Alright, for the last blog I do I think I'll nerd out a bit. Recently, Massively Multiplayer Online Games (MMOs) have become the easiest way to sell your soul to the internet for only $15 a month. I, too, was once sucked into this geek sensation sweeping the nation. But after you kill your 700th dragon and conjure fire on your 345th troll, everything seems to start meshing together. Society has turned fantasy into a bland and unoriginal mushpile of swords and sorcerers. I feel that a truly innovative game must break out of the fantasy shell. Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you World of UC Santa Cruz Quest
This breakthrough MMO puts you in control of an online UC Santa Cruz student! Level up by avoiding doing actual work as much as possible. Earn even bigger XP boosts by smoking in the forest beforehand! Grab your friends on a Friday night and participate in epic party quests before you get broken up by the in-game peacekeepers!
Choose from any one of the unique and fun classes!
The Hipster:
The Hipster starts with a special in-game road bike mount, but is only able to use this mount for the entire game. Equip your man-purse and increase its stats by adding on as many ironic political pins that you can find! The Hipster is a very fragile class, but what it lacks for in stamina, it makes up for in individuality.
The Hook:
The Hook is primarily a buffing class, providing medicinal herbs to the rest of his allies. The Hook can only wear flannel-type items and can only change armor every 5 days, however, the Hook has the added benefit of getting a lot of money from out of nowhere to pay for things that he does not need. The Hook is the most sought-after of any class in World of UC Santa Cruz Quest and is a good choice for any players who don't mind finishing the game in over 6 years.
The Frat:
The Frat is the toughest class in World of UC Santa Cruz Quest, but a Frat cannot cast spells due to its low intelligence rating. The Frat is also the rarest class played in World of UC Santa Cruz Quest because there is no player housing available for Frat guilds. Instead Frats must party with other classes as much as possible. Frats can put out a lot of damage with their ping-pong ball projectile attack and popped collar razor headbutt attack.
What is with the obsession over the vampire film Twilight? The fans are all literally insane. A few girls scratched their necks until they bled and then begged the star of the film, Robert Pattinson, to bite them and change them into vampires. Don’t they realize that Robert Pattinson is not actually a vampire but just an actor? They are truly insane. My cousin is one of these crazy fans and firmly believes as long as Robert is single she has “a shot with him.” First off he’s a huge celebrity and second off she is thirteen years old. Why do people believe just because he is single he will be with them? People are really obnoxious and obsessed with this series. You say the name Edward they scream, have pale skin they scream, say there is a ‘new moon’ out in the sky and they scream, it is absolutely ridiculous. I have even heard that there are girls that put their dildos in the freezer so that it would be like fucking a vampire. What is wrong with our world? These people are crazy and Robert Pattinson was even hit by a car running from crazy fans. Since this film became so big the television network is putting anything vampire up and people are watching it. They have shows like the vampire diaries and true blood (which is actually good). No one seems to think there is anything wrong with a one-hundred and nine year old vampire stalker being with a teenage girl. The whole thing is bizarre and wrong. Twilight’s popularity is really freaking out born again christains and they say “Twilight and Harry Potter are the devils tools.” Ironically Robert Pattinson starred in both films making him the most hated person among born again Christians. All I have to say to crazy twilight fans is stop fucking popsicles and get a life.
I’ve been playing drums since I was in the 6th grade. Originally, It was John Bonham that made me pick up the sticks. But my skills had me settle for lesser inspiration in Paul Rudd, the drummer of AC/DC. I was in a band for a few days called the Kentucky Fried Bunnies. We quickly disbanded after we butchered Green Day’s “Brain Stew.” It was many years before my scars from that fateful performance healed. Friends of mine had started a band. And a guitar playing buddy of mine were discussing Zep Zeppelin lore. When his father overheard us and relayed a story he had heard about them beating a groupie with a cold, dead fish we decided to form a band.
This intense fascination with fish goes far back. I am a pisces. But more specifically, when I was 9 and my sister was 11 we filled a plastic bag with palmolive and boaked (my new past tense of bike) down to the Seal Beach City Hall. There was a courtyard with a waterfall fountain. We just tossed the whole thing in there knowing our finger prints were not waterproof. Our mom taught us that. She also taught us to keep a look out for our crimes in the police reports for the next couple days. We had our eyes peeled for some type of vandalism to city property, but certainly were not ready for the contents of the report. Fish Murder!
This morbid lesson, “look before you add soap” was learned in full. I remember saying sorry to each and everyone of those 17 dead fish each night for weeks. And I believe it is this very thing that attracted me to rejoin a musical group. You get shown the light in the the strangest of places if you look at it right. I'm Andrew Hine
Stand up comedy isn't like sex at all for a lot of reasons. First off, sex is done in the safety of your home (or not, if that's your thing) while stand up comedy is done in front of a live audience. If it was the opposite, that would be really awkward either way.
If you get laughs during stand up comedy, that's a great sign, and you're doing a good job. If you get laughs during sex, it's almost never a good sign. In fact, it can be very destroying to one's self esteem. I personally only get a few chuckles during sex, and then a lot of disappointing sighs.
And with sex, there's not nearly as much pressure. Sure, I may be judged by my performance, but at least I'm not getting a letter grade. It's kinda like a pass/no pass class, except way better. It also seems I get way too much stage time with stand up comedy, and almost no stage time with sex. So I guess if I was having sex for a letter grade, I might not get as good of a grade since I'm not doing it as much. But I'm sure if there actually was a sex class, more people will be willing to do study sessions since they also must study for the exam. Could you study alone for such a class? I mean, I guess you could masturbate, but that would probably only be part of the final. Or maybe you could watch porno, but that's like watching a stand up comedy show instead of rehearsing. Ok, I'm thinking way too much into this.
But then again, a sex class would be interesting. Not like sex education, but like, a class about how to have sex. I don't know how well it would go, though. I imagine it would fill up very, very fast, so only Seniors will have the chance to take that class. And what kind of elective would it fill? Is it a science class, or perhaps an art class? Maybe there's several different classes, like lower and upper division courses. How fucking rad would that be to tell someone "Yeah, I got an A in Sex 109. It's the final upper division sex course," But then, that might be a turn off, since that means that that specific person also did a lot of 'studying,' and I could only imagine how risky having sex with someone who did a lot of studying for that class would be.
Because you can't just have sex with one person, you studies must be diversified! That would be like only studying simple polynomial differentiation and saying "I know everything there is to know about Calculus," So maybe a sex class wouldn't be such a good idea. Plus, it would probably take the fun out of sex. I mean, sex is something you do to AVOID homework. That is, if you are able to have sex on that much of a whim. Not all of us are that fortunate. I, for one, can't have sex that easily. And maybe that's not such a good thing right now, but at least I know that the times I do have sex, it's actually really awesome, and usually a highlight for that week. It certainly beats studying. And maybe that's why we don't have sex classes: Sex may either be something very special with a loved one, or done in an anonymous room at a sweet party, but one thing's for sure, it's something to be looked forward to. And having it as a class, well, who looks forward to studying? Even last year when I had game design classes, it was still a pain to research something think is pretty cool.
Wow, if I spent this much time thinking about things that are actually important, then I'd probably be a better person right now.
So in conclusion, stand up comedy isn't like sex in the least bit. And if sex was LIKE stand up comedy class, then sex would probably be worse than stand up comedy.
Let’s discuss a few of my itsy-winny-bitsy (they’re really minute) Pet peeves.
People having discussions in narrow corridors.
I love debating about whether or not Jesus would eaten turkey as much as the next dude, but there is a place for that discussion, namely NOT in the middle of a path. People commonly bump into friends (I’m not against this) and start talking (also cool with me) right in the middle of sidewalks (GRRRR go die). Please take one giant step to the left, and carry on. These people also have the nerve to give ME funny looks when I have to circumnavigate them; “what’s wrong with you?” the looks ask.
Dear Santa, I would like a high voltage cattle prod for Christmas.
Slow people at the salad bar.
I’m a vegan, i.e. I eat more vegetables than the population of a small southern state does. So if you are in line in front of me at Fresh Choice, and are trying to pick which wedge of carrot you like the most… you are depriving me of my fix, and if you change your mind about which cherry tomato you want one more time, I will set you on fire (or cattle prod you once my Christmas Wishes come true) Don’t mess with Vegans, when we’re hungry we mean business.
Ugly curtains.
Okay, this is the only thing in the world I invoke my I’m-Gay-so-I-know-better-because-its-in-my-DNA credential (and when I complain about place settings, and when I defend not knowing what sport the Red Sox play). If you hung something up over your windows that looks like it was just used to wipe up an oil spill/ spent 5000 years in the 7th circle of hell/ is something Ray Charles would have choose, then I WILL comment. I’ll be subtle “did those come with the house?” or “These must have saved you a fortune!” or if I’ve had some wine: “Do you really want to know why your husband left you? Follow me, here it is! Hanging right there in front of your windows!”
Hi, I’m a fireman, and you know what that means? I look good with my shirt off. No, I kid, that is a stereotype and I am not for them. I am a fireman, but that has nothing to do with what I am about to tell you. I found a dead bird in my mailbox today. It was decaying and smelled like all hell. No, I kid, I just got my mail today. I like to imagine strange things happening to me. I am a fireman though, we haven’t had much action the past month, and I’m not talking about fires! No, I kid, I did mean the fires. We have only been called as paramedics, no fires the past month which is crazy because it has been a blistering month. No, I kid, it’s been freezing, a very cold november. But that usually means that people’s fireplace fires get out of hand here or there. Were waiting for a call, and I’ll be ready. Until then we’ve been playing lots of poker. No, I kid, I take my job very seriously. But we do play poker now and again. I’m not very good. No, I kid, I do quite well for myself. I am looking for a girlfriend though, so if you read this and you’re interested you should give me a call at 899-6758. No, I kid, that’s not really my phone number and I’m actually married. It was a joke.
Why do you want me to be so fat? When going into college everyone told me I would gain the freshman 15, but being as ignorant as I am, I refused to believe them. I thought “Oh, I'm going to work out everyday and eat salads and fruits and lots and lots of protein”. NOPE. Thanks to Santa Cruz Dining Halls, I'm slowly working my way up... in weight that is. All I eat is carbs, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, bagels, bread, pasta, pizza and my worst enemy: FRENCH FRIES. At home french fries weren't even an option unless I went out to buy them but here they are accessible until midnight! Thats insane. I think colleges want students to get fat so we can spend all our time on campus sitting around studying like big huge blobs. Yes Santa Cruz has hills, bike rides and nice hikes but God dammit the dining hall foods are just so good... yet sooo bad. Now Thanksgiving is coming up and I have no time to eat healthy because I know I'll be grubbin on mounds of mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey and lots and lots of stuffing and Pie! And I'll be sleeping in until 2 everyday recovering from all the sleep I've lost here, so Santa Cruz Dining Halls, Im ordering you to clean up your act by next week. Im talkin yummy vegetables, better salad selections and a ban on french fries. Yes this may cause a massive strike, maybe even more massive than the one were having for budget cuts. But for me and the people of Santa cruz help us loose weight and clean up our acne by healthying up those dining halls.
So I went to Jazzercise on Friday, you know at the Roller Rink Palladium with overweight, middle-aged woman who love to dance and my two best gay friends who, of course, love to dance and dress up in spandex. I think they think that every time we go there it’s a Richard Simmons workout video because they insist on only wearing spandex onesies. I usually go there on the weekends to get a little cardio going before a major night out, like have you ever thought of all the calories you consume on just one Friday night in alcoholic beverages alone, not to mention the after party munchies? A shit load and I don't have time to wait for the morning runs nor can I afford another ten more pounds on my ass, thank you. Anyway, back to Jazzercise it’s just a really accepting environment, where I know I won’t be judged on how good I am or how flexible I am (fucking pretentious yogalatites). Ageism and Fatism doesn’t exist in the realm of Jazzercise, boobs are flopping, asses are gigglin’ and those cottage cheese thighs have never given so many high fives. It’s a pretty sacred place where everyone has that unspoken bond of trust and respect for one another. Like I’ve been to a lot of chastity groups and they could care less about friendship because all they really care about is preserving their image, which is already tainted by their undying love for the Jonas Brothers and Josh Grobin. I feel for the women who wake up every morning and come to class, being able to wake up on a weekend at 8am to dance your heart out while your husband’s lazy ass is still in bed. (so much resentment) Men can eat five cheese burgers in a day and still stay skinny. Like today “I feel like such a heifer. I had two bowls of Special K, 3 pieces of turkey bacon, a handful of popcorn, 5 peanut butter M&M's and like 3 pieces of licorice.” And I feel like ralphing. One and two and three and four come everybody and move and back, front, back and side to side. Gotta work off all the feelings you ate last night. You’re looking better already!
Okay so here is something I do every week or so during the summer; I'm drunk at the horse races and I lose a lot of money. This is how the story goes, I drive up to the Del Mar Fair race tracks, in sunny San Diego with of bunch of my naive buddies. The talk throughout the whole day prior to the first race is about how great a time we are about to have, and how much money we will be making throughout the afternoon, plus how hammered we are all about to get. The thing is I have lived on the beach my entire life, thus I know nothing about farming and livestock, and for that matter I have no clue what to look for in a horse. I have been trying to figure out what it is in a horse that makes it faster than the rest of the pack for years now, and well this is what I have learned, or at least been told. Keep in my mind I've never meet a cowboy, thus I receive most of my knowledge at the track from the guys there. The thing is, all the guys at the race track are fucking duechbags who pretend to be something their not, as they hop out of their '94 Geo Metros, and strap on their fake Rolex's while popping the collar of their Salvation Army grade shirts. Basically the demographics at this things is similiar to that of a Kid Rock concert, a bunch of dudes who don't know shit yet still have a swagger in their step. And sadly I have for sometime time now, taken and applied the advise these indivduals have given me. The selection process, for what horse I will be putting my money on begins at an area known as the paddock, the place in which the proud usually mexican trainer gracefully walks the horse around a small lap in front of many speclators. Every step, every movement of the horse is noticed by hundreds, but really what part of the step is relevant to a winner, and whats just horse shit? Well I heard, bet on the horse with the fattest ass that means great acceleration, or go for the lengthy horse with long lengths, good stamina and long strides. My uncle told me to go for the horse that shits or pisses before the races because he is clearly comfortable and phyiscally a few pounds lighter. It sounds like trying to choice a women that could make a wife, damn near impossible. But I don't know, I'm kind of a romantic I whissle at every horse as if it were a dog, and sometimes a horse will aknownledge me with a glance of eye contact. I found the perfect horse at the paddock this one time, when I was whissling the horse looked me in the eye but it was not a glance it was a moments of eye contact, I fell in love with the horse and in unison we both knodded our heads at each other. With the smell of American brewed beer, filtered cigerattes and horse shit all part of the eroma it was time to chose my fast horse. My choice was of course the horse I had had the moment with, it was the four horse in a race of twelve but regardless of the number there was nothing I needed to see past old mr. four. So I put my twenty dollars down and rooted for the best. Two minutes after the guns shot fired my four came in tenth out of twelve. Then after the race it shat, damn I wish there was rematches in horse facing, I bet my uncle's advise would be right, fuck what a hick hobby. But I bet I will win next time, just vote for the last horse to shit, I throw fifty on it!
Surprise! Fooled you, didn't I? I figured I'd give the rants a break, and move on to something that only a select handful of people would probably enjoy: A review of New Super Mario Bros. Wii. I played through the game, and, despite the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed it, kept wondering... What exactly is "New" about this game? It's got Mario saving the princess while kicking King Koopa's Colossal Can. It's got power-ups, it's got 8 worlds, it's got boss battles, it's got secret exits... It's difficult for me to see what exactly is "New" about New Super Mario Bros. Wii. Well, we've got new(ish) level designs and location inspirations (a given) and enhanced graphics, but what people expect is a difference in power-ups. While the literal is new in this game, the effects have all been used before. Take Propeller Mario for example: Now, this suit, with a shake of the Wii remote, allows Mario to fly in the air...Okay, the suit itself is new, but he's had...let's see...4 other, different powerups that gave him the ability to fly? Real original, Nintendo...Real original. Moving on to the next new powerup, Ice Mario. Fun Fact; Ice Mario is NOT new. It was used before in Super Mario Galaxy. The only things that changed about it are Mario's look and the ability to throw Ice Balls...what else can he do? Pick up the frozen enemies and throw them...that's...it, really. Mario has one more new power-up though, and it makes this one obsolete. Behold...Penguin Mario! Super Mario Bros. 3's Frog Suit on steroids! In this suit, Mario can walk freely on ice (as opposed to slipping around like an uncoordinated moron), swim with the fishes...er, penguins, and...guess what? SHOOT ICE BALLS. Again, the suit itself is new, but... Two ice related power-ups in one game, Nintendo? One totally outclasses the other, so you should have just made a choice and ditched the Ice Flower. Everyone knows that Penguin Mario is more badass.
So, since the storyline isn't new, the game play style isn't new, the vast amount of levels isn't new, the power-ups aren't new...what IS new? I'll tell you what's new. New Super Mario Bros. Wii comes in a Red Box. I'm not even kidding you. That's just about the only brand new thing about this game. Everything else may have enhancements or modifications, but still has roots in a past portrayals of the portly plumber's princess procuring pursuits. If you want a brand new Wii game for your holiday gaming needs, get this one. It's red box will stand out among your other Wii titles. As for the game itself...not so new, but still oh so enjoyable.
P.S. I know what you're thinking, and be quiet. I know the last picture is backwards, shut up.
So my friend, Jeremy, and I were discussing shitty movies the other day and the conversation inevitably turned toward Twilight. From there, we somehow got stuck between Twilight and Transformers. His argument was that the Twilight series is to girls and women what Michael Bay and Roland Emmerich films are to boys and men. Both pander to the juvenile fantasies of their respective genders with little to no regard for the craft of storytelling, to which I replied, "Spot on, sir".
And he was absolutely right, wasn't he? There are only two real differences between these two films, the first being that Transformers is completely lacking in what Twilight was all about: a fucking sexy male lead. Let's face it: in a contest to see who is in more pubescent teenage girls' fantasies, Robert Pattinson would defeat Shia Lebeouf in a crushing victory (while being cheered on by the entire awkward, pimple-covered, bracefaced, and sexually curious 13-year-old demographic to which he appeals so fervently). Shia Labeouf, though attractive, pales in comparison to a guy with pasty skin, fangs, and an eight pack, shameful though it may be.
(Personally, I think Robert Pattinson looks like the bastard crack baby of Quentin Tarantino.... Does anybody else get that vibe? Think about it)
Ironically, the opposite of this conundrum of hotness is true with the supporting female actresses of these movies. While Kristen Steward is pleasant to look at, and evidently hot enough to fuck Edward Cullen, who would YOU rather get down with, reader? The star of Twilight? Or Megan Fox, Shia's main squeeze in Transformers? (And I say that with every emphasis on the word "squeeze" imaginable)
Okay, stop beating off on Megan Fox's face and let's continue.
The truth is that, no matter which one you think is hotter, all four of these over-advertised puppets are narcissistic hacks who all think they are God's gift to the stage. And their movies, though mildly entertaining, are all garbage. I don't think one of these people have ever been in a movie that had a deeper purpose than to make people believe that high school is actually this interesting, or to CGI blowing shit up, or transforming people to wolves or trucks to robots. It's actually kinda painful to know that these films were successful.
And if you want to know the truth, I'd rather fuck Optimus Prime, but that's just me.
Joseph Scalise's Blog, Monday November 23rd, 5:03 P.M Ah, writing the blog the day before its due, in some cases I’m far ahead of the curve, and in some cases I am behind. Anyway, my point in this blog is that time of year we all love, the Holiday Season. And yes, I know people call it “The Holiday Season” because it sounds better that winter, which, in today’s culture, translates to, its really fucking cold outside. But I like The Holiday Season, so I’m sticking with it. So, what I wanted to talk about specifically is Thanksgiving (stuff your face with as many fat saturated sugary foods as possible day), which is my second favorite holiday only to Christmas (ohmygodohmygodgivemepresentsgivemepresentsfucktherepressionsIwantpresents!!!day)Now, even more specifically that Thanksgiving, what I really have been wondering about is pies. You know? Everybody likes pies. Actually, that’s not true, Hitler, Stalin, Walt Disney, Ty Cobbe and serial killers don’t like pie, but the rest of us in normal land do. But I gotta say I have been wondering, why are the flavors of pie so limited? Like wouldn’t anything taste good if turned into a sugary, pasty filling, and then covered in a crisp, flakey crust? Honestly, pies are mostly fruit, in some cases chocolate, but why not makes pies out of other things? You could go places with this idea, and most definitely make a lot of money. Think about it, you could make caramel pies, almond pies, snicker pies, snicker doodle pies, pot sticker pies and egg pies for breakfast, steak and potato pies for dinner, they would all taste good! And the best part, the best part is the amount of money that would go into the economy. Oh yeah! Because if pies were to become this big you know, you know people are gonna want their name out their. Think of it, sponsors for pies. The limited addition “Michael Jordan Chocolate Pie”, The “Pamela Anderson Cream Pie”, “Jessica Alba cherry pie shaped like her ass!” This could go far, look into it, and trust me, there is a living to be made.
Alright, I’ve told this story like 100 times now, so I’m just gonna commit it to paper and then I don’t have to say it again. About a month ago, I went out on my porch for maybe 10 seconds to get some dirt out of my shoes when this guy across the street yells, “ey man. Ey! Can I get like 75 cents? Please? It’s for the bus, I really need it.” And I was like shit, I guess I got a pile of change on my nightstand that I don’t give a shit about. “For sure man I got you.” (sidenote: I gave a homeless guy some change the day before that. I’m like a fucking philanthropist.) –And p.s. to give you an idea of what he looks like (not him but close): So I come back, and the first words out his mouth are, “ey man, I’m sorry, I was lyin. I’m tryin to get a blunt though, you smoke?” *pause* “uuuuuh. Yeah” “well you wanna blaze? Like I got some nugs, you don’t have to throw down, but you buy the blunt, and we’ll smoke?” (I can’t say no to a bargain.) “uh, okay. Sure.” “ok cool. But um, it’s a dollar for the blunt, not 75 cents. So I need another quarter.” Really? If you’re gonna beg/lie you may as well ask for the right amount. This was the first little point where I went “god damn this dude is weird.” So anyway, he comes in, we twist one and get to talking. He mentions being from Oakland or something so I’m like, “alright cut the shit. You rap or what?” He looks at me all seriously like, “hell yeah man, I can spit bars. People always tell me like ‘oh Chris you’re so good at rapping, you should be a rapper.’” He goes by Chris Money. So I’ve been making hip hop beats for fun for a while and have a bootleg “studio” in my room. I get him in there and we record a 4 track EP. Then I lied to him a bunch. The basic rundown of our conversation is: I’m a tweaker, my housemate’s a tweaker, we were both tweaking at the time, I had some crystal he might be able to buy, and a girl was coming over that, while I couldn’t make any promises, I’d ask if we could run a train on. He was pretty hyped on that one. But as much as I made some shit up, you gotta understand most of it came from him asking ridiculous questions and me just being like, “yes.” He’d say shit like, “ey, man, ey. You all buzzin’ and shit right now? Like a raccoon? (raccoon is his slang for crackhead) You itchin?” I’d casually look at him like, “yep.” Pretty subdued. Clearly not on meth. Maybe throw in a calm neck scratch here and there and he’d crack up to himself. But anyways, peep the goods. The music is okay, but the lyrics are deep, cerebral, and life-changing. This guy is a real wordsmith. Some themes you may notice in the flows: Chris gets money, he goes far, he gets cheddar, he’s in a castle, and he comes out of places. Tell your friends that you knew about him before he totally blew up. Colours2 ft. Chris Money by julian7114 Mbira Spirit ft. Chris Money by julian7114 AndyW-LoveIsBlue ft. Chris by julian7114 Gladys-IfIWere ft. Chris by julian7114 Epilogue: Chris wanted to come over the next day and I thought, “oooooo …nah.” So I gave him my phone number and told him NOT to come over without calling me. The next morning I awoke to my phone ringing and about 8 missed calls. All Chris Money. I was kinda pissed and told him that he can’t call me that early and he can’t come over. Then, he came knocking at the door unannounced after dark a few times, once at like 12:30pm. We had to tell him that he can’t come back, ever. So, moral of the story: even though you can get a lot of mileage out of the story and fulfill homework requirements, it’s probably a better idea to not invite Chris Money into your home and tell him that you have crystal and girls he can run trains on. I’m sincerely learning from my mistakes.
Gareth Meeson Blog numba 4 So i was eating a carrot the other day while at my friends house. Jeff (one of the guys that lives there) says to me, "Dude, you know that because you eat so many carrots it means that you love to give blow jobs?" What the fuck? After about 5 minutes of confusion, he told me that eating any sort of semi-cylindrical food in public means you love to give head. So apparently now i can't eat carrots, opsicles, twinkies, cucumbers, sausage, or pretzel sticks. Worst fucking day of my life. The next time i ate a carrot in front of him he laughed at me, so i threw my carrot at him. It ended up hitting him in the eye. Hows that for karma bitch? He quickly told me that he was joking about the whole thing. I pulled out my secondary carrot that i always keep in my back pocket and walked away in silence. The room grew cold, i knew it was time. I turn around to see Jeff pull out a bag of potatoes. The potatoes fly by my face as i tried to deflect them with my carrot-sword. The battle seemed to last for days, neither of us stepping down. I was tired, and i knew i would entually get too sloppy to dodge the barrage of potatoes. I turn my head to see a potato just miss the tip of my nose, i watch as it explodes just like a potato would on the wall behind me. THUD. He got me. I was down on the ground, i could feel the blood ripping down my face, the sweet smell of carrots filled the air. I knew this was my last chance. I threw my carrot at Jeff's face. It went straight through his forehead. I pulled myself away from the scene, and stumbled back to my lair. To this day i remember my old friend Jeff. RIP.
Listen, I am all for when it’s time to get down to business for a little dirty talk. An occasional moan or maybe some compliment about how my tits are so delicious that you want to eat ice cream off of them.. .I’m all good with that. But sometimes, I just don’t understand where you people get these ideas from. Is there some subset of porn that teaches you all this? (doubtful since I have a vast knowledge on rule 34). Since we have all gotten to know each other so well in the short quarter, I’d like to share some of the more interesting things that guys have said to me while the lights were low and a Montel Jordan record was on repeat.
“I just want to take you out into the forest, and make love to you amongst the trees and tell our secrets to the deer.”
This one left me completely and utterly speechless. First, why do you want me to get naked amongst dirt, leaves and used needles? Have you ever heard of a yeast infection? Secondly, why do you think that the deer would even give two flying fucks what are secrets are? Here’s a hint, asshole, deer don’t speak English. Now make me a sandwich and get out of my bed. Next!
“Uhhhhh so legit.”
This was something that in the right context could encourage me that what I was doing was on the right track, unfortunately, this was only during a tame make-out sesh. This just gives me the hint that you are probably a quick shooter and that if we ended up with some p in the va-gee time, you would probably finish quickly, get too sweaty and roll over. Also, “legit” is a slang term for legitimate which, by definition means “Being in compliance with the law”. And really, the things that I want to do in bed are probably illegal in most of the continental U.S.
“I want to stick my hand inside of you and treat you like a muppet.”
This one was when I fucked Big Bird. Not making that mistake again!
I wish that these quotes were fake, but they just further my reasoning for joining the convent. Have a great day!
I HATE PEOPLE THAT REFER TO ME WRITING IN CAPS AS BEING ANGRY OR AKIN TO SHOUTING. WHAT'S ANGRY ABOUT HAVING LARGER LETTERS? I AM JUST TRYING TO CONVEY THE ENERGY THAT I BRING TO EVERYDAY CONVERSATION.
ME - CAN I HAVE SOME EGGS? WAITRESS - DON'T HURT ME! ME - SCRAMBLED! WAITRESS - I HAVE KIDS! ME - AND TOAST!
SEE? THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH TAKING THAT AGGRESSIVE ENERGY DRINK ENEMA EVERYDAY BEFORE GREETING THE WORLD OUTSIDE MY BOMB SHELTER! I AM TALKING NORMALLY, AND IF I WRITE THIS WAY IT IS BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND MY UTTER CONVICTION ABOUT NOT FUCKING AROUND WITH THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. UNDERSTAND? GOOD!
AND WHEN DID USING !!!!!!! BECOME UNCOOL? EXCLAMATION POINTS SIGNIFY WHEN SOMEONE IS SHOUTING THROUGH THEIR WORDS. LOOK AT THIS EXAMPLE!
FUCK OFF. FUCK OFF!
WHICH ONE REPRESENTS ME TELLING AN OLD LADY THAT CALLED THE COPS ON MY FILM CREW TO FUCK OFF? WAS IT A - THE STATEMENT WITH THE PERIOD AND MENSTRUAL CRAMPS, OR B- THE FUCKING SWEET DECLARATION OF NONSENSE HATE WORDS?
IT WAS B, DUH! OLD LADY, I WILL FIND YOU AND TEXT YOU IN ALL CAPS TILL YOU HAVE A HEART ATTACK, BECAUSE I GUESS I'M "shouting" AT YOU!
And hey, thank you for reading this far. It was a 10 cent idea that I just ran with. - Chris Nuth
