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.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Continuing Internet Vigilantism
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.
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:
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.
 |
| 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.
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.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The Man that Took a Poo, and Almost Killed us All
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.
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:
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.
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.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Weird or Crazy Work Shit
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.
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."
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.
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.
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."
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. |
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."
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
More "FACTS"
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?
(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
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.
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.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Papers Are Worse Than Dog Shit
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MOM!
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!
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!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
This and That
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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