I Wanted To Call You Stupid, But I Thought It Would Be In Bad Taste

You know who you are.

Wait. No you don't. Are you even real?

Is this real? I mean, like, seriously, man, yeah. What's reality anyway?

Dig it! All you fitting in this box is like seriously freaked up.

The weather was absolutely crazy yesterday. First it was just cloudy, then it drizzled, then it rained, then it cleared up, then it rained and hailed and stopped and started again and got windy and the rain got stronger and stronger and stronger and stronger and then it stopped.

Whew, I'm out of breath.

(I'm actually not, but don't tell anybody. It ruins the illusion.)

I miss you, GOB.

So That's Why You Said You Had To Meet That Ghost

After yesterday's blog, I spent a lot of time reminiscing. The first thing I went to was the time Nic Bettis, Jomar, someone else and I were sitting under the stairs in the arts building. Jomar had a deck of cards and told me to guess what card he would pull out of the deck. I guessed the jack of diamonds, and lo and behold he indeed drew the jack of diamonds. Bettis started calling me a witch after that.

Then I tried to think back and access earlier memories (as I've said many times to basically everyone, I remember next to nothing from before freshman year). The best I could do was remembering that in fifth grade I was on the news (although you'd never know it). They were doing a piece on the swale we so poorly constructed. Katie Ward was being interviewed, and I was way in the background, demonstratively kicking mud off of my shoes.

I also spent some time remembering the first time I met people, so I guess it's a good thing I have virtually no friends left from elementary and even middle school. Wait! This just made me remember something earlier. It was either first or second grade (first, I think) and I did a really short martial arts thing that Taylor was also in. Everybody was disappointed with the instructor because he wouldn't break any bricks, even though it was one of the first things he talked about being able to do.

Huzzah memory!

(Angry part of a Rage Against the Machine song)

I'm rereading House of Leaves. Woo! Tell your friends about me. Or don't, if you're ashamed of being my friend.

But This One Had a Live Raccoon Inside!

Kudos if you know the reference.

I got to blow a guy's mind yesterday. I was hanging out with Dylan and some of his friends at one of their houses. One guy looked familiar, but I couldn't place it. We were watching Pineapple Express when Dylan got a phone call, and although he extended the invitation to McMenamins for happy hour, nobody was very hungry, or was broke like me (actually, I was the only one that was broke). So Dylan left and I sat and watched for a while longer before I decided I was way too hungry to not be at home.

And then it happened: I remembered where I knew the guy from. He was the other trombone player in the pit from the random production of Les Mis I did two years ago. I informed him of this, and it blew his mind. I know it did. He told me so.

Incidentally, Mason's boyfriend was also part of the cast.

Talking about being hungry made me hungry. Or maybe that's just because I haven't eaten today.

Crazy, right?

I Don't See Any Method At All, Sir

Boy, it sure is hot today - if by hot I mean windy and by today I mean today.

I was supposed to get away from wind when I left the gorge, dammit. You've disappointed me in every possible way Eugene, even though I like you and you really haven't let me down all that much. It's just not working out.

Happy National Pretzel Day, everyone. I don't have any pretzels, though; only pretzel sticks, and everyone knows they're evil because they're vaguely remiscent of a phallus. To the stake with pretzel sticks! But wait - the stake is also vaguely remiscent of a phallus.

...To the stake with the stake!

I got rickrolled by Dollar Tree on Saturday. I don't know how to feel about that.

Good News Everyone!

After a week of awful weather, today it's fantastic and everybody's busy. I guess I'll go for a walk. But first, I'm doing this.

Any of you big enough Futurama fans to have read the title in Professor Farnsworth's voice?

I don't have internet or cable in my apartment anymore. It's frustrating.

There's a flier for a restaurant called Spaghetti Warehouse that's free of spelling errors in all but the one place that actually matters.

What?

In all seriousness (no, seriously), I have no idea why I suddenly got back in the swing of making posts. Last time was because I was bored and it looked like if I went anywhere there'd be a reenactment of The Wettening from Invader Zim (get a body bag; the seriousness of this paragraph didn't make it. I'm sorry). I doubt you read this (you certainly don't follow) Peter, but I will get that back from you, along with my still mysterious 2008 Christmas present. But today's not like that. Maybe I'm still bored. Seriously you guys.

I always thought having an eidetic memory would be fantastic. Then I realized that I'd rather stay away. You get to figure out why. Or (why) not.

I tried to make three labels of Orange on this post, but it wouldn't let me.

Orange.

Subspace Fractures and You

I deleted the poetry I put on here. A blog is no place for poetry. Technically, a blog isn't even a place.

I woke up at 8:00 this morning and I haven't eaten all day. That's not good, but I'm tired of making sandwiches, and I don't have any cereal. Well, I do, but it's awful, so I'm not going to eat it. I guess I could make chicken or eggs (or both, for the ultimate culinary quandary!), but I probably won't.

Are you bored? I'm taking a survey, but don't tell anyone. It's a secret.

Living alone is making me a bit crazier. I mean, it's just boring. I talk to myself when I walk anywhere. It's more just trying to process things externally, but I'm sure I seem crazy to people in my wake.

"Did you see that guy?"
"I'm blind, you jackass."

Have you ever tried it? It really works, or at least it does for me. Seriously. Although the whole not stopping when you pass people thing is optional - optionally required, that is.

Did you know Alex Cason shaved?

Are you bored now?

Two Drunk Men

(Two drunk men are rifling through DRUNK MAN #1's basement.)

DRUNK MAN #1: Wait, what are we doing again?

DRUNK MAN #2: We'rr lookin' for somethin' to play russian roulette with.

DRUNK MAN #1: Oh. Right. Was that my idea... or yours?

DRUNK MAN #2: I think it was yours.

DRUNK MAN #1: Mine?

DRUNK MAN #2: Yeah. Yours.

DRUNK MAN #1: Oh. Okay.

DRUNK MAN #2: What?

DRUNK MAN #1: Well, it's just-

DRUNK MAN #2: What?

DRUNK MAN #1: I don't think I have a gun.

DRUNK MAN #2: You don't?

DRUNK MAN #1: No, I don't.

DRUNK MAN #2: Well dammit, what'rr we doin' here? I've got a gun at my

house. In my attic, in fact.

DRUNK MAN #1: Well sorry... I'm a little high right now.

DRUNK MAN #2: Yeah? I just did a bit of blow.

DRUNK MAN #1: Will this work? (He holds up a crossbow.)

DRUNK MAN #2: Sure, that'll work.

END SCENE