car alarming

Probably my biggest annoyance that has happened to me in the last month was someone breaking into my car. There are a few things wrong with this. First of all, I do not own anything valuable enough to steal; I have a beat-up 1999 Toyota Camry; and I was parked next to a brand new Mercedes that made it through that night unscathed. I do not know what these thieves were thinking because the best thing they could have gotten out of my car was a Ke$ha CD. Wait, I mean a… manly CD. Anyways, the punks stole my change. Oh no!

But the worst part of the whole thing was they broke the lock on my passenger door. Not only did they break the lock, they made it so the door no longer opens from the inside, or the outside unless you’re using the key. Nothing like pulling up to the restaurant with a hot date and saying “hey, umm… don’t try and get out yet because…you won’t be able to.” Nothing about that is creepy at all!

The situation isn’t much better when I have a guy in the car with me either. In an attempt to look tough, I should probably start carrying a tool box and a football with me so I look real masculine while opening the door for another dude.

why i hate the winter olympics

The winter Olympics take over NBC every 4 years. It forces Al Roker to freeze his butt off for two full weeks, and for what? So we can watch a guy lie on a board next to other people on a board and see who gets to the bottom first? I can do that at any hill with snow on it.

The Winter Olympics are just glorified hobbies with people competing against the only other people who even tried to do what they do. Don’t understand my point? Well let me ask you this: Have you ever luged? Or Curled? Or bobsledded? Most likely you have not, because all of the people who have tried these things are currently competing in the Olympics and can’t read this blog.

They are the only ones who ever tried these events, and that is why they are Olympians. The field of competitors is so small that of course they are going to be the best.Everyone knows if they can run a 100yd dash fast. Or swim across a pool fast-Because everyone has tried it. Which is why I can relate to the summer Olympics. Because I know for a fact I can’t do any of the things that the people do in the summer Olympics. (With the exclusion of the coxswain of a rowing team, I mean seriously...his only job is to say "Row" over and over) Seen here on far right:

Give me a week and the proper equipment and I could be an Olympic caliber curler. I mean, I’ve swept my fair share of kitchens, I think that gives me an edge. Give me a steep hill and a greased up trash can lid and I could give those lugers a run for their money. However I do give credit to the tandem luge teams. Anyone that is willing to dress up in skin-tight, florescent colored, body suits and lay on top of their partner with nothing between them and a manmade hill but an inch of fiberglass, is an athlete in my book.

With all of that being said, how about add some events we can all relate to?

-Snowman building: Judges grade by size, cuteness, and speed of it being built.

-Walking on ice- Athletes must wear street clothes, carry a coffee, and be in a rush-First to get across without falling, or spilling coffee wins.

-Window Defrosting- Must scrape windows, and defrost them. First to back out of parking spot in a crowded lot, wins.

-Snowball fight- Simple. Make, and throw as many snowballs at your enemy in allotted time.

February 11, 2010

My life has been extremely boring lately. Maybe it’s the winter weather, or the fact that I only have classes two days, limiting my human interaction. Whatever the reason, my life has lacked pizzazz and that is why I have not blogged. Hopefully something blog-worthy will happen soon. (unlikely). This blog begins with a recap of my morning, and then goes into a live blog that I did in class.

I woke up this morning at 7:43 a.m. It was my first miracle of the day. You see, I set my alarm for 7:40 a.m., woke up when it went off for long enough to shut off that horrible noise, and then back to sleep I went. By sheer luck, I woke up 3 minutes later when my remote fell off my bed and broke on the hard floor.

I figured that was a sign that I needed to wake up and get ready to go to class. By “get ready,” I mean put a hoodie on over what I wore to bed, slip on my shoes and go to class. Today this was a poor decision because I wore shorts to bed. Lately I have been attending class looking like Kevin McCallister when he first woke up and realized he made his family disappear. As soon as I walked out the door I was kicked in the face by 20-degree gust of air that sent a chill up my exposed lower leg.

I chose to bring my laptop with me today, even though not one of my classes requires doing so. I went to the cafeteria, and ate breakfast alone. Biscuits ‘n’ gravy, and cherry Pepsi was my meal of choice. I enjoy eating breakfast alone because I am the opposite of a morning person. I hate everyone and everything for about 1-2 hours upon waking up. I sat in the cafeteria for about 10 minutes and laid judgment upon every person eating in the cafeteria. Thoughts like “just because you lift weights does not mean a sleeve-less shirt is necessary in 20-degree weather.” “Look at me I wear a big, furry, colorful toboggan because I never got attention as a child and now I am desperate for it.”

I grabbed a coffee before going to my first class because chicks dig guys who drink coffee; it makes them think you’re mature. Well, that’s not my real reason, I am now addicted to caffeine. But all of the sudden, a bullet was shot through my whole “chicks dig it” idea, when I tripped over my own feet leaving the cafeteria and splashed a sizeable amount of the coffee on my sweatshirt. So now instead of being a mature coffee drinker, I’m just a clumsy kid trying to act old. Wonderful.

My first class of the day is Ethics. I am currently sitting in class after taking a pop quiz. We were required to write an essay about the previous class discussion. Here is a picture of what my notes were from last week:

Needless to say I was in trouble. Luckily, the girl next to me told me a few bullet points of what I need to include in my essay. My professor, who would play Cleveland if Family Guy ever casted humans to make a real-life version of the show, talks non stop for both hours of the class. Next to him, is a sign language interpreter who translates everything he says for about a deaf student in the front of the room.

The only problem with the interpreter is she is just sitting there because the deaf student is asleep. The kid behind me just kicked over my coffee, and it spilled onto my shoe. So now I have coffee on me from two separate spillings. Basically, I had enough coffee to make my breath bad and spill half of it on myself but not get the benefit of caffeine. Success.

I am now in English class, or ENG 231, if you wanna get technical. I am typing rapidly so the teacher believes that I am documenting what she says. To the naked eye, I probably look like the most attentive student in the class, as the majority of the class sees more of their inner eye-lids than the teacher’s lecturing.

I make it look like I am taking notes by looking up repeatedly then looking back down at my computer. This makes it appear that I am conscientiously copying down everything my professor says, but in reality I am going back and fourth between Facebook and this document. My teacher is an older woman, nice as can be. She reminds me of a white Oprah, with a hint of Barbara Walters, but boring as can be. If it wasn’t for this computer, I would be using my desk as a pillow right now. She just called on me and asked me what I need to change in a sentence on the worksheet she just handed out. I responded “uhhh.” Somehow her 65-year-old ears thought I said “nothin” and because the sentence required no additional punctuation, it resulted in her thinking I am a genius. Accidental success is the second best form of success (behind earned success but ahead of reality show success).

My favorite thing about college (not literally) is how professors give you breaks during class. They have to know that our breaks consist of everyone going into the bathroom and talking about how much the teacher sucks. Often times about half the class leaves during the break, leaving the teacher flustered and offended.

Well, my 3^rd class of the day was cancelled and my final class couldn’t have been less eventful so that’s all I have for today. If you read all that, I love you.

dont get too excited for this blog entry

Its 1am Sunday night and I am writing because I just decided an hour ago to begin my final essay for my religion class. Now get off my back, its due Tuesday, not tomorrow. Phew. But the topic is “The 5 functions of theology and the strengths and weaknesses of each.” As exciting as this sounds, I had to take a break. I have a serious problem with writing about boring things so I take excessive amounts of breaks to check facebook, get some food, or ya know… rearrange my entire room. Moving my bed, desk and dresser from one side of the room to the other really gets the brain firing on all cylinders. But truthfully, my brain could be sopping in Ritalin and I still wouldn’t be able to focus on this boring of a topic. If you happen to be an expert on this topic, please feel free to jump right in with some substance for my paper. I’m about one more writer’s block away from writing “WWJD? Not give me a bad grade on this religion paper,” and turning it in like that.

On the Brightside, my room looks great, and I freed up a ton of space to do really exciting things. Like sitting on the floor or… vacuuming? I don’t know why I need space in here, to be honest.

Before:

After:

My roommate goes home every single weekend, thus giving me the room to myself. Which sounds like some great alone time. But I’ve literally been in my bed since Friday except for eating and using the bathroom. The nightlife at this school is about as poppin’ as a night at the polygamy ranch. It’s tough to come up with riveting blog topics when the most human interaction you have for three days is seeing someone in the hall on the way to the bathroom.

I am currently listening to Christmas music on Pandora. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I was home for the Thanksgiving and spent much of it getting in the Christmas spirit. But since I’ve gotten back to school I feel like I’ve left Whoville and have been on Mount Crumpit. Someone decided to get in the spirit by spraying that fake snow stuff on the windows in the lobby of my dorm building. But don’t worry, someone took it upon them self to spice up the décor by draw a penis in the fake snow. I can now totally relate with Faith Hill when she asked “where are you Christmas?” (Sorry you had to see this:)

9 days and counting until I go back to Whoville (home :)

tiger's a cheetah

Okay, I feel like I need to talk about Tiger Woods. I don’t want to beat the dead horse on the topic, because Elin did enough beating for all of us. Elin did the one thing Phil Mickelson has never been able to do, she beat Tiger. I will try to do this without too many golf puns, but don’t be Tee’d off if I do… oops.

It started with an accident. The best driver on tour drove straight through his own yard, over a fire hydrant, and into a tree. And even Tiger couldn’t chip his way out of this rough patch. “Allegedly,” Elin chased him down the driveway while he drove away, smashing his windows with a golf club. Tiger denies such allegations, but shattered back windows, a cut up face, and multiple mistresses would say otherwise otherwise.

Tiger was forced to pay $164 for reckless driving. I wonder how he even pays that? Does he write a check? Because the signature on the check would be worth more than what the check was written for.

A voicemail is circulating that begins with someone saying “Hey, its tiger.” In his defense, it could have been any Tiger. Maybe it was Tony? This voicemail was to a girl named Jaimee Grubbs. If spelling the name “Jamie” with two E’s doesn’t tell the story, the fact that she was on the show “Tool Academy,” does. This girl is the epitome of class, oh wait… epitome means opposite right?

Tiger went Letterman on his wife and she went Rocky right back at him. I can’t say I blame her. She’s better looking than all of these “mistresses” anyways. She’s gotta feel like she missed the cut despite being a hole in one and them being pars.

Maybe Tiger should have been sponsored by Adidas, so then he would go by “anything is possible.” Like, you know… a celebrity marriage not ending in divorce. But instead, he’s sponsored by Nike, so really he had no other choice but to “just do it” with all those girls.

However, I believe with time Tiger will be fine. He'll will put a house on Elin’s finger and win a million more tournaments and this will all be old news. In 50 years Tiger’s game with the ladies may be out of the majority of people’s minds, but this will never be forgotten:

planes, trains and automobiles. actually just planes

On Tuesday I traveled home from school for the first time since moving there August 15, 2009. I had been growing quite tired of hickory (who woulda thought?) and I really needed this break. I encountered many things so far on my first homecoming but I’ll start off with my flight home for right now.

As everyone does, I was sitting in the terminal eyeing the fellow passengers waiting to board the plane. I noticed a family of screaming children and strung out parents who had no control of those kids. I added them to the mental list of people whom I hope I don’t sit by. Then my eyes scanned to a group of girls, close to my age, all seeming to be anywhere from very attractive to decently attractive. I added them to my mental list of people whom I hope I end up sitting by. While I’m scanning the crowd I hear a raspy old grumpy voice say “get that hippie to move his drink so we can sit down.” I quickly looked around to see the hippie whom the old bag was talking about, not seeing one; I grabbed my drink and took a sip. As soon as I lifted my cup off the seat next to me a fat butt squeezed tightly into a pair of old slacks dropped into the seat like it had been dropped from 10 storied above. The entire line of seats shook, and so did my mind as I realized I was the hippie the old lady was talking about. Now I admit, I have longer hair, but I was not wearing tie dye and marijuana was no where near my body, so calling me a hippie was completely uncalled for.

Sooner than I can wrap my head around the idea of being called a mean name by someone born during the depression, the plane began boarding. As I waited in line I began to find more people whom I wouldn’t mind sitting by; guy with laptop watching stepbrothers, overdressed, but attractive girl, etc. I made my way to my seat, past the smug first classers, already sipping on their tea and resting their head on pillows. As I made my way from the first class section to my seat I began to realize there are other, unofficial “classes” on planes.

You see, the people who sit up front, just behind the first class, might as well be the first class because they get to board first, they get off first, and I’m sure every now and then a stray cookie makes its way from first class to the front few coach rows.

Then you have the middle of the plane, or the “emergency exit” class. These people have a sweet deal because they get to stretch their legs and in the common case where the plane crashes and you are somehow able to escape, they got the best chance of getting out before the thing explodes.

And finally, there’s the back or the “ghetto” of the plane. Sure you have a short walk to the bathroom, but you also have the aroma of poop flushed into a tank with a miniscule amount of water. It takes half an hour to actually get off the plane once and lands and you are last to get your snacks from the flight attendant. The worst part is, you think you’d get your snack first because the flight attendant camp is in the back, but no.. they bring the cart to the front and work their way back.

When I got closer to my seat I knew who I would be sitting by. I had already passed the girls, the strung out family, and the guy watching stepbrothers, and I see one opening next to the old couple who had judged my character just minutes before. Sure enough, my seat, 25F was tucked in right next to the old couple, in the ghetto.

I made the head nod acknowledging my seat was the one they were obstructing and neither of them moved. They both looked at me as if I was telling them the early bird special was from here by cancelled permanently. Eventually, when they realized they had no other choice, they got up and let me sit down. The smell of ben-gay and baby powder filled my nose and for the rest of the trip, complaints filled my ears. “It is too dark in here I can’t see!” “When is that stewardess, I’m thirsty!” “This flight is too long, we could have driven it in this amount of time.” “This is horrible turbulence, I might never fly again.” The complaints flew faster than the plane and my iPod could not go any louder. This couple could possibly be more bitter than Jon and Kate Gosselin.

When the plane landed, my favorite thing happened as it does on every flight I have ever been on. The seat belt light went off and everyone on the plane stood up. It amazes me that people in the back of the plane insist on standing hunched over with their head wrenched to the front of the plane to see how long they have to wait. Do they really think standing up with your back hunched under the air vents is going to get them off the plane faster? Oh well. I will update you on the rest of my trip home when I get the chance. Over and out.

psychology makes me go insane

I am currently blogging because I am in a 2 hour Psychology class and the internet is down. So to keep my sanity, I will be writing nonsense to occupy my time. Just to give you the setting, my class has 26 students in it (my largest class) and a young man in the front is wearing a fedora. My professor, although a nice man, has the exact same personality as Milton from Office Space. His breathing resembles that of a bulldog after an afternoon of playing fetch. He has the blackest, bushiest eyebrows you’ll ever see and a thin gray comb over above that forest-like eyebrow situation.

A sigh of relief just washed over the room as the internet connection has just came back. I’ll keep writing though, because no one is on facebook to talk to and I can tell the girl behind me is reading what I write. Now, likely she is embarrassed and will look away for a second as if I am watching her, but the truth is she won’t be able to look away now because she won’t know what I’m saying about her. The girl next to me is one of those she’d-be-hot-if-she-didn’t-wear-windbreakers-to-class kinda girls. I mean seriously, a windbreaker…really? I know they’re practical but can you really stand the sound of whooshing with every move you make? I’ll take a brisk breeze through my hoodie over a fluorescent colored garment that blocks some of the wind any day.

Another trend I have not yet been able to wrap my mind around is girls wearing rain boots. I understand it is raining, but really are you that tempted to jump into a puddle that you need to get waterproof boots up to your knee? From Where I am sitting I can count 7 girls wearing these. The girl to my left has leopard print, LL Bean Brand rain boots, but get this: there’s a heal on them. What is the purpose of this? Added discomfort? Attempted achilles tendon shrinking? Here’s a rule of thumb: Are you going fly-fishing? No? Is there a flood? No? Then leave the boots in the closet and put on your flip-flops and go out the door. I’m tired of people trying to be trendy and unique. Unique is not wearing something weird that everyone wears. That ruins the uniqueness and just makes you a lame follower.

The girl in front of me to my left is playing Solitaire. She has 3 moves that I can see from here that she can perform, but she appears to be flabbergasted at the situation she is faced with.

A young man a few seats up to my right is currently Skyping with whom I assume to be his girlfriend. She also appears to be in a classroom and they are just smiling at each other with this look on their faces as if what they’re doing is so naughty that its funny.

As cliché as it is to make a Farmville joke, I will anyways. The ginger a few rows over is currently plowing his fields or something of the sort on Farmville. He is also chatting with what appears to be 4-5 friends on Facebook at the same time. It reminds me of a busy businessman the way he’s working and answering messages ever so frantically.

The girl to my left and 4 seats up is on looking at someone’s pictures on myspace. Did I just time travel to 2006? If she opens up her AIM buddy list I’ll lose my marbles.

Update: Solitaire girl is still staring at her solitaire game like Nicolas Cage staring at the Declaration of Independence looking for a secret code. I hope she is asleep or she is just a moron.

Windbreaker girl is currently looking at graduation pictures on that website that they send to you on a postcard after graduation. She clearly misses high school. That or she is as bored as I am. Or maybe she is looking for a new way to protect herself from the cold, one that is a little less 90’s perhaps?

Well I can tell Professor Milton is winding this lecture down, maybe he’ll let us out early so he can go burn the school down. That’d be convenient for me. I might live blog my classes more often from now on. I doubt anyone will be interested in it. But at least I will be entertained. Over and Out.