I don't know what's going on.
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Monday, March 31, 2003
I would imagine that any person who has just jumped from an incredible height in the attempt to kill themselves upon impact must have the thought or moment of denial where they think to themselves, "It's going to be OK. Somehow, I'm going to make it." I suppose this concept shouldn't be exclusive to building jumpers, as there are many other methods of suicide that would offer enough time to try and fool yourself into thinking that you'll somehow pull it out. For example, I know that if it was me that had just hanged himself (assuming that I'm in the noose and the impact hasn't snapped my neck and I'm kicking at the chair), I would probably think to myself, "OK cowboy, shoot the rope already." The ultimate moment when I realize that, "There is no cowboy!" would probably be the worst aspect of the whole ordeal.
12:25 AM
Saturday, March 29, 2003
I'm proud to announce that last night I got a girl's phone number. I got digits! I got digits baby! Hell yeah, and I'm gonna call her too. Her name is Amy. I'd post the phone number to prove it, but then you jerks would probably call her, and that would screw it up for me. See, she didn't really give it to me herself. I sorta took it out of the 'Win A Free Happy Meal' fishbowl at McDonalds. I'm still going to call her though...
Also at McDonalds, they are doing some game where you peel the things off the side of drinks and fries and stuff. Kevin took his off, and he'd won some free breakfast meal. I took mine off of my cup, and it was a free sandwhich. He was braggin' about having a better one, so I went up to the counter and told the guy that there must be some mistake, because my cup didn't come with a peel off thingy. He said he thought that was weird, and gave me a new one. I smiled at Kevin and peeled it off. "Sorry, not this time. Please play again." I guess it serves me right, I thought. Since then I have peeled off four other stickers, and they've all been losers. It's Karma; I think I'm screwed.
How awesome would that have been if I'd won the car lying to the guy like that?
10:56 AM
Thursday, March 20, 2003
The War Has Begun!
This war might be the most depressing thing to date. I think I'm going insane thinking about it. It's all so fucking ridiculous.
10:17 PM
Tuesday, March 18, 2003
I added an Iraq Civilian Bodycounter to this site, but the picture for it isn't working yet. I think it's a pretty funny idea. Hopefully the number will get really, really high.
10:54 PM
Monday, March 17, 2003
This is a story I wrote by a gimmick I've been playing with on the T-Town board. It's nothing special, but I figured it would serve as good filler for a blog entry.
5:18 PM
Friday, March 14, 2003
The Negative Aspects Of Meeting Somebody You Know When They're Walking The Opposite Direction.
The Encounter.
Is there a more awkward experience (not counting anal rape) than running into somebody you know while you're walking one way and they're walking the other? Neither of you really have anything important to say, and yet you're obliged to say, "Hey" or "What's up?" or "Up yours, Nigger." It really is one of the worst parts of any day. Most times I find myself just holding my hand up in a weak attempt at a wave. More often than not I'll use, "How's it goin'?" or occasionally, "Hello." It's always good to diversify your greetings, because if you develop the habit of greeting everyone you come across with the same old, "Hey dude!", you make yourself an easy target for impersonations. On the other hand, a trademarked greeting simplifies things immensely. It also, however, helps contribute to one of the most uncomfortable, yet often hilarious, aspects of Meeting Somebody You Know When They're Walking The Opposite Direction.
The Greeting.
This happens to everybody at some point in time. Both humiliating and amusing at the same time, The Greeting is when one person says something like, "Hey, what's up?" or "How are you doing?". The other person, anticipating the greeting to be something different, panics and pre-packages a response in order to get the whole ordeal over with as soon as possible. The problem arises when the pre-packaged response clashes with the initial greeting of "What's up?" or "How are you doing?" It goes a little something like this:
Person A: "Hey, what's up?"
Person B (anticipating Person A asking, "How are you doing?"): "Pretty good."
Person B walks away feeling like the dumbass her or she is, and Person A is just thankful they weren't the asshole this time. There can be infinite variations of Greetings, but the end result is always the same. As awkward as this interaction is, it is most often much more enjoyable than the the next possible outcome of Meeting Somebody You Know When They're Walking The Opposite Direction.
The Conversation.
The name for this experience is ironic, because it isn't really a conversation at all. The Conversation is what happens when The Greeting goes awry. Both parties meet eachother, exchange compatible greetings, and a 'conversation' is formed from a sense of obligation. It's easy to tell when a Conversation is about to occur, because at the moment when both people pass eachother, they will turn to face eachother, and slow their pace. This is the crucial moment. If both parties are in sync and continue on their paths, The Conversation does not ensue. If, however, both parties are not on the same wavelength, and the first person comes to a complete stop, then the second person will be forced to do likewise, and thats when The Conversation strikes. Now both people are trapped, forced to think up bullshit in a weak attempt at making the whole experience less agonizing. Eventually, when they take absolutely no more, one person will look in the direction that he or she was originally headed and force a feeble excuse to walk away. The other individual will be very delighted to escape The Conversation, and will joyously cooperate. Both parties will say their goodbyes, and walk away wiping their brow. Example:
Person A: "Oh, hey Marcus!"
Person B (unable to remember Person A's name): "What's up dude?"
Person A: "So, where are you going?"
Person B: "Oh, I was just going to go get some lunch in the Union."
Person A: "Ah, well that's cool."
Person B (nodding head in agreement): "..."
Person A: "..."
Person B: "So, did you see that show on Fox last night? The new reality show about the bear?"
Person A: "Oh, nope, I didn't get to see that. Was it funny?"
Person B: "Um, I dunno. I didn't watch it; I just read about it in the papers."
Person A: "Heh, oh. Sounds pretty cool."
Person B: "I thought so too."
Person A: "..."
Person B: "Man, I forgot what I was going to say."
Person A: "Heh, yeah. I do that all the time."
Person B: "Dammit, what was I going to say?"
Person A: "I dunno man."
Person B: "Hmmm. Well, I uh, I bet my food's getting cold. I should probably go check it out."
Person A: "Yeah, probably should. I'll uh, see you later Marcus!"
Person B: "Yeah dude, we should drink some beers or something some time!"
Person A: "Right on man."
As harrowing as this Encounter is, would you believe that it's not the worst form of exchange when Meeting Somebody You Know When They're Walking The Opposite Direction? If you answered yes to that question, you're right.
The Realization.
Far worse than The Conversation, more often than not, is The Realization, or the moment(s) preceding the actual event. Sometimes The Encounter surprises one or occasionally both parties, and when this occurs, The Realization fails to transpire. When this happens, both involved are simply lucky. The majority of the time, both people see The Encounter coming a mile away. If they are resourceful enough, they will immediately find a different route to their destination. This rarely happens, however, and both Person A and Person B are like two trains on a collision course, unable to prevent the awkwardness that is to ensue. Person A will spot Person B thirty yards away, and will immediately find something to look at or do to avoid from making eye contact. Person B will do the same, and both people will wait until the moment right when they pass eachother to look up. Occasionaly eye contact will occur while both Person A and Person B are a distance apart, and such a Realization is much more unpleasant. And yet, as awkward as it is, The Realization is is much preferable to the last form of Encounter.
The Total Package.
This is the type of Encounter one dreads finding themself in. As its name suggests, The Total Package is a combination of every aspect previously listed, only worse. There is a Realization, replaced shortly by The Greeting. The Conversation soon follows, and by the time the calamity of errors is over, both Person A and Person B are ready to move to a cabin in Wyoming and slit their wrists. Hopefully now that you're familiar with the steps you'll be able to spot them coming, and if you're smart and luck is on your side, you'll get your ass out of there. You won't get away though, because Person B is everbody. You're bound to run into him or her sooner or later. Face it, you're fucked. Might as well move to Wyoming and slit your wrists.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that I ran into Kevin on campus today.
4:02 PM
Saturday, March 08, 2003
I'm back.
First I should apologize. Being faithful to the reader through updates and posting is one of the keys to a successful blog, according to Biz Stone, author of Blogging: Genius Strategies for Instant Web Content
Hmmm. I'm trying to decide what is worse: me not writing anything on here in almost two weeks, or the fact that I read an article by Biz Stone, a guy who writes self help books about webblogging. I actually have been busy the past couple of weeks, but I've also done a whole lot of nothing. Once you don't post for a while, it snowballs out of control and it takes something special to right the ship. I think last night might have been that something special.
My Aunt Patty was in town, so her, my dad, my grandma and I went to Applebee's to eat and catch up and stare at waitress's asses. My grandma and I both had the All You Can Eat Honey Rib Tips, and my aunt and my dad both got salads. I challenged my grandma to an eat off, and I'm proud to say I beat her ass. She couldn't even finish one platter. To her credit, she did fall asleep halfway through the meal, so I don't know how fair the contest was. My aunt gave me $20, so that was a good thing.
After dinner my dad dropped me off at Temple (I'm not Jewish. It's the theatre building on campus), and I hit up the Masquer's New Play Festival. Most of the plays weren't very entertaining, but there were a couple that I thought were really well done. The main attraction for me was the local improv troupe, The Huge Embarrasing Failures, who were performing between acts. I've been going to improv workshops with some friends in the department, and it's a lot of fun. My goal is to get better and learn as much as possible through the workshops, and then hopefully 'make the team' next fall, because the majority of the members will be graduating. That's a long way down the road, however.
I hooked a ride home with my new friend Jordan, and on the way Nate called and told me to come to the basement of Niehardt, one of the residence halls on campus. A girl I sorta know's band was scheduled to play, and he said there were some cool people there, so I went. There was quite a few folks from the T-Town board, so it was pretty fun. The band playing at the moment was The Hot Carls, some pop-punkers with a little too much spunk. When I got there they were playing a cover of 'Happy Together' by The Turtles, and it wasn't very good. This is what they look like. They stole our family picture idea. I started fuckin' around, yelling random shit like "Boobs!" and "Rock!" The lead singer kept doing all these creative rockin' poses and kicked his leg at parts that were extra hard. Even though they've already accomplished more than I ever will, they still sucked.
We kept taking trips to Ian's car to drink the boxed wine he had in his trunk. It felt like I was in high school again, and although I should probably be ashamed of such alcoholic behavior, it was pretty fun, and the threat of getting caught chugging wine straight from the box made it all the more exciting.
The next band to play was the girl, Amy, that I sorta know's band. She had a choir and she played a little electric piano machine, and it was a pretty cool set. Everybody was standing around a little off to the side, so I dragged this big comfy chair right up front real close, and put my feet up on the stage. It was pretty cool. I heckled the band a bit, and at one point, in the middle of a song, I shouted "More boobs, less music!" People kept fuckin' with me, though. I'd stand up to do an Arsenio fist pump, and they'd try to pull the chair out before I could sit down. Eventually Billy jumped on me, and the back two legs of the chair broke out. Everybody was laughing and taking pictures, and I flipped the chair over and took the other legs off. Almost immediately the guy in charge of the room was next to me, asking what happened and who did it and who's going to pay for it and I'm the guy who is responsible and if they find this I'll get in trouble and you're going to have to pay for this and who did it? I told him it wasn't my fault, and there was no fuckin' way I was going to pay for it. Eventually I convinced him to turn head while I 'stole' the thing. I called Dennis quick and arranged for him to come pick it up, and headed for the parking lot.
I had the chair over my shoulder, and I lugged it up these stairs to the parking lot where I would wait for Dennis and his truck. Who did I run into at the top of the stairs, standing around a car and smoking cigarettes? Why none other than The Hot Carls themselves! I gave them a wave, and sorta stood there silently. They looked at me for a bit, and then one of them finally approached me.
"Alright buddy," he said, "you'd better go take that chair back now." "No way," I laughed, "I stole this. This shit's mine." He looked to his bandmates for support as he continued to try to persuade me to take the chair back. "Look man, I rented that room, and if anything is missing I'm going to have to pay for it. You should probably take it back; you know you can't just leave with that." I was really playing up the fact that I'd 'stolen' it. "Hell no man! Look at this chair. It's terrific. I'm not giving this back." I kept calling them all Carl, and at one point I said to the first guy, "Whoa Carl, don't get all hot on me."
Pretty soon the whole band had me surrounded, the whole time I have this giant purple chair on my shoulder. They kept saying things like, "Give it back man" and, "Come on, don't be a dick dude." It was a pretty cool scene. Finally I set the chair down and walked to the top of the stairs. Down below was a crowd of my friends who were watching the whole ordeal by the doorway to the basement. "Who wants to fight The Hot Carls?" I asked them. Everybody cheered. Billy came up, and I jumped in the bushes and told him to scale the building across from Niehardt so that we'd be able to take them by surprise. He didn't follow orders very well, and just stood there while I made bird calls from the bush. The Hot Carls got fed up and went looking for the man in charge down in the basement. While they were gone I threw the chair off the top of the stairs, and then Dennis came. We loaded it up and he went home, and we left for the girls' place, 'cause they were having a party.
The party was pretty fun. Did some chanting, and more boxed wine was consumed. I got way drunk, way way too drunk. Somehow a hole got knocked in their wall, and I think my shoulder had something to do with. I don't really know though... Nate vomited out the car on the way home, and I threw up this morning. I think my little love affair with that fruity drink from a carton is probably over with for good this time.
Travis is here right now, and come to find out he knows The Hot Carls. His sister Miranda is obsessed with them, apparently. It's too bad he wasn't there last night, 'cause he hates 'em. Anyway, good times.
6:35 PM
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