Horror Movie Survival Guide

Even though October is my second favorite month, Halloween is one of my least favorite holidays. By middle school the holiday had lost most of it's allure to me. By high school, I was generally disinterested in it. However, I'm going to try not to be the proverbial Scrooge of Halloween this year and try to get "into the spirit" of things by doing a somewhat Halloween-oriented blog.

We have all seen horror movies at one point or the other. I personally don't care for them as I tend to ruin it for other people attempting to watch the movie. I do enjoy really bad and corny horror movies when I can get my hands on one. I don't think there is such a thing as a "good" horror movie without it being awful in every respect to the art of film. Regardless of what you define as a good or bad horror movie, they all tend to share a similar formula in how people die or get killed. This post will hopefully help you avoid dying in horror-movie-related ways by following my carefully thought out advice.

If you find yourself in a situation where a psychotic serial killer is on the loose (or find yourself in the midst of a zombie or alien invasion, although this will mostly apply to serial killer scenarios), here are some basic steps to follow:

1. Start making friends with people who are extremely beautiful or part of some sort of minority. Extremely beautiful minorities are a bonus. It's common knowledge that minorities and beautiful people have the lowest rate of survival against psychotic serial killers. Surround yourself with these human shields to buy you some time while you figure out a clever (or implausible) way to thwart your potential murderer.

2. It's also helpful to start befriending obnoxious assholes, stuck-up girls, and popular public figures. After your minority friends are toast, the next in line are (and not necessarily in this order) stuck-up college girls, obnoxious frat boys, crooked local politicians, surly authority figures, and local celebrities. Depending on the efficiency of the killer, these layers of people could score you up to a night and a half of survival. That's way past the average!

3. If you're ugly or out of shape, this does not count you out as a potential target. Usually the ugly and the obese are one of the last people to go. But somehow the serial killer always manages to cleverly trap this group with cake or promises of free plastic surgery. To avoid this demise, keep in shape but don't look bad or great. Shoot for mediocre or average. This will surely increase your chance of survival by leaps and bounds.

4. Ladies, this advice is specifically for you. It's no coincidence that a woman usually ends up surviving serial killer, zombie and alien invasion in the end. However, many, many women are killed off in the process by the end of the movie. Here is a small list of things to avoid  in order to increase your chances of being the last pair of ovaries standing:
 
    i. Avoid showering alone in your empty house/apartment knowing full well that your friends are far away, dead, or mysteriously absent. Until the whole "people dying randomly" crisis is over, it's best you avoid showering altogether.
    ii. Avoid locker rooms. Seriously. Whether zombies are eating your friends, or a serial killer is offing your high school crush or aliens are destroying your hometown; now is not the time to go to the gym. Especially avoid high school and college lockers rooms. Nude deaths are not uncommon in these areas.
    iii. Avoid that seemingly nice guy you just met. He might say off-putting things like "I'd kill to be with you." Or "I'd die a thousand deaths if you would just kiss me." There is a 50/50 chance that this man is the serial killer. On the other hand, he might just be a nice awkward guy who might help you survive 10 extra minutes by sacrificing himself. Don't take the chance. Avoid strange men and their charms.
    iv. Avoid hot and tempting sexual encounters at all costs. Something about absurdly violent, high casualty situations makes women uncontrollably sexual. I don't know the science behind it, but horror movies don't lie. Half the women in the movies die during or after sexual transactions, usually in the bedroom or shower. Of all times to control your generally dormant urges, now is the time to keep that shit under control.
    v. Avoid alcohol or drugs. Drunk people in general are no help during these events. Drunk chicks are just sirens that help serial killers track your group. Stay sober, stay alive.

5. In the movie "Zombieland," the main character emphasizes that cardio is the key to surviving a zombie attack. This is possibly the best piece of advice I can pass down to you. Keeping in shape will help you outrun zombies or potential serial killers (but probably not aliens). Do not jog! Seriously. People jog to their hideouts from a serial killer who just chase after them at a light pace. Leave nothing to chance. Have the ability to run like hell and don't look back. This method only works if you don't run directly to a closet or enclosed space.

6. Do not investigate weird noises in your empty apartment or oddly silent rooms. If you are one of those insatiably curious types, your odds of survival have just been cut in half. Do not investigate tapping noises, foot steps or faint heavy breathing sounds.

7. As mentioned in #5, do not hide in closets or enclosed spaces. Serial killers, zombies and aliens all have enough intelligence to figure out that you are hiding somewhere stupid like a closet, a bath tub with the curtain pulled and air vents. If mindless, brain-eating zombies can find you in a closet, then your hiding place is both obvious and stupid and you deserve to be the next victim. Avoid enclosed spaces!

8. Telephones don't work. They never work. Don't waste your time with the pay phone from 1984 or the land line of your home. Cell phones are also useless as they will somehow have no service. Your foe has probably already figured out a way to cut off easy communication so don't waste your time.

9. Don't waste your time with the police or military. This always ends up being bad news. They are usually both wiped out, corrupt, or incredibly useless. You can take your chances but there is a high probability of failure and death.

10. Learn how to use weapons and/or know how to fight. Every movie, someone has the chance to put an end or delay to the catastrophe. Usually this is botched when someone does not know how to aim a firearm at point-blank range or does not know how to stab in deadly areas. Knife-wielding is always the most embarrassing. Everyone always cuts the arm or leg. You don't have to be a doctor or a geek to know that this will not kill any serial killer, zombie or alien. If you can't operate a firearm, knife or even a blunt object, then at least know how to kick something square in the junk. It may be your last hope.



Well, that is all the advice I can offer. If you can offer more or better advice, please leave a comment.

Hope you enjoyed my blog!

Have a happy and safe Halloween, everyone!

Fast-Food Funeral

Today, one of my co-workers mentioned that my driving is crazy. He saw me driving on the freeway last week and thought I was "Speedracer." I disagreed. I remember the day he saw me driving. I was actually only going the speed limit passing people up. Everyone was driving slow because a highway patrol car was ahead. I fearlessly led the way by going exactly 65 MPH while all the other pansies went a safe 60 MPH. After I explained this to him he agreed to my view. He then mentioned to me that those types of driving days were over for him. He couldn't risk getting a ticket or an accident since he had a wife and kids. I then agreed with him. He shouldn't be driving crazy knowing he has a family that looks to him to provide.

I don't drive crazy. But if I died as a result of crazy driving, I can't help but think of how funny my funeral might be. I know I've made other humorous posts about my funeral, so let me reiterate this is not a cry for help or a death wish. I just think of ridiculous things for funerals because I think they are so stuffy and sad. I wish funerals were more about the celebration of life rather than the tragedy of one's end. This blog is for comical purposes only and in no way reflects preposterous notions of looking forward to my own funeral. Anywho, now that I've properly disclaimed this blog; on to my thoughts.

I think my funeral would be a small one consisting of close friends and family. But it would be funny if fast-food representatives showed up too. Nothing crazy or big like the CEO of Wendy's. But maybe a few regional presidents of various fast food chains or several local fast food chain managers would show up to pay their respects. I've pumped enough money into the industry that it would practically be disrespectful for them not to show. I can imagine the eulogies now:

"Johnny wasn't a tall man. He wasn't a rich man. He wasn't even a smart man. But he was a hungry man. He often treasured the delights and company of a Wendy's bacon cheeseburger and crispy chicken nuggets. The dollar menu served as his friend and confidant that he kept as close to his heart as the same plaque that clung to his vessel walls. Although we will no longer be receiving his monetary business, we will still think of him fondly and remember how he kept us all going despite the harshest economic recession since the Great Depression."

That one would be a real tearjerker. I would probably sob inconsolably in my grave if I heard that. After the fond farewells and wishes from local fast food chain representatives, my friends would take the podium. One might say something short and sweet like:

"Johnny, if you're listening, I hope there is a dollar menu in heaven. There is just no way heaven hasn't been affected by the recession. If there is no dollar menu, may the wits and tasteless dick and poop jokes from deceased celebrities keep you company. Rest in peace."

-Or-

(After a long heart-felt speech, someone would ideally conclude with:) "I hope there is chicken nuggets where you're going." 

This person would say this while looking thoughtfully and stoically towards the sky. Maybe a small tear would be visible then. Their brows would be furrowed with both sorrow and hope that perhaps there is an all-you-can-eat fast food bar where I'm going. Then they would drop a dollar over my casket and walk away sullenly. This would be followed by everyone else in line who would drop a dollar or two on my grave so I could take their money to the afterlife for fast food. The ancient Egyptians did it. $32.43 probably won't be enough to get me through eternity, but it's a start. I only assume it would be this approximate amount since most of the people I know are cheap. I'm sure most of it will be in change too, but someone might throw a 20 dollar bill  during the impulsive heat of their emotions.

Anyway, that's all I can write. For some reason, I found this concept hilarious in my head. I doubt many will find this as humorous. But meh. 

Enjoy.

Zombie Gorilla Madness

Last night I had a dream that shook me to my core. The dream was brief and nonsensical, but it was pretty awesome anyway.

I was in three different neighborhoods at one time. First, I was standing in my grandparents garage who live in Idaho. My dad was explaining to me that gorillas were somehow running rampant through the neighborhood with some sort of virus that had something to do with too much fluid on their brain (zombie enchephalitis?). In any case, it was contagious and gets transferred through their saliva from bites. It wasn't strictly said, but it was obvious what this was: zombie gorillas.

My dad explained to me that we had to kill as many of them as we could but we couldn't shoot them in the head. We had to study their brains to understand what was going on. My dad then armed himself with a rifle. He handed me his .380 Beretta handgun. Why does he get the rifle and I get this dinky thing to kill zombie gorillas? This is barely enough to put down a rabbit. How am I supposed to kill a zombie gorilla with this? Something is probably going to go horribly wrong.

We walked out of the rear door of the garage where I was magically transported to my neighbors backyard. I looked across the street to where my house normally is only to find it wasn't there. It was a dark field where I could only hear loud rumbling. I walked down the street with my dad away from where my house would be. We walked towards a random house, which actually happened to be my front yard/driveway. The direction we walked to get there was completely opposite from where my house actually is.

Suddenly, a gorilla emerged from the darkness. It was coming at me full speed with crazy rage. My dad made no effort to shoot the furry undead beast. He just casually said "Shoot it." I aimed the small pistol and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. I looked at the gun and checked the action. I had the safety on! Even in my dreams I forget to take the safety off! I flipped the safety switch off and aimed. I took one shot and the gorilla dropped.

Sweet. I'm pretty good at this action hero thing. More gorillas appeared from the side of my house. They were now walking on the walls of my house towards me. That's some trippy shit. I took aim and fired but I couldn't hit them. They got closer and closer. I fired more shots not hitting one of them. They were coming fast. This it. My fate is winding down to a death by zombie gorillas. One leaped on to me and sunk its teeth in my neck.

I woke up in a near cold sweat. I looked around to check my surroundings. I don't know why since I knew that was all a dream and was also reasonably certain that zombie gorillas didn't actually exist.

"That dream was sweet," I said to myself with a slight smile.

I then got up and got ready for work.

Operation: "I Have a Massive Correction."

Last night, I was reading through my older blogs only to find my grammatical errors were more extensive than I thought. The errors were especially bad in my graveyard shift days. It's not that I don't know how to write. I just hate editing my blogs because I'm lazy. Most of my mistakes are missing words. My typing often can't keep up with the words in my mind. I'm usually excited to just get my ideas written out. I've always been against editing old material as I have always believed that it takes away from the original moment of the writing. However, my errors of missing words have taken away more from my writing rather than helping.

I'm rather fond of backhanded remarks and comments. But those beloved backhanded remarks are sometimes lost in my laziness to correct broken sentence structure. Therefore, it is my duty as the author of these terrible blogs, to right which is wrong in my writing. My blogs will be more readable and thusly more enjoyable once corrected. English is actually my best subject. It may not show due to my laziness. But fear not loyal reader, errors will be corrected and your faith in my abilities to properly contstruct a sentence will not be for nothing.

Starting today,  I will be reading through old blogs and correcting these errors from the past couple of years. My older blogs from 2005-2007 will not be touched. They will be left in their entirety on purpose. My more recent works will be modified for better readability and clarity.



Operation: "I Have a Massive Correction," has now begun.


In case you haven't got the joke by now, the title of this blog is supposed to sound very close to "I Have a Massive Erection." A little play on words that makes this operation that much sweeter.

A Much Needed Fishing Trip

Saturday morning I was supposed to go fishing with my dad who ended up backing out in favor of doing chores instead. He was right to do so since I didn't catch anything. However, it was nice just to be outdoors, alone on Starvation Reservoir. The air was clear and I could fully appreciate my silent surroundings. It was so peaceful and the weather was perfect. I took a deep breath and let my pent up stresses melt away. Despite going through every ounce of tackle I owned and coming back empty-handed, I just felt good knowing that I was there. It won't be long before warm outdoor fishing trips are no longer an option for my well-being. I enjoyed every second.

At first, I didn't get why I wasn't catching anything. I was in perfect parts of the lake. I mean, super perfect. They just looked like breeding grounds for trophy fish. I know those places work since I've fished them before. This time was different. I was alone. It was almost intimate in a way. These spots were so perfect, I only wished in some way I could get these spots pregnant. That way I could make more perfect fishing spots just like those ones. Of course, it would turn ugly since the lake and I wouldn't be married which would bring great shame to our families. We would decide we don't work out and can't make it work despite good chemistry. The lake would decide it's best that I never see my perfect fishing spots again. Despite my promises to be the best weekend dad ever, the lake shuns me and says I can't be anywhere near the little miracle fishing spots I helped create in a moment of passion. My heart would be broken, my future fishing trips spoiled, and my perfect fishing spots would just turn into used up losers that aren't capable of supporting decent-sized fish. It would all be quite tragic.



Anywho, I blame my lack of catches on going fishing the day after a full moon. The fish had probably already filled up on bugs and lesser smaller fish. My lack of foresight was the problem.

Still, I'm reminded of the quote "Your worst day fishing is always better than your best day at work."

So True.


So True.







Oh and I've been obsessed with the lyrics at the end of this song I discovered. I'll leave you with this instead of an awkward image of me making love to a lake.

October Fall
If We're All Alone, Aren't We in This Together?

(Last Verse)
I won't burn out, I'll just burn up
And I was raised on excellence
Always taught to look my best
I don't wanna be just anybody
I don't wanna be anything you forget
Villains die and heroes live forever
Tragic endings get remembered
I don't wanna be just anybody
I don't wanna be anything you forget....

Memories That Seem Like Movies: Part 4, Section B

I took a deep breath and exited my car slowly. I now have to face them and actually make conversation. We walked towards the movie theater. "Do you even go to Jordan?" asked one of the girls. I looked around for a second to make sure she was talking to me, as if there might have been someone else nearby that she could be talking to. "Yeah, why?" I asked. Was that the right thing to say back? That's being involved in the conversation right? "It's just that I've never seen you around before." replied the girl. What do I say now? Sorry you've never seen me before? No, that's dumb. Don't apologize for being a hidden and nameless face in the hall. I try very hard to go unnoticed.

Wait a second! Who am I even talking to? I hadn't taken my eyes off my shoes and the dirty sidewalk since I walked out of my car. I hadn't even bothered to look at who is actually talking to me. I figured I should at least glace at the person who is quizzing me on my participation in school. I looked up and the first thing I saw was a brick pillar, smothered in old gum. I looked to my right. Strangers. I looked to my left, nobody. Where the hell did everyone go? "Behind you, dumbass," said Damon. I heard the girls giggle. Great. Now I look like a dumbass. I'm making an awesome first impression. I must have looked like an awkward autistic kid, always keeping quiet, avoiding eye contact, and making below-average-intelligence decisions. I turned to see Damon with a girl at each side of him. One was a short blonde girl with a nice smile and big blue eyes. The other was a short, but plain looking girl in glasses, brown hair, freckles and with a giant grin on her face. I've never seen them before. How does Damon know these girls? They are pretty good looking. Not to say Damon couldn't get attractive women to hang out with him. I guess I just wasn't expecting attractive girls to be around me.

"So Damon tells me you're in a band. What instrument do you play?" asked the brown haired girl. "Drums. It's cool." I replied. I felt like an idiot. She smiled and said "Are you excited for the movie? I've always wanted to see this. I hear it's way scary." I flatly replied, "The movie looks ridiculous. At the very least I'll get a good laugh out of the crappy plot or bad acting."  The blonde girl turned and raised her eyebrow at me. Smooth move. Maybe I can also talk to her about my love for Star Wars and Star Trek, or maybe even tell her that Taco Bell almost makes me crap my pants every time I eat there. Maybe I'll ask her to feel my armpits for strange bumps to check for cancer. I am not good at this whole conversation thing. How does Damon do this? He makes it seem so easy and smooth. Here I am looking like a cynical jackass.....Well I was/am. But I even knew back then that a cynical personality was effective girl repellant. I needed to shape up, if not for my sake, for Damon's sake at least. I don't have to take him down with me. "I'm sorry I have a bad memory but I don't remember, what were your names again?" I asked innocently. I still have a chance to save my sinking ship if I act nice enough. "Heidi." said the brown haired girl. "Brittany," said the blonde. Ok, I can remember that. Heidi is the one talking to me, Brittany is the the one giving me looks as if I'm from another planet. Got it.

We started walking to our seats. Damon and I were walking ahead of them exchanging witty banter about the potential crappiness of the film we were about to sit through. Behind us the girls whispered very quietly. I was certain they were planning to bail on us. Any moment I figured one of them would make an excuse about a beloved animal suddenly dropping dead at home or they just remembered they had to wash each others hair that night. I blew it for both of us, I knew it! Damon picked our seats in a nearly empty theater. We shuffled toward the middle of a row towards the back. As we shuffled, I silently waited for the bail-out excuse. But there was none to be had. The girls looked at each other, giving one another dirty looks. "Here it comes," I thought. They were just deciding who was going to break the excuse. But instead, one stepped in front of me to stand on one side of me and the other passed Damon to sit on my other side. What the hell? Are they trying to make a girl-boy-girl-boy pattern? Why? Damon shot me a confused glance. I just shrugged and sat down. To my left, Heidi sat their looking at me nervously. To my right, Brittany looked at me smiling. She winked at me. Who does that? Who winks anymore? What does that mean? I panicked. I'm sitting between two girls whom I've never met before and they are acting weird. I bet I got something stuck in my hair! Or did Damon slap a sign on my back again? He was notorious for doing that. This was just too weird. I tried to run my fingers casually through my hair to check for paper or popcorn or whatever might have gotten stuck in my shaggy afro. Nothing. I scratched my back as if to have an itch to check for a sign. Nothing. Everyone got eerily silent. Something just happened and I wasn't getting it. The girls knew. Damon knew. I didn't.

After fielding a few more awkward questions about myself between Heidi and Brittany, the movie finally started. Finally! I had never been so excited for a bad movie to start. These questions and weird behaviors were freaking me out. Damon hardly said a word the past 15 minutes. Why aren't they asking him anything? He actually knows how to communicate! As the movie rolled on, so did the awkward times. Brittany kept asking me questions about the movie and what I thought would happen next. I just kept replying "I don't know," even though I knew perfectly well what was going to happen next. The movie was predictable and shitty. I didn't want to say anything and ruin the movie. As far as I knew, girls hated that sort of thing. Heidi kept on leaning in close to me to ask how I was doing or asked if I was scared yet. I kept replying I'm fine although I was most certainly not fine on the inside. In my head all I could think was "What the fuck is going on and what do I do?" I was freaking out. How do I interpret this needlessly complicated girl language? Halfway through the movie Brittany nudged my hand with her hand. I withdrew it thinking I was just in the way of her comfortable armrest. I turned and said "Sorry." She raised her eyebrow again at me and then shot me a dirty look. She turned to watch the movie again. I was perplexed. I apologized for being in the way of her comfort, what more does she want? What's her problem? At that moment, Heidi snatched up my hand into hers. I turned to look at her. She wouldn't look at me, she just kept watching the movie casually. Is this real? What do I do? My palms instantly started producing sweat in mass quantities. "Is this first base?" I thought. No that's stupid. First base is kissing right? No, no, this is definitely second base. Isn't it? She let go of my hand after a couple of minutes. I soaked her hand in nervous sweat. She then put her hand on my thigh. Oh shit, this is like third base isn't it? No, that can't be right. Where does a kiss fit in the ballpark then? Is that the home-run? I then wished I had paid more attention to Branden and Kyle's stories of conquest and knew more about baseball. Suddenly, the movie produced a loud noise. Heidi screamed and clung on to me.

Great, another challenge. Now what do I do? Do I comfort her and tell her what she is afraid of is nothing more than a loud noise during a silent scene to make up for weak plot content?

Memories That Seem Like Movies: Part 4, Section A

I hate it when people say "My adolescent years were hard for me." As if to imply their puberty-induced awkwardness was somehow more uniquely difficult. Join the freaking club! Just like everyone else, it was difficult for me as well. I was quiet and awkward around and girls my age. I wasn't well-liked among girls in my middle school for one reason or the other despite keeping quiet and intentionally staying out of the way. In my sophomore year of high school, that somewhat changed. My friend Damon dragged me to a dollar movie to see "The Ring." I didn't want to see the movie. It looked stupid and plotless. I would have rather wasted my money on gas for my car or new equipment for my drums. However, this dollar movie occasion was somewhat different. Damon promised girls he knew would be there and had managed to talk me up a little bit. This concept intrigued me. I had never been to a movie with a girl before. I was suspicious at first. I figured we might be getting used as a means for these girls to get into a movie for free. Who would want to go to a movie with me anyway? They must be after something. I quickly dismissed this notion upon realizing that going to a dollar movie with two girls wasn't exactly going to cause me to go broke. I decided to go but was still wary. Who were these girls? How did they know Damon? What did he tell them about me? And how the hell did I get dragged into this again? Curiousity, I guess. Maybe this could lead to something...... A girl liking me, perhaps? Nah...... Implausible! I was admittedly nervous but didn't fret too much. Damon got nicely dressed with a button-up shirt and cologne. I put on an old skater hoody and called it good. I looked in the mirror to make sure I didn't look like a total hobo. I had grown out my hair to super shaggy lengths again. I knew I didn't look good, but I didn't care since I expected no girl would like me anyway. All I cared about was skateboarding, music and friends. This time was slightly different. I didn't care exactly how I dressed, but I tried to look a little nicer than usual. I tried to make sure my hair looked a little more uniform rather than completely scraggly as if I just woke up. That's about as far as it went. I wasn't expecting much out of this other than getting the experience of having to deal with a girl outside of school on a social basis.

I was the only one with access to a car and a license. It was the curse of turning 16 long before everyone else. The girls apparently didn't have a car either. Now the task of going to pick them was now in my awkward hands. Shit. What's the protocol for this sort of thing? Do I go to the door? Do I wait for them to come outside? I didn't want to deal with it. I looked to Damon for advice who remained positive and tried to give me pointers on what to say. I didn't actually ask for his help, he just willingly gave it, perhaps sensing my nervousness. Or he just knew from nine years of friendship that I had absolutely no experience in dealing with girls except from online chatrooms. I was relieved he was giving me pointers, but I pretended like I didn't need them. I was cool, right? Damon was a heavy-set but confident kid. He was chatting up girls on a professional level when we were just in elementary school; while I played basketball, drew pictures about Star Wars, and went on long walks around the playground by myself. He had a long head start. This wasn't his first rodeo. I was glad he was there, but somewhat annoyed by his condescending presence. He was the confident master and I was the naive pupil. His advice was nice to have but he relished that he knew this subject way better than me. He made it a point to make that known in his own little way. He was a good friend, but he was always very competitive. He had no problem letting me know where I stood compared to him in other subjects. Despite his passive aggressive competitiveness, I was still glad he was there. My little annoyances will have to be set aside if I am to learn what he knows.

I wouldn't go to the door to pick up the girls. What if the dad was scary? He would take one look at me and be like "You're not actually here to pick up my daughter, are you? Because there is no way in hell you are taking her to a movie you filthy hippy." Turns out, this girl's father was not present in her life. I still refused to go to the door anyway. I sent Damon out instead, who rolled his eyes and laughed. It was dark by this time. The bright porch light made him into a detail-less silhoullete. I saw two small female figures emerge in the doorway. I couldn't see them well but I hoped they were good looking. If they were good looking, then I would have something to talk about as far as girls went. My other friends were already dating and giving me crap for not dating. I could picture it now: Kyle would give me a high five and say something like "Finally, Johnny is dating hot chicks." Whereas Branden would say some dick comment that would actually mean a compliment in his language like "About time you fuckin' weird-ass loser." Yes, the glory would be mine! No more just talking about girls who were hot and marveled at from a distance. I could be going on a date with a potential hot girl right now. I could finally speak from experience like my other friends. But what if they were ugly and weird? Well that's easy, I could just blame Damon later on for setting me up for disaster. "It was his idea!" I would say in my defense. "At least it was a date," I would then digress casually. It was perfect. I had a way in or out either way!

The two girls got in the backseat of my car, while Damon sat in the front seat with a smug smile on his face. I didn't dare look back. "Stay cool, be casual," I reassured myself in my head. Damon looked in the back seat and said "This quiet guy here is my friend, Johnny. Why don't you girls say hi and thank him for taking us to our destination?" The girls giggled and said thanks. I still didn't look back. I managed to mumble a weak "You're welcome." I put the car in drive and drove towards the theatre. The girls introduced themselves but I didn't pay attention to what their names were. I was too consumed in my nervousness to care. The movie theatre was only two minutes away from their house. We could have walked there if we wanted. "I can't believe I'm wasting gas on this. I need this gas for other things," I thought. I couldn't think of what those other things were, but I was convinced this car trip that totaled 8 minutes was a waste of my personal resources. Damon and the girls bantered about various subjects during the short trip. They sounded nice. But I still hadn't actually seen them. I tried to sneakily look in my rearview mirror to see if I could catch a glimpse of their faces. It was too dark to see them. The only thing I was able to know for sure is that one was blonde and the other might have had freckles. I stayed silent and concentrated on driving. Maybe if I looked like I was concentrating on driving, I wouldn't have to talk. It would be the perfect excuse for my awkward silence.

I got more nervous as we parked in the theatre parking lot. I didn't anticipate being this nervous. This wasn't supposed to be a big deal! Now I have to look at them and make conversation. What if I say something stupid? What if I don't say anything at all and look stupid for that too? What if I trip and fall? What if one of them asks me questions? I am NOT prepared for this!

Stupid People and Love

Some people reallllllly overindulge what they think love is or should be. It's no surprise that these same people are usually in a perpetual string of failed relationships. It's as if they feel like they are entitled to be loved. But who wants to love a selfish person like that anyway? I heard one person once quote this to me by memory:

Love is patient, is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast. It is not proud, it is not rude. It is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. Love keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil. Love rejoices with truth, always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres, never fails.


It's a nice optimistic quote and is true for people who are actually capable of feeling love and are capable of returning it back equally. However, the same people who think they believe this are not patient or kind and tend to be envious of the love that everyone else has. They do brag about minor accomplishments and are relentlessly proud of useless accomplishments. They tend to be rude, selfish and attention starved, and are actually quite easily angered. They really do keep track of wrongs and rights and delight in putting people down for their own self-esteem. They don't always relish in telling the truth if it makes themselves appear interesting. They only protect people if it suits them, they trust very little and often do not actually persevere over the most minor of obstacles. And love, in fact, does fail. Our divorce rates prove it. I find that people who quote this are not any of the above things that love entails, hence the reason why no one tends to love them for long amounts of time, if at all.

All the while, this same lovesick, attention-starved dumbass usually has to frequently reassure themselves of how great and beautiful they think they are and how they deserve the best. Ironically, they don't get the best nor do they deserve it. I don't have one person to pin this on but multiple people who do this EXACT same crap. Some might argue it makes them feel better and gets them through. But what's the point? No one loves a selfish person, and if they do, it's not for long. I'm not exactly a love expert but putting yourself on this magnificent psychological throne of greatness will always guarantee your loneliness. Nothing will live up to the standards that you think love is. No one will be perfect. No one will love someone so self-consumed and greedy.

All I can say to all the disappointed women out there is, shape up, be a better person, or enjoy all the years you have to look forward to of watching your uterus turn to a dried up raisin. Love isn't like the movies. Maybe it's time to start looking at what's wrong with you instead of what you think is wrong with everyone else.

I had to rant about this. I'm so tired of having to interact with people like this, or indirectly interact with people like this via Facebook.

On the up side, I feel better now that I've ranted.

Thank you, blog.

Coffee and Weight Loss

If you were hoping I would tell you some secret about how coffee helps you lose weight, you assumed wrong. They are merely just two different subjects in my blog. Sorry to disappoint. 

After my disappointing midterm last night, I went to buy some coffee. I figured it might help ease my anger knowing that I had a wide and delicious selection of coffee. It eased my anger a little bit. But I know that even in my darkest, most money-broke days, I will have coffee no matter what. It took me 6 months to run out of my moderate supply. I easily have a years worth of coffee right now. I have so many different kinds to try, it's just simply awesome. I now have sampling many coffees to look forward to.

On a slightly more positive note, I have lost a lot of weight. My genetics and youthful metabolism are still playing in my favor. I only have to lose 4 more pounds to get to my ultimate goal again. I gained exactly 18 lbs over the summer. I've lost 14 of it in roughly 3 weeks just by eating my calorie limit with healthy foods. I haven't had time to do a ton of exercise. I've only been able to do weight lifting 3 days a week for very short periods of time. I would like to lift more often, or at least do some more cardio. That would at least help me lose the stubborn fat that's clinging to my belly. Losing weight easily is really a double-edged sword. On one hand, I lose weight easily and rapidly. On the other hand, I gain it back just as easily. To compound things, my love for fattening and greasy foods knows no bounds. In past years, I didn't have much of a sweet tooth. I've found that I love pastries and ice cream almost as much as greasy foods. The only thing standing between me and morbid obesity to the point of getting disability checks, is my fragile self-control. My self-control fluctuates more than the mood swings of a pregnant and bi-polar crack addict. Even when I had gained that amount of weight, it wasn't insanely obvious, except for maybe in my face. I've done really well losing the amount of weight I have and not coming close to my original heavy weight. I try to stay positive by thinking I've kept off a ton of weight over the past year and a half-ish. I just have to keep on this path for ideally, the rest of my life.

I had nothing decent to write about today, so you got stuck reading about my coffee and weight loss.
(This also helps me keep track of my progress.)

Sucks for you.

Lil' Douchebag Suits

Every time I go to Walmart, I see these little exercise suits. These would be acceptable or even cute for kids who were in a junior basketball league or some kind of sports. They are perfect bench and warm up suits. But if they were used outside of this context, the results would be catastrophic.

It's no secret that people who wear track suits outside of an exercise or sports related environment are douchebags. Even creeps can sport this look with relative ease. What if little boys were to wear these as regular clothing? We would see a drastic increase of douchebaggery, the likes of which we have never seen before. There would be a lot of little creeps hanging out by the monkey bars of the playground with greasy slicked back hair, partially unzipped track jackets showing a wife-beater tank top and cheap gold necklace underneath. They would just hang out there casually winking and snapping at the passing girls and propositioning some to play a game of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

We can't take the risk for this type of cataclysmic douchebaggery to happen. The cons are greater than the pros. I recommend an immediate burning of these douchebag suits. It's bad enough we have a plentiful supply of teenage and adult douchebags; we don't need the virus to spread to our children too. It's not long before these suits start including the cheap gold necklaces and wife-beater tank tops. We don't have time. We have to act now to save our youth from complete and utter social failure!


Think of the children! Would you please just think of the children?!

I Still Love Science

Since I was a kid, I've always loved science. Even when I was a young child, I loved it. I'm not sure if I inherited my love for science from my dad or if my curious behavior was just well nourished to let it develop. My parents always nourished my curiosity with answers and always tried to make me learn new things.

In elementary school, I loved science. I was always disappointed when we didn't have a enough of it. I loved astronomy and anything on anatomy the best. But I still loved everything else science-related.

I loved how it provided answers. It provided improvement. It provided sense. It provided me an outlet to find my answers. Everything so accurate and precise. So sophisticated.

I was always in love with science from the beginning. I still am. From the nerdy books I read on astrophysics to the medical research I read on my own free time. I love it all.

If I was even halfway decent at math, I think I would pursue a science-intensive career. Maybe in biology or physics.  I just stand in awe at the accomplishments of science and always wonder how I can maybe one day contribute. There is nothing more noble than contributing to a cause that has benefited humankind more than anything.


I couldn't imagine a world where I didn't have science to look forward to.



PS: This is my 300th blog. As a man of science, I have always wanted wanted to pay a tribute to it on this blog. Science has always mattered to me and has always captured my heart and my imagination. Number 300 seemed like as good of time as any.

On Occasion, People Like Me

On occasion, it's nice to know that people like you. It's nice to know that people like having you around and that you are a welcome addition to a social gathering. It's just nice to feel liked and wanted.

For me, it's not always apparent if people like me or not. I've always considered myself as an average person. Someone who doesn't stand out and yet doesn't stand out enough. I even consider myself sometimes as a bit of an outscast or misfit because of my sometimes awkward and dry social skills in the presence of strangers or people I highly respect.

I'm not a man whom you would call the life of the party. But I don't mind being there.
I'm not a man whom you would call a social butterfly. But I'm always listening.
I'm not a man whom you would call extremely funny. But I'm known for witty remarks.
I'm not a man whom you would call super intelligent. But I'm not an idiot.
I'm not a man whom you would call full of character, but I'm not dull. 
I'm not a man whom you would know everything about. But I try to be open.
It's nice to know that people want to be around me despite all my faults. It's nice to know that people like me for my personality, and not because they need something from me.

Even if it seems apparent that people like you, it's always nice to just hear it or know it in your heart. It's a simple need that we as humans strive for.

I'm glad I know the people that I do. They always have the capability beyond your own will (no matter how you might try) to salvage a bad day into a much better one.

Mall People Suck

Sometimes the mall is much better than the circus, Walmart, and the state fair put together. The people watching is most entertaining and worth while. For instance, as I was walking through the mall I noticed that one guy had a firm hand on his junk. I know that is the gangster thing to do nowadays, but really? What does that say to a prospectively attracted females looking at you? It is very unlikely that any female on an evolutionary-based subconscious level would think "You are clearly alpha male by the way you hold your junk. Your seed will make a nice addition to my uterus and/or gene pool." They are more likely to think "Ew! That guy has herpes!" I'm not exactly a dating expert or a chick-magnet of any sorts, but that seems to be the exact opposite of the desired result.

I thought girls at the bar were the most desperate for attention until I walked through Fashion Place Mall on a busy Saturday afternoon. Teenage girls and women old enough to know better, were dressed as if they were trying to take the gold medal in the presitgious but fictional Prostitute Olympics. Aside from the obvious cries for attention by the way they dress, their behavior was also loud and obnoxious. Normally, this would be expected at a bar where alcohol heavily influences the loud and the obnoxious. At the mall, there is no excuse. These women were just as loud and animated as possible without the obvious influence of alcohol or drugs. Instead, they were drunk on the aspect of attracting glances and head turns from passing by men. An optimist might try to explain this as "friends having a good time." This might be the case in girls ranging from ages 12-19 years old. However, I was seeing this behavior with women who were well into their 40's while wearing shirts that were cut so low,there was almost no point in wearing the shirt at all.

Don't even get me started on kids running through the mall unattended. It was an obstacle course of children of all ages. It took all my concentration, hand-eye coordination, and stamina to avoid trampling over kids like a bulldozer. I'm not a big guy either. But if I'm afraid of stepping on kids like they were common midgets (joking), there are probably too many of them in my way. When I was growing up, my parents never allowed that. They were fierce advocates of me not getting trampled in public places. Thanks, mom and dad.

I hate going to the mall and avoid it if I can. But I try to take something positive from it, like watching the behavior of hopeless morons and then blogging about them later.

That makes it bearable.

Memories That Seem Like Movies: Part 3

It was my first time outside of the house for something besides school or work in a few weeks. I was supposed to be running an errand for my dad but I decided to take a small detour to the mall. While I was there, I decided that I would go and check in at this new store that just opened up called Local. It promoted local bands and music in the mall. It was a unique idea and I loved it. I kind of knew the people who owned it. I thought I would see how they were doing and how business was. They seemed like cool people who were as passionate about music as I was. As I approached the store, I noticed there was a crowd of people that filled the tiny place to the exit. I hurried in so I could see what all the fuss was about. It just so happened to be Kyle and Nate on stage doing an acoustic set. My ex-bandmates. Kyle saw me in the crowd and nodded at me. Nate tried not to notice me. They announced their band name as "Broken for Better." How could they? That really hurt. It's bad enough they broke up the band and now they have the audacity to say we were better off? And what was this new band they started? Without me? Why didn't I know about this? I guess we haven't been talking much. I paid close attention to the next song they played. The lyrics were clearly about the band break-up. I was sweltering with anger. All our hard work was summed up in a single song as nothing. That's not what the song implied, but that's how I took it. I turned away in disgust and made my way towards the exit. I glanced back for a second and saw Kyle stand up as if he was going to call my name to stop me from leaving, but he didn't. Even if he had, I wouldn't have stopped. The band breaking up was just one of many wounds that wasn't healing well. High school was only a couple of months away from being over but yet things kept getting worse for me. I was angry and needed someone to blame. I vowed to never talk to them again.



"Stop throwing quarters at me!" This thought ran through my head louder and louder each time that cold hard quarter hit the back of my head. He thought it was funny. I told him a couple of times to stop but why does he keep doing it? This isn't funny. I thought he was my friend. He only keeps getting away with it because the gym is too big for the teachers to see everything. Why do we have to be at this stupid assembly? It needs to end soon so this can stop. "Ow!" I yelled as I held the back of my head. More laughter from that kid. He keeps throwing them harder and harder each time. I've asked him to stop and he won't. No one else is stopping this, so that means I have to. The assembly finally ended. The 7th graders got up first and exited, followed by the 8th graders. 9th graders are up to leave now. This is my chance. I stood and walked towards the kid who kept throwing loose change at my head. He was still sitting down on the gym floor. I stood above him and waited for him to notice me. He finally looked up at me "What the fuck do you want?" he asked with a stupid smile on his face. His other friends were laughing around him about his remark. I wanted to punch him, but I couldn't. My message would have to be quick and subtle so the teachers wouldn't notice. Open-palmed, I slapped him on the back of his head with pretty good force. You could hear the smack contact his bulbous head with a loud snap. "Knock it off!" I yelled. It hurt him pretty good. He leaned over holding his head. A tear hit the gym floor but he tried not to show his friends. I walked away and went to my locker. School was out, I could go home and put this all behind me. As I walked to my locker one of his friends stopped me in the hall. "Dillon is looking for you. He's mad." I didn't show any emotion. "So." I replied. I walked passed his friend and continued towards the exit. Then I felt a hand grab me by the arm. "Hey! I want to fight you. That was bullshit! I'm going to kick your ass." Dillon's normally pale face was bright red and his eyes were bloodshot. He must have really been crying. I didn't hit him that hard, did I? "I don't want to fight. I just wanted you to stop throwing quarters at me since you wouldn't stop when I asked you," I replied meekly. "Fuck you. I'm going to kick your ass. Meet me downstairs where we normally walk home." He walked away. What have I done?! I didn't want it to come down to this!

Memories That Seem Like Movies: Part 2

"I don't see why I have to get my high school diploma. If I'm failing math anyway I'm probably better off with out it," I said confidently. My dad looked unimpressed by my reasoning. He paused for a second. "John, you HAVE to graduate high school. No son of mine is going to be some loser drop-out," my dad replied firmly. I didn't want to show it, but that statement hurt more than I thought it would. Why couldn't my parents just leave me alone? All I want is to be left alone and free to pursue the only passion that has ever mattered to me: music. Is that so much to ask? "You don't need a high school diploma to be in a band, which is what I intend on doing outside of high school anyway." I knew I was losing the argument. There was no way my dad was going to agree with my point of view. I wasn't doing well in math during high school. It was the only class that almost kept me from graduating. I've never been particularly bright with math. It's always been an educational deterrent for me. I was three months away from graduation day and I had two semesters worth of packets for math make-up. It seemed pretty bleak and I was reasonably sure I wasn't going to make it in time. It seemed like giving up was the only way out. "You are going to graduate high school! You are grounded until you pull up you're shitty grades!" My dad was furious. He was red in the face by this point. I didn't have an option. "Ok..... I will do it," I conceded begrudgingly. My youthful logic was centered around friends and making music. It's all I cared about. It's all I wanted to do. But none of that mattered anymore. I was grounded and wouldn't be leaving the house for anything social for three months.



My hands trembled and my chest got tight. I had never played in front of so many people before. There must have been thousands of kids here. Sure, it was homecoming game and the battle of the bands was more or less an opening act to it. But it was on opportunity for people to hear our music. In the stands, I could hear my friends cheer my name. I heard other friends yell our band name. I felt.......so........alive. This is what I loved to do. I was certain of it. This is my calling in life. To make music. Kyle, Nate and Branden were unusually silent. Nate was almost pale while Branden stood stiff as a board. Kyle tried to look loose and calm. Perhaps he was, but I doubted it. He stepped up to the microphone and announced our band name and song. We jumped right into the song. I couldn't hear the crowd. I couldn't hear the music I was playing with. I was on autopilot as my body over-animated my drum playing. Time seemed to slow down as I looked at the crowd and looked across briefly at all their faces. Some were intently listening. Some were jumping up and down screaming and rocking out to the music. A small handful of kids stood there with their arms folded, scowling: one of the competing bands that didn't do so well. "Screw em," I thought. Before I knew it, we had already played two of our songs. How could time be so slow and yet so fast? I wanted to capture this moment and live it forever. I had never felt anything like this before. I wanted it all. The crowds. The fun. The pressure. My friends. It was perfect. But I didn't know this wasn't going to last forever. I didn't know or care that there was more to life than this. All I cared about was this moment and how for this moment alone, I felt on top of the world.



I didn't want her to go. But I always knew it would come down to this. In the back of my mind, I was ready for the day that she would dump me. I wasn't good enough, just lucky for a short period of time. I had just got home hanging out with some people who I was sure were going to be my new friends. Jeff and Brennon turned out to be really cool guys. In fact, Jeff and I were going to Warped Tour tomorrow and I barely knew him for more than a month. It was a good night. Nothing was going to ruin it. I finished up getting my ass kicked in a game of pool when my phone vibrated. My poorly pixelated green screen cell phone had a text. "We need to talk." My stomach rolled and did back flips while a knot made of nothing lodged itself in my throat. I knew what this was. She was my first girlfriend whom I had been exclusive with for 6 months. I thought I was in love. My lovesick heart didn't know any better. I was practically 18 and she was the only girl at the time willing to give me the time of day. I couldn't lose her. Was I really that undesirable? I took my time getting home. I knew this wouldn't be good. She only wanted to talk to me through instant messenger, a medium she was most comfortable talking through. It wasn't long until she told me with uncanny maturity that we were over. I begged her not to go, but she would reply coldly every time "We can still be friends." How can I just be friends with the only girl I've ever loved? If she doesn't like me, then no one will. I was certain she was the only one capable of getting me. For the first time in years, I bawled like a baby. I had never experienced this type of hurt before. Even though I was expecting her to some day break up with me, I was still grossly unprepared for the pain and trials of heartbreak. This hurt more than anything in the world. And it was only going to keep hurting for the rest of that year. It was my first and only relationship that I had. My teenage life was set on the day I had a girlfriend of my own...And now she was gone. In reality, we were just ignorant kids who would have never worked out, even if the circumstances were right.  But at the time, it felt like I had just earned a painful new scar that would never ever go away.

Memories That Seem Like Movies: Part 1

I stood out on a cliff overlooking the Adriatic Sea on a hot afternoon. A light breeze caressed against me as I became lost in thought. I didn't have any real friends on this trip and the real friends I had were back at home in the States. Sure, I was enjoying myself in Italy but I couldn't help but feel so alone. I pondered about what my friends were doing, how my family was doing, and if the girl I had been chasing after for months ever thought about me. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned and smiled half-heartedly. It was my high school Spanish teacher, Mrs. Hardy. "Want your picture taken here? It's perfect for a photo opportunity!" I thought for a second and replied, "Yeah, that would be great. I hardly have any pictures so far." I tried to put on a happy smile, though for some reason it was hard. I just graduated high school, I was in a foreign country that I've always wanted to go to. Why shouldn't I be happy? But I just couldn't escape the negative emotions that I was so accustomed to in high school.

Not my best picture.

I thought for sure I was going to get my ass kicked. It was a long day at work made longer by drama over a girl. All through my senior year of high school, I chased her. I believed her to be the girl of my dreams, but she had emotional baggage. More baggage I ever imagined. I called Jeff and RJ and told them I might be getting in a fight that I'll probably lose but will need back up in case it gets out of hand. They rushed to Cottonwood Hospital where I worked in dietary at the time. It took them less than 10 minutes to get there. I hoped to avoid the fight by quickly changing out of my work clothes and running to my car undetected. This guy was bigger than me and had an absolute hate for my existence. The outlook wasn't looking too good for me if it came down to a physical confrontation. I was in the locker room practically tearing off my clothes. I was ahead of the big oaf by a few minutes since I got off shift earlier. I got completely dressed and was about to exit when he walked in. He looked down at me, but didn't look mad. I froze in my tracks. I was helpless. Alone. If it came down to punches here, no one would know about it until it was too late. He spoke softly, "I don't want to fight you, man. You have to understand, I love that girl. She is the only thing keeping me sane. My life is all messed up right now. It just hurts to see some other guy go after her." I was shocked. Not at his obvious opening of emotion but that I wasn't getting pommeled right then. I knew I had to be careful with my next few words. He was notoriously unstable. One minute he was cool, another minute he was red hot angry. I was treading on thin ice. "I'm sorry. I really didn't know you two were dating. She never mentioned a thing. If I had known, I would have backed off. I don't go after taken girls." There was an awkward pause for a minute. He broke the silence, "My dad says you're a good guy and I know you are a good guy. Let's just move past this. I'm sorry I got so mad earlier. Are we cool?" He put out his hand. I shook it. "Yeah we are cool. I'm so sorry about this. You don't have to like me, but I hope we don't have to be enemies either. You don't have to worry about me interfering anymore. " I just realized he didn't come in to the locker room to beat my ass silly or to change his clothes. He came in to talk. "Thanks," he replied. He walked out of the locker room. I let out a big sigh of relief. I checked my phone only to find I had missed a lot of texts from Jeff, RJ and Ashley; the girl I had just dumped 3 days before. They were asking where I was and if I was alright. I smiled a little and walked out of the locker room to greet my friends in the parking lot to let them know I survived. Ashley met me in the hallway and inspected me to make sure I was undamaged. She hugged me for a second and said she feared the worst when everyone at work said they hadn't seen me in a while. Everything was going to be ok it seemed. I walked outside only to find that things were about to get significantly worse. Jeff and RJ were standing there in silence while an acquaintance who was more of Jeff's friend, antagonized the man who had intentions of kicking my ass earlier. I ran there and heard the last bits of conversation. "Why do you want to fight Johnny? What's your problem? Huh? What is your freaking deal, man?" Shit. Why is Ian here? He must have already been with Jeff when they came here. He is the last person I need here. "Shut the hell up, Ian! It's ok. Everything is ok." I was seconds away from kicking Ian's ass. He just made an already tense situation worse. The tall kid just went ballistic. "What is this?! I thought we were cool and now I see you have your friends here to jump me?! That's it, I'm calling my Tongan friends here and we are going to settle this." He ran to his car and pulled a golf club from his trunk. I told everyone to run to their cars. We weren't staying to fight. Ashley came with me to get a ride home, everyone else went to my house to meet me there later. This is the last thing I needed. I just graduated high school the day before, and I'm heading to California tonight and then Italy next week. This is not a good way to start off my adult life.

There is no exaggerations here. I remember these events well, conversations included. I remember June and July of 2005 as if they happened yesterday. Yet they don't feel like my memories. They seem so unreal. I can't help but feel like they never happened to me but to someone else. It's hard for me to believe that was the present time to me. I lived those moments. Now they are distant memories, never to be repeated again. The moment was there and now it's gone forever. There is no rewind button for moments like that. No reliving those situations to make them better or to experience them again like your favorite movie on DVD. It's now a situation that's apart of me that I had to learn from the hard way. It's a memory for reflection like a scrapbook. I was young, reckless and full of misguided and poorly controlled emotions. I can't help but think of the future when I reflect on today's present. Will I look back at this moment in my life and frown because it was too boring? Or will I look back with fondness and realize it was time well spent?

Rain, Rain, Go Away

I wonder how many times this title has been used for a blog? I'm guessing it has to range somewhere in between the millions to the "who cares" range.

Screw it, it's cold and rainy and I hate it. There I said it and I don't regret it. I want to go outside and play! Enjoy the world. Since today is Wednesday, I would normally be doing nothing of the sort anyway. I just spent the past 7 hours finishing up two huge philosophy papers in a frosty library surrounded by people who smell like a mix of day-old tacos and a strangers blanket. It's the principle of the thing. I need sunshine to keep my general well-being from deteriorating into crap. I need to know that at any given time I can enjoy the sunshine and that it will be there no matter what.

Honestly, I don't mind the rain if it's warm. Cold rain is...well....cold.... and unforgiving. Warm summer rain is refreshing and leaves little chances for hypothermia and being miserable. Although, the chances of being struck by lightning is more likely in the Summer, I would rather take my chances with that than dealing with unpleasant coldness. Being struck by lightning would make a sweet story whether I live through it or not. If I do die from it, people will always reference me as "my friend who got struck by lightning," or "that one atheist asshole who finally got smote." It may be temporary fame but that's more fame I'll ever achieve living. If I got fried by lightning but didn't die, I would probably be a burdening vegetable only capable of three emotions: indifference, happiness, and uncontrollable horniness. Then people would talk to me in condescending high pitch baby voices and ask me "do you remember when you got struck by lightning? Oh yes you do!" I would giggle, drool and muster out the phrase "Oooooeerrrgghh." I would then crap my pants. Now you can change my diaper you condescending prick. Yes, that is all much better than cold rain.

Now winter is in sight. Winter coming up is like a bull getting ready to mount a lady cow for some uncomfortable lovin'. Is there a better way to put that? No, not really. Winter sucks.

Aside from my disdain for the current weather, I'm pretty sure I need more money. I'm broke. I had to ask my parents for money for gas today. I hate doing that more than anything. I hate feeling like a mooch. Last thing I want to be is the son who lives in his parent's basement, mooching money and going no where in life. All that I'm missing from that is an ill-fitting shirt, a pony tail, thick glasses and a scraggly beard that screams to the world "I hate getting laid!" Then I would be the ultimate stay-at-home loser appearance. Who knows, I might just go ahead and do it. I'm a man of principle that likes to finish what he starts.

With that, I will leave you a picture of my most favorite shirt. I can no longer find a picture of a similar one online so I am forced to post it here so that it may live forever on the internet. I've had it since I was 13. I still wear it from time to time, but have found that the holes and tears make it more and more unfit for wearing duty. It's special to me. It has the nostalgic memories of middle school, high school and present years. Every woman I have ever been with has pleaded with me to get rid of it. Many kids in school were jealous of it. Oh yes, I love it oh so much. You can't tell how haggard it is in the picture, but I assure you, this shirt has seen a lot of good life.

Mid-Terms

It's a dreadful time of the year for all college students. Basically, it's your first major test to determine if you're going to pass the class or not. If you fail the mid-term, there is little hope for a glorious recovery. I'm in the process of studying for one at work as we speak. Well not technically, since I'm writing here and not reading my text. But I felt like writing first so I will do just that.

I need this mid-term like I need a bullet in my head. I need this mid-term like I need a pointy,jagged branch up my ass where the branch has broken off sub-branches but still make pointy uncomfortable corners. I need this mid-term like I need to go to a Justin Beiber concert. I need this mid-term like I need water in my lungs. I need this mid-term like I need a bad dinner at Taco Bell. I need this mid-term like I need the stomach flu during a vacation.........

In case you haven't gotten my sarcasm, I DO NOT need this mid-term right now. Next week would be better. But mid-terms aren't about convenience, obviously. This is just the wrong time for all this crap to happen. I have to get through it. I keep telling myself. "If you want to be a doctor, you have to get through this crappy course."

Oddly enough, that's done quite nicely in the way of motivation lately.



I think I truly found my calling in life.