First Comedy Blog Ever! Let me begin by kasplurging you with information about how awesome my life is. (I say this with as little arrogance as possible, because I think everyone should be able to say that their life is awesome).
So I'm a Psychology Major. Everyone always says "Oh, that's like, the most popular major on campus douchebag. (No one actually calls me a douchebag but the tone of voice implies it). Have fun counseling mental people your whole life!"
Well first of all, there are more people in the world who aren't psychology majors than are, so touche douchebag accusers! And secondly, get with the times, psychology nowadays has little to nothing to do with clinical counseling. For me, psychology is an excuse to focus my mind on stimulating topics, like sex drugs and music. Yeah! I'll be rock-star in a labcoat!
I'm also very stimulated by inner workings of things, how all the little parts come together to form a whole. I'm an analyzer of the world, and I do it through the all powerful scientific method. Yeah, it sounds scary but it's not. This just means that I build my assertions with reason, intellect, and evidence. I try to minimize assumptions.
I'm a thinker. When I asked my dad what I was like as a little kid, he said that I would question everything, always asking "why?" But as I grew older, I noticed that less people question and more people just barge into life headfirst, building their own personal ego tower of material comfort. I began to let go of my inner analytic and in the process, lost my life direction.
Then I read some Einstein and he was like, "Yo, I question everything like a child! Also I'm a rockstar violinist and have an abnormally large mathematical portion of my mind! Fuck you!"
This was the inspiration I needed. Life is short, so I'ma do what I want with it. And what I want is to surround myself in positive thought, positive energy, ever-growing knowledge, (aka mental evolution) love and laughter.
One thing about me is that my sense of humor isn't conventional, but if you hit the right spots, you can get me cracking up like a curious child who mixed his moms pills into his cereal.
Well that's a little bit about me. My next blog will be on my analysis of humor. Uh.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tyler Watson Entry 467
Tyler Watson
Day 467
The earth is still barren. Food is at an all time low. I nibbled on my belt last night before I could brin myself to eat the last of the beans. I am alone and lonely. By myself and no one is around. I don’t think anyone can hear me and I think I am the only livin thing here. I am on the only workin computer I have found for miles around. Unfortunately the and the keys stick so they don’t reister when I tye, but it’s the best I can do for now. So I’m sorry if I sound like a hick. I assure you I am not. I spent last week olfing, but of course I couldn’t even find the hole because everythin is underwater. My boat sprun another leak and I had to hole it up with the last of my wine corks and then had to drink the wine and so became drunk and so fell over the deck aain into the water and I almost drowned, aain. Alas, I don’t know how much loner I can take this life. It is harsh and unforivin. All of the pictures of my wife are officially waterloed and dissolvin into nothin. Which means that all I have now are the layboys which I already know inside and out. And I hink fuckin damn i now he key doesn work, fuckin compuer must have some waer in i as well. erfec. I uess I’m done wriin for now. No ha anyone will read his anyway. I love you mom wherever you are. Your son, hil.
Nathan Habib Log 1 October 14th 2009
Nathan Habib
Log 1 October 13, 2009
I thought that the only attire needed for going to the gym are shorts, a t-shirt, and proper shoes. No more. Apparently I need to have white headphones in my ears listening to some rapper talking about the struggle. “Ya! A little bit of Lil Wayne on the elliptical will do the trick to tighten my ass!” Then you got those guys that brought their protein shake that they made at home. It’s always the people that really don’t need any more protein on their 20-pound biceps drinking that stuff.
The one thing that I won’t understand is why huge macho men, who are probably not too in tune with their sensitive side bring a diary to the gym. They could be bringing a notepad to record how many reps they are doing in each exercise, but I’m pretty sure they just need to express themselves on paper instead.
I have a feeling this is what a body builder would write in his journal entry:
Dear Dairy, today is October 13, 2009 and I’m working on my chest and triceps. The dumbbells are heavy, and I am experiencing the feeling of fatigue. The protein powder that I made for myself is delicious, but is too thick for me to swallow. If only I did not put that extra piece of banana, and four spoons of peanut butter. With all the pain I am feeling, there is one friend on my side. A tool that shuffles its way to my ears. My green nano ipod. Like a good mother, it always knows what mood I’m in. I don’t feel fabulous, but I feel Fabolous, and the only things I want to do right now is lift this 45 pound dumbbell for my triceps and just throw it in the bag.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xP0QPjyx1I
Log 1 October 13, 2009
I thought that the only attire needed for going to the gym are shorts, a t-shirt, and proper shoes. No more. Apparently I need to have white headphones in my ears listening to some rapper talking about the struggle. “Ya! A little bit of Lil Wayne on the elliptical will do the trick to tighten my ass!” Then you got those guys that brought their protein shake that they made at home. It’s always the people that really don’t need any more protein on their 20-pound biceps drinking that stuff.
The one thing that I won’t understand is why huge macho men, who are probably not too in tune with their sensitive side bring a diary to the gym. They could be bringing a notepad to record how many reps they are doing in each exercise, but I’m pretty sure they just need to express themselves on paper instead.
I have a feeling this is what a body builder would write in his journal entry:
Dear Dairy, today is October 13, 2009 and I’m working on my chest and triceps. The dumbbells are heavy, and I am experiencing the feeling of fatigue. The protein powder that I made for myself is delicious, but is too thick for me to swallow. If only I did not put that extra piece of banana, and four spoons of peanut butter. With all the pain I am feeling, there is one friend on my side. A tool that shuffles its way to my ears. My green nano ipod. Like a good mother, it always knows what mood I’m in. I don’t feel fabulous, but I feel Fabolous, and the only things I want to do right now is lift this 45 pound dumbbell for my triceps and just throw it in the bag.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xP0QPjyx1I
Tyler Thompson
I think relationships are very interesting. You've got the guy who (most of the time) will do anything he needs to do to get laid, and the girl who knows this and takes full economic advantage of it. You see the guys that pretty much just let their girlfriend put a leash on them and take them for a ride. It's funny. The guys don't even know it's happening most of the time. They take them out to dinner, buy them dessert, take them home, let her light some candles, and then she "rewards" him with sex... Score. It only cost him 40 bucks and this was the first time he's been laid since that one night he can't remember. If he had spent that 40 bucks on weed, he probably wouldn't have even jacked off. The killer is the next day though, when she calls back wanting to go out again. This time she wants to go to a concert. Never mind the fact that it's an Irish punk band from Tulsa Arizona. She REALLY wants to go. And besides, what's 40 dollars to a full-time dining hall associate such as himself? After the concert is when everything begins to crumble... She wants to snuggle. And being the gentleman that he is, he obliges; it's not as if he doesn't enjoy a quick pre-sex snuggle to get everyone in the mood. And then it happens. She closes her eyes. And as she begins to drift off, so does his chances of getting laid that night. The sad realization that he has paid $40 for a shitty concert and a snuggle/bed invasion hits him at that moment. Tomorrow, he will call his dealer.
I think relationships are very interesting. You've got the guy who (most of the time) will do anything he needs to do to get laid, and the girl who knows this and takes full economic advantage of it. You see the guys that pretty much just let their girlfriend put a leash on them and take them for a ride. It's funny. The guys don't even know it's happening most of the time. They take them out to dinner, buy them dessert, take them home, let her light some candles, and then she "rewards" him with sex... Score. It only cost him 40 bucks and this was the first time he's been laid since that one night he can't remember. If he had spent that 40 bucks on weed, he probably wouldn't have even jacked off. The killer is the next day though, when she calls back wanting to go out again. This time she wants to go to a concert. Never mind the fact that it's an Irish punk band from Tulsa Arizona. She REALLY wants to go. And besides, what's 40 dollars to a full-time dining hall associate such as himself? After the concert is when everything begins to crumble... She wants to snuggle. And being the gentleman that he is, he obliges; it's not as if he doesn't enjoy a quick pre-sex snuggle to get everyone in the mood. And then it happens. She closes her eyes. And as she begins to drift off, so does his chances of getting laid that night. The sad realization that he has paid $40 for a shitty concert and a snuggle/bed invasion hits him at that moment. Tomorrow, he will call his dealer.
Kat Brown's love for Buffets. #1
Buffets and Me: A Love Affair
There is a certain amount of appreciation that one has for certain things. I personally have found that mine lies in all you can eat, free beverage included, fully stocked and ready to consume buffets. Souplantation, or its Northern brother, Sweet Tomatoes comes to mind as a buffet Mecca, if you will. It truly challenges the human mind. I will go in, plan on having a salad and two muffins, and come out three hours later, wheezing and heaving after consuming enough lettuce for a rabbit farm, three bowls of soup and one of those little brownies with the soft serve on top... Only in America can one eat 3000 calories at an over glorified salad bar.
What I really love though is ethnic buffets for they give you a chance to eat all the weird shit you never want to order off the regular menu. For example, I live near The Fuji Buffet: All You Can Eat Korean, Japanese, and Chinese Foods. Who’s the person that plans out all the stuff that they serve at the buffet? Has any authentic Asian person ever sat down to consume a real meal of their homeland and its EVER included the words "zesty seasoned fries"?!?! NO! But this is what these restaurants are trying to make our American, uncultured minds believe. It’s this weird shit that throws me off. Next to the Kung Pao Tofu and Mushu Pork, they throw in something completely out of left field. Sunday’s delicacy? Apple Pie. I do not approve. When the fuck did someone ever say “well that’s as Chinese as Apple Pie!” Never. If I want some terrible butchering of an American classic, I will go to McDonald’s instead.
There is a certain amount of appreciation that one has for certain things. I personally have found that mine lies in all you can eat, free beverage included, fully stocked and ready to consume buffets. Souplantation, or its Northern brother, Sweet Tomatoes comes to mind as a buffet Mecca, if you will. It truly challenges the human mind. I will go in, plan on having a salad and two muffins, and come out three hours later, wheezing and heaving after consuming enough lettuce for a rabbit farm, three bowls of soup and one of those little brownies with the soft serve on top... Only in America can one eat 3000 calories at an over glorified salad bar.
What I really love though is ethnic buffets for they give you a chance to eat all the weird shit you never want to order off the regular menu. For example, I live near The Fuji Buffet: All You Can Eat Korean, Japanese, and Chinese Foods. Who’s the person that plans out all the stuff that they serve at the buffet? Has any authentic Asian person ever sat down to consume a real meal of their homeland and its EVER included the words "zesty seasoned fries"?!?! NO! But this is what these restaurants are trying to make our American, uncultured minds believe. It’s this weird shit that throws me off. Next to the Kung Pao Tofu and Mushu Pork, they throw in something completely out of left field. Sunday’s delicacy? Apple Pie. I do not approve. When the fuck did someone ever say “well that’s as Chinese as Apple Pie!” Never. If I want some terrible butchering of an American classic, I will go to McDonald’s instead.
Let's get some WORK DONE!
I would like to kvetch about plastic surgery and “routine” fixer uppers. What is with this new trend to feel so bad about a few crows toes, that you have to have a poison needle stuck into your skin to pertinently freeze the contours of your face and the natural wrinkles into a constant Halloween-mask smile. It’s like that scream character, totally retarded, yet everyone seems to do it because it’s the easy way out. “Oh shit sweetie, I forgot to think of a costume for the Negar’s Halloween bash. I might as well take out Billie’s scream mask from the 4th grade to the party instead.” Its just a shitty cheat to try and physically remove years of hardcore scouring and stressing. Or some people getting the color of your skin pigment changed, perplexes me. So staining your skin make you feel more powerful or better looking in society? Dang, congratulations, your just turned yourself into a poster board for fucked up western society and ideals. “Hey Cindy like my new tit-job?” I’m not really fond of my grandma getting a breast augmentation for her 100th birthday. “Neato Marve, nice and perky just like when we were kids…” Besides any kook crazy enough to judge your worth by the color or pattern of your skin would probably still feel like shit after having the largest organ in your body dyed too fight for the right to feel comfortable into society. Might as well get a sweet feline-fur-job to validate your past life as a leopardess princess. But I guess sometimes surgery is needed. Have you guys ever heard about people born as hermaphrodites? That would just SUCK. I mean and then some random doctor dude plays twister with testicles or ovaries. “Right hand scalpel, left hand nut sack.” Although it would be pretty funny if someone tried to impregnate themselves, but seriously how fucked up would the babies bee? Or would the just be like clones? I sure glad my parents don’t lie to me, because I asked them if that happened to me. But I’m still skeptical about the easter bunny being real.
- Ben Siegel
- Ben Siegel
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