A Ninja Day's Night

So...I'm really bored. My classes now get out at 12 noon and I have a whole 13 to 14 hours a day to do whatever I want. Strangely, I still feel burned out. I've now been going to school for a full 12 months without any sizeable break at all. That might have something to do with it. Anyway, all this 'freedom' is making me a bit loopy.

Yestderday I tied a teeshirt to my head and ran around like a ninja. I also took pictures for posterity. (see above) I also was in the park yesterday. I dunno why, but it was just one of those moments where you don't want to go home and you have no place to be. So it was the park for me. I got to see the cops break open a car and look in the trunk. I thought I saw a dead body, but it turned out to be a duffle bag with a shirt on top of it. What a let down, the cop looked dissapointed too. Like he woke up and said "Today is the day, I'm gonna see somebody dead!" then got to that car and thought "this is it!!" then the whole thing turned out to be Al Capone's Vault, Vol. 2.

Today I was there again, I hope I'm not becoming some kind of crazy park person. Like the pidgeon lady from Home Alone 2. Nah, I'm too rich and harbor too great a pigeon resentment. But I did find these awesome paths in the woods. In the middle of this park there's like 2 or 3 acres of woodland. Nobody goes in there. Like it's the last remnant of Fangorn or something. But I realized that and went in anyway. It's awesome, I can run around like a wild man and nobody sees me. So I had a damn good time of it. Just got back. Then there was nothing to do, so I wrote this! You read it, you can't UNread it. - Scott

P.S. That's two Home Alone refrences in as many days. What the hell is that all about?

Location, Location, Location

You never really take those old standby cliches seriously. But most of them have a grain of truth buried beneath their worn surfaces. Like old hookers. I learned something today, (man you feel like Doogie Houser when you write that) I learned that real estate applies to everything. Like where you sit in class. Now generally where I sit is the place to be, but there are some feng shui type things to consider. Window seats are always a bonus, particularly the one where I have a view of the blonde's rack.

But when location is really important is when signs are involved. Like wet paint signs. Like "Hey we just painted the front steps like an hour ago so don't go out this way in your favorite shoes signs" Say what you will about my literacy, but that kind of thing catches my eye. It's just for the fact that they put the sign, ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE F*CKING BUILDING. Now, comming from outside it's pretty bloody ovbious that the stairs are painted. The whole glistening in the light of the lamp post thing pretty much cracks that case. But when you're pretending to be a fast food ninja with whopper wrappers on your hands and a black tee-shirt around your head and you jump out the front door of your building, only to almost slip on the admitedly ovbious wet paint it's something quite different.

So thank YOU Cedar Point. Way to go on that one, now if you could just fix that spiked log that's supposed to swing down from overhead when I open my front door you could be a grade A, Kevin from Home Alone booby trap house. Now I'll just go rinse off my shoes in my bath tub...-Scott

The Cloth Symbiote

What's the deal with belly button lint? I've had this conversation once or twice, but I mentioned it this weekend and now it is really bothering me. Here's the thing, sometimes I have belly button lint. Not so bad eh? Not cancer, not even ED. But, here is the twist: it's always blue. Always, I could be wearing a white shirt all day, I come home and and there to mock me is the blue lint. It's even happened to me in a red shirt. How in the hell?

After much research (googling it), I found a compendium of BBL research. Check this. That link takes you to a survey of belly button lint info. Apparently as you get older you get more BBL. Or as I like to think of it, BBL prolongs your life so those who are old are so as a result of BBL. And that's why the percentage goes up as people age. Or maybe, we with the belly button lint are the master race and we naturally life longer. Like the Jaffa and they are our 90% cotton symbiotes. Our cloth like fountains of youth, and to think that fool Juan Ponce de Leon wasted his time searching in Florida. Shoulda worn a tee-shirt Jon Juan...tisk tisk.

Liars, Guns, and Money. Part 1

I don't know if you've wised up and taken my advice to go see Garden State but if you did, you probably noticed how sleazy some of Largeman (Braff's) friends are. Well, compaired to the posse I was hanging out with this weekend, those guys are saints. It all started out with me chatting (read pumping for information) with an old friend from high school. (One side note, how cool is that I'm old enough to have an "old friend from high school. Mesa cool, that's how cool.) And she mentioned that she wanted to see me. I thought it was just an excuse to try to jump my bones, and so gladly accepted.

Then in comes one of my shadier aquaintences, no names will be named, but think long hair, no shoes. Suddenly it's a party at his farm I'm supposed to go to. I'd been to one there once before, and on that occasion I ended up drinking a fifth of rum, starting a minor forrest fire (then trying to smother it with leaves and small brush), and finally realizing that we should have pitched the tent before it got so drunk out, pitching a tent over a sapling. Which was poking the hell out of my back all night. I don't reccomend it.

Anyway this was the type of thing I was expecting. But expectations, like children from Appalachia, don't always come out the way you'd expect. Somewhere along the line I forgot that a normal kid goes kind of wild in college. And a slightly wild kid, goes completely apeshit. It used to be mostly alcohol and sometimes Mary Jane with him, but now there's perscription pills,
marijuana, and mushrooms. Come to think of it, that kinda sounds like toppings on some kind of Betty Ford pizza. His friends were no great influences either. His stoner friends range from the smoked/perscription pilled-himself-retarded guy, to the kinda decent guy who's funny stoned. I met this motley crew at the Shop-N-Save at around 11PM, where they were stocking up on the essentials of the night. Which turned out to be dried appercots, 10 bags of potato chips, a gas can to fill with vodka and drink out of, and liquor.

We set out from the store around 11:30 and maybe got to the field where we were going to camp at about 12 AM. As you might guess, it was dark. Gold star for knowing your times of day. It was so dark in fact that when we pulled up and got out of our cars we didn't even realize that what field we had parked in. We didn't find out until one of them got close enough to bump into and let out a cautious "moooo?" It was a huge, curious cow, and we were surrounded by more of them. The (mostly) city stoner kids freaked out. I was a bit worried myself, I had been eating the angus, and now the angus was angry. Fortunately the angus knew better and I didn't have to eat any raw cow. I still don't know how our headlights missed that.

We moved into a different field and set up camp. Then of course they busted out the drugs. For stoners though, his friends turned out to be pretty good on peer pressure, in fact the one time someone tried to pressure me into doing something 4 other guys jumped his ass about how uncool it was. No peer pressure druggies...this political correctness thing has gotten way out of hand. After consuming enough mind altering substances to consider voting for Bush, the hippies decided that it was time to tell scary stories around the fire. Or try to while 9 other stoned people make fun of you. Eventually the desire for some kind of entertainment won out and the stories began. And while it was supposed to be funny (which it kind of was) what I heard was the most distrubing thing I may ever hear. This is getting a bit long, so it's going to be a multi parter.

Before I end here is that story paraphrased as best I can remember: "Ok, here's the story. Some of you have heard it and were there, so don't ruin the ending. Well me and *I don't remember the guy's name, I'll call him Casey* Casey were heading out to meet some friend at a motel. And we go in and everyone's doing acid, so we do some acid. And we're drinking and stuff, and then we decide to go out and walk around. So, we go out and we're walking down the street and we see this midget. And we're like 'Yo. Midget, what's up' and we get to talking and this midget just has a lot of ideas. We're like this is pretty cool, this midget has something to say. So we bring him back to the motel with us. And we gave him some beer and some acid. And he's having a good time. But a little later he gets up on the table and starts screaming. The midget is just freaking out. We tried to calm him down, but nothing would work...so we ended up throwing him in the closet and blocking the door. Eventually we went to sleep and kind of forgot about him. So the next day we were leaving and somebody was like "Oh yeah the midget." Everyone was pretty worried, so we opened the closet and..."

The ending is mind blowing, and severely wrong. I'm pretty sure someone told me not to repeat this, but it gives you an idea of who I accidently ended up hanging out with. I think I'll leave you in suspense. If I get enough comments I'll just finish the tale in the comments portion of the blog. Let me know - Scott

How much did you miss me??

That's right I'm back, the postings have been a bit erratic lately, but I'm making up for it now. Beware this blog entry is going to be all over the place...

In case you're wondering about the order, listen to the audio first, then read this. Anyway, that was pretty bad. Fortunately from attending RMC I'm used to hanging around nerds and generally defective people. It's like being the last piece of bread in the bag without any mold on it I guess. I just have to stay nice and fungi free, that's my plan.

Anyway, I'll fill you in on what's been up in my world lately. My car stereo broke, through no fault of my own (although I did help it in the transistion...) and I've been listening to my damn portable CD player with headphones. Before you say it, yes I know it's illegal. But it's one of those evil suppressive laws. We let deaf people drive right? Why not the temporarily hearing otherwise engaged I say. I consider it an act of civil disobedience, in protest. I'm like the people in Nazi Germany who tried to cross the border without their papers. THAT's how rebel I am. Until the replacement stereo gets here anyway.

Also, it seems that I'm being Shanghaied by the various people I know to write for things they find interesting. It started with Stevo telling me about a position at the main EQ2 community site (http://eq2.ogaming.com if you're interested). I had been following that site for a long time and to write for it would be amazing. So I applied, posted this blog as my resume and was accepted. Sadly I was so busy, as a working girl on nickel night, and I could hardly reply for another few days and had to think about it (as he explained it, suddenly it was a much larger job than I had guessed) and when I replied it had been quite awhile. I haven't heard back yet, but I'm hopeful.

The second was when my English professor drafted me to write for the school paper. Yeah, that's right I'm going to have my own column. Take THAT world, my opinions are getting published...You know I think I'm going to get myself kicked out of college if I'm not careful with this gig. Hmm, might still be worth it. Things to think about - Scott

Stereotype Alley

You know Tornado Alley? It's in the Mid-West, from Texas to somewhere in Indiana where all the twista's come through. And every hack comic uses it as their closing bit on open mic night "You know who I don't feel sorry for? Those hillbillies who live in tornado alley and are surprised when a tornado destroys their trailer..." yeah, that's what I meant.

Anyway, where I live it isn't so much Tornado Alley (though I'm pretty sure we're in that as well), it's more Stereotype Alley. Where all the Stereo Type's come to live. Let me give you an example. I'm outside in my car driving out of the parking lot, and what should come across my path but a Latin man carrying a 24 case of Corona. Hmmm, 1 for 1. We can do better, then I spied a Black man carring a case of KFC. Doing well, 2 for 2, and finally the kicker a hippy looking guy eating granola.

Wow, throw in a few asian delivery men and you're set. It's just amazing that not only did I have this wonderful diversity of people, they were doing diversly funny things based on ethinic/cultural stereotypes. I love it. - Scott

JoJo is HOW OLD?!

Uh ho. I almost pulled an R. Kelly. Why is this kind of information not plastered across the bottom of the screen on MTV? You're flipping through the channels and you come across a girl that's singing like she's at least Hilary Duff aged. (Not that's she's even as attractive as Hilary, but she seems a bit more alert and less like a facade.) Then later on you find out she's 13! What the hell is this country comming to. I'm starting to believe the whole too much estrogen in chicken breasts. Seriously, this kind of crap has to stop.

Besides, she's THIR-FRIGGIN-TEEN YEARS OLD. What the hell does she have to sing about? "I got a note in class, somebody likes me, do I check yes, no or maaaaybe?" Or maybe something about how she's super psyced to get her braces off!!! And she could do a blues-y song about how she had to eat her mom's meatloaf last night, bummer! That's great, and maybe she could perform at her middle school's variety show, but GET THE HELL OFF MTV. That is all - Scott

Thank you Polaris...

That's right, thank YOU imaginary band that plays the Adventures of Pete and Pete theme song. I'm up to my elbows in crap and I'm wearing flip flops. But you and your insatiable song with it's one line of lyrics garbled so bad no one can decipher them...You have become my last refuge. In the midst of about 80 projects bearing down on me like Delta Burke on an open buffett, you somehow calm me and remind me how surreal life really is. So props to you. - Scotty

P.S. Short post because I'm going out of my mind with stress. And Adult Swim is on. That was also a factor.