My Kinda Lame Audio Post.

Because you care...

Hey there, yeah this is a rip off of Tim's template. But mine has more muted colors and more interesting content. I don't know if I'll move here for real, but I can at least point you in the right direction. www.geocities.com/gmoneydopefly That's my current web-residence. My issue with that locale, is that it looks like shizit. Although I do have lots of flexibility. I may be updating the style soon. Who knows, I might just move all my posts to here. We shall see. - Scott

New Jersey Is Officially A Good State

A certain percentage of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. But for you other poor unfortunate fools, allow me to elaborate on the greatness of this oft mocked state. It's actually a really cool state (and as it turns out a breeding ground for really hot girls.) I mean come on, have you SEEN Pete and Pete? That was shot in New Jersey. And it was one of the best TV series of all time. I still get a kick out of it. It's that clever. Beyond that there's a pantload of movies some of which I'll list, because...why not?

New Jersey Films:

• Clerks
  
• Chasing Amy
  
• Mallrats
  
• 54
  
• (a lesser entry) Cop Land
  
• A Beautiful Mind

If you can overlook Cop Land those are some excellent films that have been very Jersey-centric. Some filmed entirely in New Jersey. But there is one movie dubiously absent from this list, and that is because it warrants a mention on it's own. That film is Garden State. Good movie. Gets it's own sentence. How about that? Finally, it seems NJ has this odd habit of exporting it's really attractive women. I can only guess this is to trick people into comming to the state. Only to find that the more attractive women have already left (and come to Illinois.) So, I don't know if I'd live there. But New Jersey is now in my good graces.

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a SUPERMARKET

That's right. Super. And it's to this market of markets that I go to buy things that keep me alive. These "things" are commonly called food. The glitch I have with this deal is that I don't really make an active list of what I need. And I never go grocery shopping until I'm STARVING. 11 Hungry man dinners and 3 packages of Jello Snack Packs, yeah good meal.

But I've gotten really good over this year of alone-living-ness at shopping. So good in fact that I have a route I take through the store every time. It never fails me. Other shoppers look on in shock and awe as I storm through the aisles like a commando in the bush (ha ha ha, I said bush.) Seriously I use the patented-by-every-kid-who-thinks-he's-awesome ride-the-kart technique. That's high level. It also gets you around faster. In one case it got me around to hitting a very attractive lady's kart faster, but that's really the exception. As a rule it works well. You might think that after a year of living away from the parents the childish joy of buying whatever food you want would wear off. And I would think that too. But it really never did. I still announce loudly that I'll buy what I want and when I want to anyone near by. And that I can eat my dessert first too if I want.

I also enjoy the sometimes akward exchange at the checkout counter. For example once I was buying an FHM Magazine, some jerkey (the literal kind, not the kind people buy FHM for), and some cookies. The thing that makes this funny is that my dad called me at the exact moment and we started talking. So as the old lady cashier was checking my items out I said something like "I'm at Shop and Save...yeah, just getting the essentials." Her reaction was priceless.

Or what happened yesterday. I was buying my usual items (stuff that requires 1-2 minutes preperation). Anyway the conveyer belt sent my groceries down to me I was putting them in a bag. But something struck me as odd. I had put half a cart's worth of food into one bag?? How in the hell. Breifly I thought I had some kind of magical Marry Poppins bag. Sadly my next thought was how good it would be to steal and smuggle things. As I put my 4th salad bowl in it things started to fall out the sides. I was between two seperate bags. Dammit. At least the sexy checkout chick liked it. - Scott

Where ta hell have I been?

The short answer is everywhere. The existential answer is nowhere. And the Tralfamadorian answer is that I have always been in the same place and will be there forever because the moment is structured that way. But screw them I hate that answer. Truthfully the reason I haven't been blogging away like the blogchuck I am is that I am friggin swamped in papers and projects. My school has become a vertible Nazi work camp. But instead of...whatever the hell was the point of work camps, I have to turn out my thought provoking, insightful papers.

I just got back from Garden State which I talk about below so I'll spare you for now. But I will fill you in on what in the blue hell I've been up to for the past week-ish. After AVP my weekend was more or less over. I went drug my feet back to Springfield to start the week over again. Blah blah blah. It was a strange week for me. For many reasons. But the most prominent in my mind was that I couldn't be on time for the life of my childeren this week. In fact in the Nazi work camp I think I would have been killed. Or at least paralyzed. Dumbass Nazis, that wouldn't make me any faster! Oh well, that's why they lost the war.

But yeah, not on time at all. Which put a rush on everything. Or seemed to. Even the morning crap suffered. It's a bit diffrent when you are rushed. Trying to turn a normal colon into a TURDZOOKA 5000 is ill advised. At least without proper coaching and a visit to the doctor. Grahaahahaaaaaa, (the noise I just made) I'masoooo tired. Going to sleep now. Finishing update...tomorrow...hope fully.

24 -23r

I typed that last thing was what happened when I slapped the keyboard out of tired frustration. But I kind of like it. So it stays. Maybe I'll use it later as a bogus mathematical formula. In any case last week was hectic. I finally got through the school week and back onto my weekend life and moseyed back down to J-ville.

I had a chiropractic appointment at the DEATH SPA. Named as such because the place it's at used to be a funeral home. When you go in it still smells like dead people. I was there to get a hip adjustment (yeah yeah I know, what am I like 90?). So after a little massage from their rediculously expensive massage chair it was off to the creepy little room. What was creepy was that the lighting was obviously original. IT'S THE SAME WAY THEY LIT DEAD PEOPLE TO WORK ON THEM! As I lay there I took off my shoes and almost expected they'd put a toe tag on me. It's sort of a disconcerting place if you ask me. Considering that half of the things they do there for the living (hair, make up, skin reconstruction...) they used to do for the dead. Not. Cosher. (btw, for those of you using my site as a dictionary, I don't think that's how you spell cosher.)

So that was Thursday. After that I had most of a Friday to kill before heading back to Springfield. Generally I'd spend the weekend in town. But this weekend I had a dumbass Eagle Scholar event to attend. So I was duty bound to go there. Bah. I didn't do anything too much on Friday except some assorted naked shenanigans. Piqued your interest? Good, I'll continue. The first naked incident occured shortly after Ross pissed me off. He was preparing to take a shower. The shower was running (and had been for the last 28 minutes while he fiddle fuged around.) So I hid his towel and hopped in the shower. I hid behind the curtain. Eventually (after searching fruitlessly for his towel) he decides to get in, but before he does I jump out and scare the hell out of him. Before you ask, yes I do look good naked. Which horrified him even further...horrified with JEALOUSY.

The second of these was after I had actually taken my shower. I was hungry and lo and behold I hear some enchanting melody drifting softly (well, actually kind of shrill-ly) through my open windows. The ice cream truck! And it was playing Turkey In A Straw, not that gay song it was playing last week when I complained that it should be playing Turkey in a Straw! So I ran after it. Sadly I hadn't yet dressed. But I did have my mom's windbreaker and boxers on. I can only imagine what the hell the driver was thinking seeing an unzipped windbreaker and orange owl boxers on a guy chasing him wildly with 5 dollars in his hand. I'm actually surprised he didn't just floor it. But I got my icecream and I was happy.

Finally, on Saturday (the day I'm writing the latter part of this update on(in fact, everything before this sentence is from eariler today (and now it is after I've gone and seen Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. (Also a good movie))) I had my Eagle Scholar shit. How is it that every place I go they want me to become part of their damn machine. Why do I have to be so amazingly talented???? Oh well, at least I get large audiences to perform infront of. I guess it would help to explain that it was an orientation for Freshmen that I had to attend today. It went as well as you'd expect. After that I scooted on down to the local mall. I didn't even have a desire to buy anything I was just excited at the prospect of having a whole day that I could do whatever with. In my mall excursion I wandered into The Buckle. This is always a mistake. However my el cheapo nature lead me to the bargain rack. Sadly, nothing there caught my eye. Doubly sadly, I caught the eye of the damn salesman. Eighty dollars later and I have two shirts. Two. Two friggen shirts. Damn cool guy salesmen. I WANT THEM TO LIKE ME. What can you do? Look cool in your expensive shirts; that's what. Oh, and be more frugal.

One final note, if you ever go to the movies by yourself and end up sitting a few rows ahead of some hotties try not to act like a spaz. It kind of goes without saying. But I want to add this tag line, becareful about how you sit so you don't give yourself a calf cramp. Because if you do and it happens to be a relatively calm part of the movie where nothing is going on and you have excruciating pains in your leg, you're bound to react somehow. My method was to flail around and breathe in and out like Peter Griffin when he hurt his knee. Bad idea. Draws attention like an indian at a klan meeting. That's this man's advice - Scott

Wow

Have you ever seen something that so aptly portrayed life in general that you don't really know how you didn't run into the same situations yourself? Well, as complicated and ill written as that sentance was, it kind of describes my reaction to Garden State also Zach Braff is a really talented guy. Props to you my nigga. Your movie just made my Top 7 of all time list. And good news, it's in the top 5.

I don't think there's a bigger contrast between movies than the one between Garden State and AVP. It's like the difference between a festering pile of cow shit and the most elaborately brilliant work of El Greco. Not alot of similarities. Don't get me wrong, if it sounds like I'm in love with Zach Braff I apologize. That's not the image I'm wanting to portray. But I AM willing to buy the man a hooker and a 6 pack.

Wow, seriously. Go see this movie. I don't care how poor you are. If it's between seeing the film and eating...well at least you'll lose some weight. A wise, skinny man once said that it's a very "generational" film. And at the time I was thinking "Tim, you lanky mad man. I think you just wanted to seem like you're 'hip' and 'down with the kidz in the street'." But now that I've seen it I'd have to agree with the boy. Send your friends, send your second string friends, send your TA's but just don't ask your parents to see it. I don't think it would resonate as strongly with them. Oh well. It's late and I'm rambling. To quote someone I once knew "If you made it this far I congratulate you." Because this has been by far my most worthless entry. - Scott

No Thought vs. No Talent. WHO WILL PREVAIL?

I just got back from AVP, or Alien vs. Predator. I think you can guess how that went. It was like the directors of the so called 'film' decided to squat over the chest of Hollywood and squeeze out a steaming log on it. What. A. Pantload. The movie would make an excelent MST3k. I had a good time tearing it to pieces, and naturally the people around me enjoyed my biting commentary.

The saddest point in the movie was when the writers noticed they were 40 minutes into the film without any established plot, or background. Which they proceeded to try to cram into a 5 minute transistion that there wasn't any plot for. Oh, and why not use annoying cliche's instead of dialogue. Great, cut it, print it. And that's our backstory. It was like trying to put a hat on a decapitated corpse. Yeah, that'll cover it. All better now...

In fact, I think the actors were just so embarassed of the movie they tried to make up a backstory right then and there. "Hey we've got 10 minutes to kill. Anybody got anything we could do?" "Well, lets poorly improv some kind of gap filler inner." "Yes, and well said."

Another annoyance was the archaeologist. Sort of a Daniel Jackson from Stargate meets the voiceover guy from the discovery channel. Following suit with everyone else he talked like a douchebag. Each and every line of this movie was as stilted as a trailer in Louisiana. But this asshole was by far the worst. He teetered between the most painfully ovbious comments and the most terribly wrong statements. For instance; the predator had killed an alien and was using it's acidic blood to give himself "tribal markings". Anoying Archaeologist Boy interjects this gem: "Now he's marking himself."
Very good, now what does the kitty cat say? Then, "...They need us. They use us like cattle to breed more of the aliens" What the hell kind of people use their cattle like that? I think I want to rent out the theater and have this movie playing just to make fun of it properly. Sort of a MST2k+4. It's a working title, lay off me.

One final nail in the coffin of this cinematic dead horse: apparently in Antartica all you need to stay warm is a long sleve tee-shirt. Also, don't worry there is no need to cover your face, nor will your breath won't show up in the air. And if there's an explosion, don't worry. You can easily out run it on foot. You can also out pace hyper advanced aliens of various descriptions. Why not? You're a middle aged scientist, you should be in peak physical condtion. Maybe the movie is better when you're on drugs, it was clearly written that way. BY 10 YEAR OLDS. It's like a script you'd get from kids waiting in line for Yugi-Oh the movie. My advice: wait for the dollar matinees, you'll still feel cheated but at least you'll only be out a dollar. - Scott

Scott Gresham, Man, Myth, Eagle Scholar

Being an Eagle Scholar. Not one of the 3 things in life I take seriously, and so not that important to me. At least not to the point where I actually try or worry too much about it. I just coast on natural skill. Which as you are already correctly guessing leads to hilarity.

I wanted to post just excerpts of this, but sadly it's too hilarious to butcher. So here in it's entirety is my 1st essay (which I had to turn into the advisory department) on how I entered into the Eagle Scholar position. All true and un-edited.

How I Secured an Interview

As the esteemed and celebrated literary character, Harry Potter once said “I don’t go looking for trouble…trouble finds me.” In a sense, that is what has happened here. Although instead of trouble finding me, it is a scholarship opportunity. I suppose a less cryptic method of saying the same thing would be to explain that Rhonda Boeker asked me to participate. I initially had little to no interest in becoming an “Eagle Scholar.” But as Rhonda persisted in beseeching me (practically begging) to supply my own personal brand of wisdom to the project, and as she explained the duties I would be partaking in I decided that it might be worth my time. Another factor in my decision to participate was the fact that I enjoy helping and mentoring people. However a small, but noteworthy dynamic within my decision, was the fact that I found out that I would be the only male in my class, and adding my gender’s unique perspective was very important to me.

I did run into a bit of a problem when, in the end, I did decide to become a part of the Eagle Scholar (ES) program. The predicament was that I had only 2 days to complete my application before it would be ridiculously late. An application and a paper wouldn’t have been much in the way of stumbling blocks, but the third and final aspect of the application was a set of two letters of recommendation. Asking people to write a letter of recommendation with only 1 day’s notice is not generally the best method of securing good comments. Thankfully, my letter writers (Mr.’s Frye and Ross) were as adamant about my skills as ever and their letters, despite a certain hastiness, reflected this.

Next, I filled out the necessary paperwork. This step was somewhat tedious, but nothing could deter my steadfast focus. After the red tape was cut it was off to the part of the application that I would not give me any trouble: the essay. In an inspired one page essay, I detailed the myriad reasons I would want to become and would make a good ES. The composition, fine points of which will not be rehashed in this paper, was clearly enjoyed by those whom it concerned as I shortly afterwards received word that I was to attend an interview.

Subsequent to getting word that I was selected for an interview, and negotiating a suitable time for an appointment, I prepared myself for the meeting. By “prepared” I mean that I ate, slept, and dressed appropriately. When I arrived for my interview I was in a relaxed state of mind and prepared for anything that I might be asked. There really is not much to tell. I simply answered each question as best I could and it seemed that my answers were well received.

Finally, in the vein of what I would hope to get out of the ES experience, I expect to learn to be a better leader, and also a better listener in general. I want to be able to more "effectively communicate" with people to help them with their problems. Not only do I expect to gain from the ES program, but I also anticipate those in my charge to become better for having interacted with me. Through the students encounters with me I expect that they will have an easier time at RMC and gain an ally to turn to for assistance. Even if I, myself, can not directly solve their problems, I can at the very least point them in the right direction...and sometimes the door.

That was what I turned in. Balls to the wall, caution to the wind, queen to f3. I didn't really care what happened with it. But I was still unprepared for what did happen. I looked as surprised as I would be seeing a black guy at the Republican National Convention, but they loved it. In fact the lady who read it passed it around the office. Apparently they just couldn't resist my callous rediculousness. What can you do? Nothing! That's right. Gold star for those who said nothing. That's all for now -Scott

What is up?

Well, that was some weekend I had. Wild in every aspect you'd expect a Scott Gresham weekend to be...wild...in. Yeah. It was a weekend in no way resembling me hanging out at my house, with my parents.

That is, except in for the fact that it was pretty much exactly that. It was alright, I bagged a lot of well deserved rest. It's a strange kind of freedom, but I now know why the caged bird sings. Actually I spent the weekend bored enough that I was expecting the Fantanas to break in my door and offer me an orange soda and a vaguely sexy repititous dance.

Oooone more thing, (1000 cool points to whoever can name that reference) I went and saw The Bourne Supremacy again and sat at a resonable distance from the screen. Which is la te da, why the hell do I care, right? WRONG. I got to confirm my "shaky assed cam" theory. And confirmed it was. But why, why would they intentionally shoot a movie like this? Well I found out when I watched the credits. Apparently there was a union bylaw that states "Every eighteen (18) films Universal Films must hire Cocaine addicted Parkinsons Diseased Cameramen to utilize shoulder and hand mounted cameras in the fiming of the motion picture." Don't believe me? Go back and watch the last movie that fell under this 18 movie curse: Any Given Sunday

That's Hollywood I guess. Too bad it had to fall on this one, because other than that it was an excelent film. Didn't follow the book, but that didn't stop it from ROCKING. It's like Frank from ATHF says "I don't needs no instructions to know how to ROCK." Neither does Jason Bourne my friend. - Scott

How much more no could I say?

And the answer is none. None more no. A general alert to people trying to sell me magazines at my door. Nobody sits at home thinking "I wish I could get a subscription to some B-list magazine, but gosh darnit I just hate to have to cross my threshold." Nobody. Ever. So stop comming to my door with the same lame cool guy tricks and trying to get me to send you to Paris. You aren't going to Paris. You've got a better chance of tricking the make a wish people into having Britney Spears deflower you (hmmm, not a bad idea though) than getting my money away from me. Now if you were selling Online Roleplaying Games...that might be a different story.

Is this Captain Kirks log or what?

Ok, the reason I started a blog was to impart my random wisdom and insight on whatever struck my fancy. Have I done that? NoooOOOooooooo. I've been using it as a journal of my activities. Do I have Alzheimer's? Another emphatic no. So, lets take a break from that for a bit and revel in my insanity.

Today I had a class with a teacher that I really want to like. I do. But she's one of those teachers who has to clear everything with the class first. "Is it ok if we look at some slides?" "Is it ok if I move the test to Thursday?" I get the idea that she was one of those girls who was never in with the cool kids (me) and still wants to be. Tisk tisk. She's like the turkey in the lunchmeat section. There's blogona turkey, ham turkey, chicken turkey. Chicken turkey? Just be yourself little brother, I like you just the way you are. Come on turkey, if I didn't love you I wouldn't draw you. Constantly. On tests.