But I have good news...

This happened to me awhile ago. I was watching something on FOX and it went to commercial and since I couldn't find the remote I decided to watch the commercials. So I'm sitting in my recliner and the most hilarious reality show ad comes on. Tiny House: the love was real, but the house was built too small.

I laughed my ass off. Only on FOX I was thinking. Although I was also looking forward to watching it. I was like this is going to be an awesome show. Then it told me that I could save 15% on car insurance. It's a f*cking commercial for car insurance. CURSE YOU GEICO. I mean I expect this kind of thing from Saturday Night Live, but from Geico? I went from joy to sheer rage in about 30 seconds. Did anyone else get duped? - Scott

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.

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.