked up the side, which was the steepest fucking hill in all of time and space. Then we realized there were two ways to the very top, going all the way around, or scaling that rock face you can see in that picture. So for some dumb reason, I dropped whatever I was carrying to give the rock face a test. It wasn't too difficult, but then there I was at the top, without my stuff, so I had to climb back down and grab it. We both climbed back up, and then I realized I'd forgotten my hat, so I climbed back down again, then back up a third time. It was getting fairly dark and we weren't exactly waiting to get to the top to open the 12 pack if you catch my drift, so I was really pumped that I didn't fall. The view from the top of that hill was astounding.

We wisely decided to take the long way down after it was dark.

It turns out being drunk also makes you hilarious, so at some point here we thought it'd be funny to start talking to everyone/each other in Scottish accents. Although probably better than I can do now since I had been surrounded by it for a few days, I'm sure it was still terrible. Nobody said anything though, and it continued for the rest of the night.

I don't really remember what else happened, although these two pictures help fill in the blanks.

*sigh*

Bullshit Facts, OR ARE THEY?!

2011-03-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows by now that shit you read on the internet that seems like it isn't true, probably isn't true. And when I say everyone, I actually mean startlingly few. But occasionally you come across some facts that if indeed true, would be awesome. Let's look at some.

Penguins can Jump Six Feet in the Air
You're shitting me. Now when I first read this fact, I pictured something like this:

As you can see from this Picasso, I imagined 6 feet in the air to be a straight vertical jump, kinda like a penguin pogo stick. Then I thought maybe penguins are only really capable of a a 6 foot broad jump, which is way less awesome. So I did some very minimal research. Answers.com provided me with this brilliant insight:

As helpful as that was, I still felt I needed further clarification. Further research shows that yes, they can indeed jump 6 feet, but the trajectory is never mentioned. However, one site explained that since they are powerful swimmers, they can rocket themselves out of the water onto dry land, a feat we all witnessed in March of the Penguins. Is this what this fact is referring to? Where jumping is merely shorthand for "rocketing out of the water"? Well, I don't really feel like doing any further research so let's move on.

Americans Drink an Average of 90 Million Cans of Beer Every Day
My first thought was, I could never drink 90 million cans of beer in a day. That would take me at least a couple weeks. Soon after I realized oh, Americans collectively drink that much in a day. Well is it true?

Further research points to production of around 6 billion gallons annually, and we'll round that to 15 million gallons a day. That's about 1.9 billion ounces, which converted to 12 ounce cans, is around 150 million cans of beer produced every day. So hopefully we're actually drinking way more than 90 million cans a day. Otherwise we're wasting about 10 million six packs every day. That is truly horrifying.

The World's Oldest Goldfish Lived to be 41 Years Old
This just seems like utter horse shit immediately. Aren't goldfish given to little kids to teach them about death at an early age? Because they inevitably die fairly quickly? If there was ever a goldfish out there that lived to be 41, then either it's some sort of crazy genetic anomaly, or people just really suck at taking care of goldfish. Let's find out.

Well I'll be damned. According to multiple sources, the oldest goldfish lived to be 43! 43 fucking years. It turns out most die much earlier because of improper care. I guess a neglected fishbowl isn't the best place for them to thrive after all! Which makes sense, because if you aren't changing the water regularly, they're swimming in their own shit, which can't be good. They live much longer in ponds and aquariums, and grow much bigger there too. 43 though. Jesus.

Apparently the 41 year old goldfish was named Fred. The 43 year old was named Tish. Why did I include their names? I don't know.

There's a Town in Newfoundland, Canada Called Dildo
I chose to penetrate deeply into the records, wondering if this was true or not. It turns out it is!

To the left there, is Dildo Island, which shares its name with countless pornos.

What must it be like to live there? I imagined inserting myself into the lives of its residents. I probed around, wondering what sorts of sights and activities were at their fingertips. Probably not much, as it's fairly isolated. To get there from the mainland, one would have to travel south. It is Canada though, so I'm sure things get pretty slippery in the winter. Ok, I think I've dicked around with this topic enough, so I'll close with one final question. I wonder if they have an In 'N Out Burger?

If an Orangutan Belches at You, They are Warning You to Stay Away
After wondering if I was perhaps the first person ever to search for "Belching Orangutan Warning", I checked out the veracity of the statement. It shows up all over the internet on random fact and trivia websites, but any sort of background information is conspicuously absent. I guess once you've absorbed that information, what else do you need to know?

DURRRRR

Some pointers for orangutans though, if you want me to stay away, just do something else like I dunno, yelling. Or throwing poo. You primates are pretty famous for that right? Don't get me wrong, If I'm encroaching on your territory, I would much much rather you burp at me than throw poo at my face, but suppose I had never stumbled upon this fact? I would have no idea what to think of your burping other than "wow that orangutan is fucking gross" or "I guess someone just ate" or "shut the fuck up".

And what if you wanted to be inviting but you'd just had a soda? Friends are dropping by and you're just sitting there burping up a storm. They recognize that as a warning and take off and now how are you going to spend your afternoon?

Real fucking smart orangutans.

Left Handed-ness

2011-03-17T14:20:00.000-07:00

HEY. I'm a lefty. This puts me with about 10% of the population. Does this make me special? You bet.

To begin, why are so few people lefties? Well, This dude thinks that higher levels of testosterone in the womb might lead to becoming a lefty, which apparently doesn't happen often? Testosterone stunts brain growth on the left side, so neurons looking for a place to settle scoot on over to the right, which controls the left side of the body. So basically, leftiness is linked to high testosterone, which means people like me are manly as hell.

So what about female lefties? Well I didn't think of that until I was in the middle of that joke just now, so I'm going to leave that one hanging.

Some Background
What comes with left-handedness on a large scale? What trends exist among us? Well for one, apparently we're better with spatial awareness. I'm definitely good at that. I can tell you with one-hundred percent certainty that I am not floating in space, and I am "aware" of this fact. However, we also tend to have higher incidents of dyslexia and learning disorders. Drag. (Bet you expected some dyslexia joke huh? Haha fuck yuo.)

Also, historically, people hated us. The negative word sinister is derived from a word originally meaning left. Does this mean I want to kill you? Probably. Also, the positive word dexterous is derived from a word originally meaning right. So when you say "ambidexterous" you're saying both sides are as good as the right.

There are a whole host of other historical parallels between left-bad and right-good, but I'm assuming you didn't come here for a fucking history lesson.

I've also heard that back in the day, teachers would discourage left-handedness by forcing lefties to switch to their right hand, because god dammit if they were going to allow something trivial with no negative consequences whatsoever go unpunished.

Personal
What's my experience with left handedness? Just a bunch of little shit that's common among all lefties.

When I meet a fellow lefty, I may do things like high five them, or exchange an admiring glance that communicates acceptance, now that I know there is another member in the exclusive club. Haha, I jest.
I smudge my handwriting due to constantly dragging my hand through it. This can lead the entire side of my hand to turn the color of the ink I'm using, or gray if I'm using a pencil.
This makes writing with quill pens fucking impossible.
I'm pretty confused by the term "southpaw".
Yeah yeah, lefty pitchers end up facing south in traditional ball parks, but it's still weird.
It's such a specific reference.
I don't have paws.
When using right handed tools with my left hands, I look retarded.
I wear my watches on my right hand.
I mean in general, I don't wear more than one watch.
I actually don't wear any.
When in a restaurant, I try to sit on a far left side so I don't constantly bump elbows with the person next to me (assuming they're a righty).
I almost always fail at this.
I lead with my left hand playing drums, but I play a right handed setup, so for awhile it was all fucked up.
School desks built for righties were a pain in the ass.
Something written on a pen or pencil will always be upside down when writing with the left hand.

So as you can see, just a bunch of insignificant stuff.

So if you're a lefty, tell me! We'll throw a party, and none of you right handed people can come.

Just kidding, you can come. You probably won't be as spatially aware as us, but you know, it's cool.

Let's Talk About BREAKFAST CEREAL!

2011-03-15T19:33:00.000-07:00

I wonder where we'd be without cereal. I guess we'd all still be in the same place. Well, unless you worked at a cereal factory, then you'd be somewhere else. But of course, what I meant was how would society differ? I guess we'd all eat more eggs.

Sorry.

But the reality of the situation is, the cereality if you will, is that it does exist. Thumbs up for that, because I'm a fan of cereal. So, in my unending desire to to break things up into manageable chunks since I have attention issues, I propose that there are four kinds of cereal. Healthy, benign, unhealthy, and hot.

Healthy!
Here we find cereal like Kashi, Honey Bunches of Oats, Raisin Bran, granola related cereals, etc. Cereals with ten thousand different vitamins and minerals, and so much fiber you will shit immediately after eating it! These are for the people that like to start their day off the right way. They might even get fancy and put berries and bananas in it.

Oh wait, bananas are berries. Ok uh, berries and...other fruit. They are usually advertised as "Part of a complete breakfast!" Because that slogan tends to work better than "This is an incomplete breakfast." Cereal like this makes you feel good, not only because it's healthy, but because you can feel proud for not succumbing to the temptation to just stuff your fat face with doughnuts instead.

I like to eat some of these. Particularly "Go Lean Crunch" because not only does it sound like some sort of power up, but it tastes alright, and doesn't come with regret. The drawback though is that like most healthy cereals, it's fucking expensive. And I don't mean in the grand scheme of things. It's not as expensive as say, a boat, but as far as cereals go, $4 for a tiny box is a bit much.

Benign!
This category includes cereals like corn flakes, shredded wheat, chex, and rice krispies. Ah rice krispies, perpetuating the trend of making shit just a little bit different by replacing a c with a k because they sound the same!

These cereals are kind of healthy too I guess, but aren't really marketed as such. I think the only reason they're still around is because back in the day when cereal was a new thing, they didn't bother adding all kinds of fancy ingredients. Simply the fact that it was this new thing called "cereal" was enough to make people go "awesome, I can't wait to add some milk to that shit." (It's astounding how little research went into that statement).

But hey, here we are decades later, and all these cereals are still around. I'm thinking it's partially because of brand loyalists, but also because these companies have gotten creative. Would rice krispies still be around without rice krispie treats? Would corn flakes still be around if you couldn't crush them up and add them to things like breaded meat and cereal bars? Would shredded wheat still be around if it wasn't for really boring people? Who knows.

"I was sleeping on this pillow made of wheat and thought, HEY, CEREAL!"

A third reason they're still around, and also the reason I sometimes eat them, is because they're cheap as hell. For $2.50 I can get enough corn flakes to feed a bus.

Like, a bus full of people. Buses themselves don't eat. Unless you were going to make a new cereal called "gasoline flakes" or something.

..Fuck you.

Unhealthy!
These are my favorite. Boo Berry, Count Chocula, Cookie Crisp, Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs etc. I love all of that shit. These guys like to advertise all their vitamins and minerals too, while conveniently failing to mention how loaded with mostly not vitamins they are. The only reason people buy them is because of the sugar, and possibly because they hate ghosts.

Imma eat you.

These cereals are mostly for kids, or irresponsible adults. A fun trend among these cereals is mascots, because kids won't eat shit without a cartoon on the box. Cap'n Crunch, the Lucky Charms Leprechaun, the Trix Rabbit, Count Chocula (BAM TWO MENTIONS IN ONE ARTICLE) Tony the Tiger, and more! Corn Flakes eventually caught on to that mascot trend, and went from this:

PUT 3 STRAWBERRIES IN EACH BOWL.

To this:

CHANGED MY MIND. JUST ONE STRAWBERRY.

Lately I've been on reese's peanut butter puffs tear. Well, it's actually the generic brand, called cocoa peanut butter spheres, which I think I like better cause of "spheres". It's like they took an already great cereal, and injected it with science. I try not to buy sugary cereal too much though, cause I eat it so god damn fast I might as well have never bought it in the first place.

Hot Cereal
These only make it in on a technicality. Shit like oatmeal and cream of wheat. It's bullshit. I'm done talking about it. Why did I even include it.

Journey to England Part VIII

2011-03-09T18:43:00.000-08:00

Sterling Castle!!

When you think of castles, you probably think of dark and dusty dungeons, catacombs, battlements, towers, elaborate stone walkways etc. Well at one point in history, all that did of course exist. But nowadays, those types of things can be "dangerous". So a lot of things are closed off. Also, all the cool stuff is now encased in glass, refurbished, etc. So basically, you think of seeing things like this:

GLOOOOMMM

Which you can still find in some castles, but in bigger tourist attraction castles, what you mostly get is this:

What is this bullshit?

Seeing wax sculptures of dudes getting their skulls bayoneted by other screaming dudes is wicked awesome and all, but I felt it detracted from the mystique of the castle. Everything authentically old and filled with history had been reinforced, mounted, and added to. I expect to see that kind of thing at a museum, but when I go to a castle, I want to feel like I've stepped back through time. I want to actually catch the black plague. Carefully renovated and arranged exhibits, and wax soldiers going "RARR!" made the whole experience somewhat underwhelming. It was still pretty cool, just not what I expected.

So afterwards, we checked out the courtyard and graveyard. Look at this fucking awesome picture:

A dove on each grave. What's interesting is these two graves belong to husband and wife. These birds are apparently always showing up here, and legend has it that the two lovers have been reincarnated as these birds, and they are drawn to these two graves to relive past memories, destined to always be together. Amazing huh?

Haha! I just made ALL of that up. It could be true I guess, but probably not. I don't know if the people in those two graves were even related. Pretty cool tombstones though huh?

Nothing makes me think of pizza quite like death.

So, since like most castles, this one was at the top of a giant hill, we had a perfect vantage point to scope for a place to camp that night. We saw a place a couple of miles away that looked sufficiently far from any roads or houses. But first, we planned to walk back down through town to check out what it had to offer. It turns out this town offered curry fries and beer. Delicious. After exploring a bit, we realized we had wandered in the opposite direction from where we had planned to camp, so we said "ah fuck it, let's go this way and see what happens". Off we went to the outskirts of town! We saw some decent sized fields, but the thing was, there was no place to hide. Every decent place to pitch a tent was in full view of a house. Since it's not exactly legal to just pitch a tent on somebody else's lawn we realized we'd have to either ask permission, possibly get denied and be fucked, or keep looking for a place out of view, maybe not find one, and be fucked. It reminds me of that old saying "He that travels far is fucked."

WELL HOT DAMN. At the end of the road we were on, there was a small hill by a river that completely shielded us from the road and the closest house. Tent pitched! And I don't mean in my pants. Although having a place to sleep that night was pretty sexy.

Scotland: the only country with rivers.

So geese are violent. Here's a story about Mike and I finding that out the hard way. When we were exploring this little riverbed, we spotted a couple geese swimming nearby. We thought something probably along the lines of "oh look, geese!" and then forgot about them because who hasn't seen geese before? Fuck em.

Well as we wandered down the shore the geese got a bit more vocal. At this point we thought something probably along the lines of "oh listen, geese!" and then forgot about them again because who hasn't heard geese honk before? Then splishy splash, they got all panicked and started swimming towards us quickly. I actually remember seeing their feet coming above the water they were paddling so furiously. We were drunk, so it's only at this point we realized "ohh, they must have eggs or baby geese nearby." So we backed off a little bit. They however, didn't.

I get it, if your young are being threatened, you go into attack mode. But we're way fucking bigger than them, and yet somehow they had adapted to show no fear in the face of adversity. They didn't just flap around and honk. Oh no, one of those motherfuckers put its head down and charged. With its body all contorted like that, I actually found myself a little bit afraid. Was this strictly geese territory? Were they going to call their friends and massacre us? Were we going to have to find a new place to camp? No, Mike just had to almost kick one in the face, and they eventually backed off. One of my biggest regrets of this trip is not getting a picture of that.

We finished drinking beer by a river, and went to sleep.

The next morning we walked back into town to the train station. It was only about 7 pounds for a train to Edinburgh which made us happy, because we were prepared to spend pretty much anything to not have to hitchhike. This however was cheap, so woohoo. We got the traditional Scottish breakfast in the station's little diner.

"Hey Dave what should we put in this?" "I DUNNO, EGGS AND ALL THE BROWN SHIT YOU CAN FIND."

It was similar to the English breakfast with a notable difference. Black pudding. The main ingredients of which aren't nearly as horrifying as haggis, but still pretty gross. It's basically blood and fat mixed with filler like oats and spices, boiled in a sausage casing and cooled. Then you eat it. You put that shit in your mouth. Yup, kinda gross, but again, we had to try it. All things considered it wasn't too bad. It tasted pretty metallic, which was weird, but I got past that by thinking "nope I'm just tasting the fork, not the blood."

So after our little vampire experiment we boarded the train to Edinburgh. Later we would get drunk and climb mountains. But more on that later...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE!!

2011-02-28T15:39:00.000-08:00

Dammit, meant to post this earlier.

My brother turns 27 today. He is also better than you.

Here he is probably not sober.

If you see him today, I expect you to make sure he sustains that trend.

Happy B-day bro.

The Mustache

2011-02-27T14:43:00.000-08:00

So I was looking at the picture of that dude at the top of my list post, and I noticed something. That's a hell of a mustache. Then I found myself thinking about mustaches for awhile.

Let's start with the spelling. I'm sure you've all seen it spelled moustache. But which is correct? Let's find out!

Yup. I actually did this.

Well, the only definition of it with this spelling, is the same word spelled differently. I guess this proves that while it's not technically incorrect to throw the 'o' in there, it's like spelling shop, "shoppe", which is to say, old fashioned. I don't know anyone that actually does this. Probably because I don't associate with no good letter wasters. Nope, not in this country.

Moving on, it seems there are three main categories of mustaches. The ironic stache, the the cop stache, and the genuine stache. It's also worth mentioning the phenomenon that doesn't quite deserve its own category: the pube stache. Haha! A red squiggly line. Google doesn't think pube is a word! Well it's time they faced the truth:

Eh..the window was still open.

Take that google. By the way, look at the pronunciation key. Pjub? What the fuck is a pjub?

Back to mustaches. I'm going to give my thoughts on all three categories, even though I know virtually nothing about any of them and aside from this spectacular display of facial hair/shortsightedness:

*sigh*

I rarely dabble in the realm of mustachedom at all.

But what are blogs, if not people speaking at length on subjects they know nothing about?

The Ironic Stache
I get it. As far as facial hair goes, having only a mustache isn't exactly common, or a bold fashion statement. Some people like to sport one anyway, with the full knowledge that they are generally not considered suave. This is perhaps with the hope to project the idea that anything, even a mustache, can be worn with confidence. The ladies will see the mustache triumphantly affixed to one's face and think "there's a guy that rejects social norms, I want to have sex with him." While other dudes will think "I wish I was cool enough to get away with donning a mustache like that." And win win for the agent of mustache adornment! He becomes the envy of other dudes, and the object of infatuation for the ladies. Whether or not these objectives are actually realized is anyone's guess however. It's generally fairly thin, with the occasional flourish.

Hmm...

Well...

Interesting...

Ok... this one's actually pretty awesome.

Draw your own conclusions.

The Cop Stache
To be a good cop, you need a certain amount of steadfastness. You can't constantly be bending the rules for people just because you feel sorry for them, I guess. If you're arresting someone and they detect a hint of compassion, they will exploit that weakness. Well apparently in the police academy, they teach you that your upper lip will betray your supposed iron constitution and you need to cover that shit up. I guess a mustache is slightly more intimidating than no mustache, unless you're one of those four folks above. It's typically a uniform thickness all the way across the upper lip.

You are

Under

Arrest.

Haha, you had to know one of these guys was coming.

The Genuine Stache
Occasionally similar in appearance to the ironic stache. One of the maine differences however is intention. Guys that wear the genuine stache may or may not be aware of its relevance in modern fashion, but don't give a shit. They sport the stache because they fucking like it, and fuck you if you don't. The other major difference between this and the ironic stache is length of application. One who grows the ironic stache will more often than not give up on it after a period of time. Growers of the genuine stache however, will don it proudly throughout the years.

And let's not forget:

The Pube Stache
It gets it name due its popularity among those in mid-puberty, and also because it looks like pubes on your face. The excitement of being able to grow any facial hair at all somehow outweighs the much more rational decision of waiting until it's at least a respectable amount. It's not usually a problem as it's mostly junior high kids that try it out, and they don't know anything, so they can be forgiven. However, among grown men, it becomes a more curious phenomenon. Also for some reason it seems to be a favorite among athletes.

Weird.

I suppose this opens the door for a possible future post on beards.

Probably won't do it though.

Why I Don't Watch The Jersey Shore

2011-02-18T10:11:00.000-08:00

I bet you expected some elitist holier-than-thou spiel. Haha fuck you and your pre-conceptions right in the mouth.

No, I choose not to watch it because I'd probably like it.

TV producers are vile scum that know exactly what people want to watch and for this reason I hate them. My ideal life would be sipping various flavors of punch while meditating in peaceful solitude. I would reflect on life's greater questions and become more spiritually fulfilled with each passing day. But, I don't have time for that bullshit because too often I find myself wondering, "Hey what's on TV?" So you see, TV producers have stolen my life, in a manner of speaking.

This could've been me.

But, in an effort to find some sort of middle ground, I have to choose which shows to watch, and which shows not to watch. I've basically whittled it down to sports, mythbusters, the office...uh, some other comedies, blah blah etc.. Basically I watch things that I don't get too attached to, lest I start sacrificing more important things to keep up. Trashy TV like the Jersey Shore is (probably?) entertaining, and that's precisely why I avoid it. I know if I watch just one episode, I'll probably get all wrapped up in it.

It was this or a mummy.

Now since I've never actually seen it, I'm going to make some assumptions. If I'm wrong, there's no need to inform me. I don't care.

So, maybe the people on the show are dumb as bricks! Maybe that's why everyone loves them! They're like stupid dogs that shit all over the house, and you want so badly to hate them for doing it, but then they look up at you with an expression that clearly communicates "I haven't done anything wrong right? I like bananas!" or something, and then aw shucks, you can't stay mad. But why? Here's muh theory:

Everyone loves a little authenticity in the people they hang out with, artists they follow, music they listen to, and people they watch on TV. Some TV producer that knows this found a bunch of people that have been spoiled their whole lives, and have gained so little perspective, that minor insignificant problems somehow escalate into giant displays of emotion. It doesn't matter that these people have blown everything out of proportion. However misplaced, their feelings are real, and we love to watch.

NO! I told you a LARGE coke. A LARGE! YOU FUCKING AWFUL AWFUL PERSON

Now, some might put minor skirmishes into perspective and resolve to quickly get over their troubles, but you know what? They'd be boring as hell to watch. Nobody wants to watch someone sitting at home saying "My girlfriend's having a bad day. I think I'll stay out of her hair and read quietly." No, we want "BITCH WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?" and a fistfight. And once you start sharing these experiences with the people you're watching, you get attached. You connect with them. You pick sides. As much as I hate to say it, I know I would get emotionally invested in these people, so I choose not to watch.

(Plus they all make more money than doctors, teachers, firefighters, scientists, police officers, soldiers, most artists, and most musicians all for getting drunk and getting into trouble, which is kind of annoying.)

Some Things I've Figured Out

2011-02-13T20:38:00.000-08:00

Here's some obvious things I've figured out. Not necessarily recently, but important truths nonetheless.

Forsooth.

I Need Boring Things.
I'm kind of an adult now. And by adult I don't just mean "older" or "getting more ruggedly handsome with each passing day". Although those are both true of course, I've found adulthood has some other unexpected things that go along with it. Allow me to elaborate. Last Christmas my parents asked me what I wanted. For various reasons, I said 'nothing' because eh, what the hell do I really need? Well much later that day, I actually gave this question some thought. Then I was horrified, because I realized the answer was really boring things. For instance, a bathmat (which I still don't have, haha I'm gross) and other random shit, like I dunno...drapes. To get these scary thoughts out of my head, I quickly shifted mental gears and overcompensated by thinking about bicycles powered with dynamite, and hot dog laser cannons etc.

Christmas 2011

Fruits and Vegetables Make you Feel Better.
Obviously when you're younger, your body doesn't have years of neglect gumming up the works, and can use basically whatever shit you throw inside it. Ramen noodles for lunch every god damn day for a year? No problem! LET'S HIKE SOME MOUNTAINS AND SHIT. It doesn't matter! You only eat fruits and vegetables if you think they're tasty, or if you're really hungry. Then, you get older and become weighed down by things, like beer mostly, or having a giant dong. The point is, you are no longer a well oiled machine that can run on shitty garbage food. So then fruits and veggies slide back into the picture, somehow not offended that you've ignored them all these years. And guess what?! They help! Our bodies are built to use them efficiently, as if our ancestors evolved to get the most out of them, since at one point they were some of the only things available. WEIRD.

Unrelated Image.

Getting Enough Sleep is Fucking Great.
My days of staying up late as hell, and still getting up super early for class or work or what have you are far from over. However, recently I've started receiving the benefits of a full night's sleep. Sleep during high school? Fucking forget it. Summers? Staying out late, but working early. College? Not a chance. But now, it's gotten to the point where myself and people I know are in fewer numbers/too poor to be able to stay up/out late every night, so I'll occasionally find myself getting at least a full eight hours of sleep. Holy shit, it's amazing. I had no idea a world where evenings that weren't full of tired misery and headaches existed.

I don't necessarily need a bed.

Best Friends Remain Best Friends even if you Aren't in Constant Contact.
After college, friends get separated. It sucks a whole lot, but it's a fact of life. When you're younger, you dread this inevitability because you're afraid that if you're not in close quarters with your friends, there's not going to be anything to keep the friendship going. Well for some people that's definitely true, but conveniently those same people end up being the ones that weren't all that important anyway. I've found that months and months can go by without seeing some of my closest friends, but that doesn't matter, because when I finally do, we fall right back into it. Talking to your best friends frequently is great, but even if you're not talking frequently, they're still your best friends.

You Should Just Admit you Don't Know.
There's that strange thing we all do in conversation. Someone's chatting away, and they bring up a movie, a band, a concept, or something else you haven't heard of. They do it in a tone that suggests that it's common knowledge, and not wanting to feel like an idiot, you smile and nod, hoping that your unfamiliarity won't become obvious later. Sure, I'm guilty of it. But now, if I don't know what someone's talking about, I just shamelessly admit it, and more often than not, the person I'm talking to is more than happy to enlighten me! It gives them a chance to impart their knowledge, which everyone loves to do, and at the same time I learn something new, even if I end up forgetting it almost immediately. And if that someone does visibly judge me for being unfamiliar, then chances are they're a lousy bag of shit anyway.

So hopefully while reading through this you've though, "Well DUH Matt" at least once.

Football, and Beer.

2011-02-08T21:33:00.000-08:00

FOOTBALL! I like it, generally. I'm going to talk about that, and you're gonna sit there, and like it.

If you understand this reference we're best friends now.

You may wonder, just how excited do I get about it? Well, somewhat. I mostly follow one team, apparently so I can be pissed when they probably don't make it to the superbowl every year. If they actually do make it and manage to win or something crazy like that, the fact remains that none of my friends are fans of the same team, so I've got nobody to celebrate with. With this in mind, I also choose to show some regional pride and follow the Patriots as well so I can relate to fellow New England football fans a little, which is pretty much the best part about being into sports in the first place. The second best part of course, is rubbing it in the face of fans of other teams when yours wins, even though neither of you did anything.

Yeah reward with no effort!

I also enjoy football for the skill involved, and for the tension that results from one play potentially changing the whole game. But this type of appreciation comes from years of familiarity. This isn't what gets anyone into the game in the first place. I think most of the excitement I get from it comes from the following thought process: "Whoa, I arbitrarily picked this team years ago, and now they might actually win the superbowl! That's so lucky for me to have picked them!"

And after years of sticking with the team through horrible seasons, these giddy feelings of excitement intensify. See if you can follow the math here: If you wait twice as long for your team to win, when they finally do, you're about twice as excited.

My theorem has won several awards.

Now, some people don't get football. For a long time I was one of them. It all seemed like a big pointless circus that just made people mad for the most part. Well, over the years my views have evolved, so now I view sports as a big pointless circus that makes people mad for the most part, plus beer.

This is especially true with regard to the superbowl. Not many people watch the superbowl because of interest in the teams involved. I sure fucking don't! I watch it because chances are I know several other people that are watching it, and at least one of those several people will help me get drunk. This sounds silly, and it is. Football is partially just an excuse to hang out and share excitement, resentment, and most of all beer. And during my drunkenness at this latest superbowl party, I realized something else in one of those brief moments of clarity.

The reason I started liking sports evolved out of faking it! I genuinely didn't understand the appeal in my younger years, and made the conscious choice to not give a shit. However, after realizing that a lot of the people I knew were pretty into it, I just said "ah hell with it" and jumped on the bus. For awhile I still didn't care, but if you watch enough sports with enough people that are enthusiastic, it will wear off on you. You just need to make the choice. I did!

Journey to England Part VII 1/2

2011-02-04T11:44:00.000-08:00

(To all number purists: Sorry about the mixing of Roman numerals and Arabic numerals in the title.)

So there's a bit I accidentally left out of the last installment. Sorry, my memory failed me.

I had previously mentioned our little road map, I think. If I didn't, let me bring you up to speed: We had a little road map. Ok. It helped immensely when figuring out the most sensible routes to not actually end up taking after the people that picked us up took us somewhere else entirely. Still however, knowing where we were in relation to service areas, and having an overall sense of distance was comforting. When getting stuck in the hitchhiking doldrums, we could always recheck our trusty little map and think "half an inch left isn't so bad!"

So anyway here's the part I accidentally left out.

When we woke up in that field on our last day of hitching, it was gone. FUCK. We were practically in the middle of nowhere, heading someplace just north of nowhere, and now we didn't even have our map of nowhere.

DOUBLE CAPTION!!!

We may as well have just been floating aimlessly through space like some sort of cosmic tumbleweed. But wait! We'd had it the day before, as we'd checked it just before giving up hitching for the day. It couldn't have gone far, it doesn't even have legs.

I searched for "map with legs." Not exactly what I expected.

So we retraced our steps, and failing to find our map in various piles of dirt, concluded that we must've left it on a table inside the service station.

In we went, perusing the area like a couple of people that aren't trying very hard to find something. Basically we checked the table we sat at and didn't see it. So we started asking around. "Did you see a road map booklet on any of these tables?" as if some teenager working there would say "Oh yes, I've got it right here random smelly stranger! Of course I would save such a specimen, despite similar maps being on sale in this very building!" and they'd hand it over, satisfied that they'd done a good deed.

So nobody inside had it, but there was a janitor outside! He deals with trash more regularly! We asked him if he remembered throwing away a map. He couldn't quite remember. At least, that's all I could surmise from his dismissive grunts. Finally as a last ditch effort, which probably should've been my first ditch effort, I walked back inside to check the trash can nearest the table we sat at the night before. I pulled it out and started digging through it, hopefully with the confidence of some sort of undercover secret service agent looking for important clues, and definitely not some homeless person.

And no way! THERE IT WAS! (Here's a 3rd way to emphasize text!)

It was absolutely soaked through with old coffee, as if a nearby cement truck had accidentally been filled with coffee instead of cement, and this trashcan was the closest receptacle they could use to dump their mistake.

You know how old coffee smells like shit? Well being surrounded in other smelly garbage made it smell FUCKING GREAT!

So, it was both encouraging, as our persistence had paid off, and discouraging, as now we had to carry around a book with sticky shit-smelling pages for the foreseeable future.

You're probably wondering why we didn't just buy a new map.

HEY LOOK PUPPIES!

My Brother and I

2011-01-27T12:36:00.000-08:00

For those of you that don't have a brother, I'll attempt to explain what it's been like over the years.

Ages 0-5
Minimally aware I had a brother, or that I even existed for a good portion of this time period. When I wasn't busy shitting myself however, I somehow found the time to get angry at Mike. My earliest memory involves him, along with some furious rage.

Ok that might've been a bit of an overstatement, but let me explain.

We were moving from Alton, Maine (where you ask? Exactly) to Waterville, Maine. I was a baby, something like fifteen months old I believe. I only remember a few brief seconds, but these involved looking at my surroundings, noticing a car, a big ass awesome truck, my parents, and what's this? Who's this other tiny person? Hmm, he's riding in that big awesome truck. Well I look forward to joining him shortly! Hmm, no wait mother, you've got it all wrong. No, I shouldn't be riding in this honda civic, clearly the fun lies within that other car, you know, where the other tiny person is. Wait, hey..HEY! I WANT TO RIDE IN THE TRUCK WITH THE OTHER TINY PERSON. WHO IS THAT OTHER TINY PERSON?!?! I SHALL SMITE HIM!!

I don't remember anything else. But, I hear I did not enjoy the ride. Once we arrived, my parents couldn't have me crawling around getting stepped on while moving heavy furniture, so they put me behind a gate in the living room. Here is a picture you may recognize.

Unimpressed.

All the while I was presumably still wondering why I didn't get to ride in the big truck with my brother.

Ages 5-10
Life proceeded normally for awhile. At this point I obviously was aware that Mike was my brother, and not just some dude that happened to be around a lot. Siblings tend to get along at this age, and for the most part I remember it happening that way. I would occasionally ask him what the next grade was like since he was one grade above me. He provided me with not much helpful information if I can recall. You see, I am an analytical type of person, while my brother is much more of a "fuck it just go with it bro" type. So while I slowly and nervously adapted to my new surroundings when moving to new grades and schools, my brother seemed to take it all in stride.

"Mike, is 4th grade at the new school scary?"

"Huh? I dunno, maybe? "

"Well what is it like?"

"Pff, I dunno. I don't remember."

As you can see, our very different personalities were starting to become evident. Soon we each found the other to be a total son of a bitch.

Ages 10-18
At this age, we were the epitome of brothers that didn't get along at all. Let's go over the differences.

So, to sum it up, I was a scrawny picky eater band kid that didn't like sports. You may expect someone like that to get along great with a hulking mass of strength that didn't like any of the same shit, but you'd be wrong. We fought verbally and physically all the time. Now, since I was clearly in the lacking strength department (not so much anymore, ladies) I had to be strategic when fighting. A few techniques I remember from over the years:

Getting a full 360 degrees of punching momentum before making contact.

Punching him in the throat. (Ok that sounds terrible, it was kind of an accident.)

Throwing a full glass of water in his face, slamming door, running.

Running some more.

That whole throwing water debacle ended with me running downstairs, outside, and up the street to avoid his wrath. Even after he gave up chasing after me, I waited outside in the street at night for several minutes, while barefoot, before cautiously returning. But hey, I didn't get smacked that night.

A few of his techniques included:

Towel whipping me in the balls.

Completely overwhelming me with his size.

That second one pretty much sums it up. If I was within swiping distance, he could always easily grab me, and just lie on top of me until I submitted. This is what led to my previously mentioned evasive maneuvers.

Ages 18-Current
Complete turnaround. I'm not sure when how or why it happened, but we have gotten along great ever since. If I may get sentimental for a bit, it seems to stem from taking each other for granted at a younger age. You spend so much time with the other that not only do you see it as a given that they're always around, but you sort of end up hating them a little.

But later on, he moved out, then moved to a different state, I was off at college etc. We were both going through some rough shit, and realized we could talk to the other without being judged, something that can be difficult to do even with your closest friends. So aside from the occasional spat, we each stopped hating on the other. Now, we both like the red sox, and share a lot of the same friends. It also helps that he is fucking funny as shit.

He's lost about 70 pounds since then.

All from the beard.

He's still got his eyes on my ice cream though...

This One's my Favorite.

2011-01-26T10:21:00.001-08:00

Here's my favorite comment from the article so far:

Fuck you sir. Fuck you in you oatmeal hating eyes. As of this moment I am enjoying a hearty bowl of slow cooked, steel cut oatmeal. It is delicious and flavored only with my towering hatred for you and for anyone who looks like you. Oatmeal being too good and wholesome for the likes of you, i suggest you breakfast on a bag of fried dicks.