Saturday, December 10

How to make a barber mad and possibly get a free hair cut:

First, ask for the nicest barber. Say skill doesn't matter as long as they are a nice person, and that you'll wait until they are free.

Second, be very vague about your description of what you want. Say yes to however the barber suggests.

When getting your hair cut, don't look. Say that it'll ruin the surprise if you watch.

When it's all done and she says, "how's that?" open your eyes and go, "NO! omg what did you do!? Alright, just shave it off. I don't want to look at it anymore. I might as well have no hair at all." Convince her this is what you want.

When she takes the buzzer out and first shaves off a patch of hair, exclaim, "what are you doing? I was just kidding! You were really going to shave off my hair?"

By now she'll be angry or confused or baffled/exasperated. When she expresses herself, just say, "I'm just kidding, continue."

When you finally have no hair, act utterly disappointed. Say that you wouldn't have to look this way if she hadn't screwed it up so bad the first time. Also, say you're never coming back here again, and pay them while sticking out your tongue at the cashier. Then give them a hug and thank them very much.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When I read something funny, at first I laugh. I may laugh hysterically or just moderately and briefly. Then I get depressed because I think: if there are people out there this funny, it makes me less funny by comparison, and I lose self-esteem.

Caitlin told me that I was not Maddox one time, and it was true. The trueness that was that statement awed me. In essence, things are only funny when said by certain people, people that seem like they would say it. Thus, when my friend Nick has very low standards about women and his catch phrase is, "I'd do her," it's funny. Or when someone is very proud of himself and exploits it...likewise. I need to find what I'm good at and push it.

Sometimes I look at my tummy and question it. Like, "how do you stay so tone when I don't do anything to you?" It must be my only good gene. Based on my current exercise regime, I should be fat or at least have a beer belly. Maybe I need to drink more beer.

A very relaxing day for me is one where I listen to music all day. I love the songs on the montages at halopro.com. I have 7.25 gigs worth of them on my computer, and that's after I deleted the unworthy ones. Montages combine the two things I love most in life: halo and music. I think that's why I love to watch them. And they're funny.

Roommate A is doing his homework problems on a paper towel roll. He seriously just rolls it down to move on and it extends on down to the floor. I told him he's stupid but he still feels justified. Then again, he cooks all his meals himself. And by cooks, I mean microwaves. Sometimes he tries to juggle his soccer ball inside our small room and of course it hits stuff like lamps and my computer and me. Sometimes I uppercut him. It all works out in the end.

I sleep at really odd hours. Sometimes I am concious when my roommates talk. Roommate C always talks on the phone with his drug buddies and tells stories about his previous night partying. That is how I learn about him: in my sleep. He does about a million drugs. I tried to count them one time but I got high off his clothes that smell like marajuana and lost count. He deals marajuana successfully right from our room, so we get the sketchiest looking, puffy coat wearing white boys to hit the Buffalo streets in here. And even though he's so sketchy and speaks like a ghettoed-out retard, he still fixes time to write papers and study for hours on aderol. I'm impressed.

I used to have a kid in my English class who had all these worthless but interesting facts in his head bursting daily into our classroom air. He had long hair, a huge (note: HUGE) beard, radical ideas, a really low voice, a humorous take on life and he was very intelligent. This would have made him cool, except he also had long fingernails (I noticed one day as he was gesturing with his hands). One day I sat nearby him by accident and discovered he smelled bad too. That's two strikes, "you're out!" Anyway, one day one of his worthless stats was that people are something like 90% more likely to laugh when in the company of others. It makes sense because we laugh at what is odd and striking to our expectations so if we're only getting ideas from our head they are what we're used to hearing. I think I am an exception to this rule. I laugh by myself wayyy more than most people. I kind of weird myself out when I analyze it. I am blessed in that I recall funny things easily. Also, I'm easily amused, so that helps. I think I appreciate the things my "self" thinks of more than most.

In sum, I am happy to be me sometimes. Yayyyy!!

Friday, December 9

I always end up staying up all night until my 8am class, with intent to go back to sleep. But sometimes that doesn't happen and I end up being awake. This is stupid.

I've had a headache for the last week or so. It won't go away. I got it last Thursday I believe. I thought it was from sleep deprivation, or possibly dehydration, but I woke up with my headache revived and it keeps coming back off and on. I think it's from lack of vitamins; I don't eat vegetables unless it's by pure chance.

I went to wash my hands tonight, and when I pushed the soap squirter button, it missed my hands and landed on my shoe. I didn't see how it happened, but I was very ashamed.



I encountered a girl while playing Halo2 a few hours ago. At least she claimed to be one. She was commenting on my gamertag and how incorrect it was, (mine is Male Dominance). She said, "it should be female dominance because females are better....the only thing guys are good for is sex." Little kids sound like girls all the time, and are constantly told so (as is the trash talking custom), so I had been pretty sure up until that point that I had been talking to a little prepubecent kid. I tried to haggle out the truth from her/it, but she maintained that she was indeed a female even though she was playing Halo2. This throws off everything I ever knew about video games and how females don't play them. I could go on about how girls don't play first person shooters because they suck at them, and they don't have the testosterone to appreciate the thrill of killing, but I think it mostly has to do with how nerdy males, with their abused anonyminity, say the most offensive things in the spirit of self-amusement. Over a year ago, when the game began, girls on Halo2 did exist but they were harassed unmercifully with constant sex banter. If I were female, I would soon tire of this child's play too. Now, they are as extinct as the dinosaurs...except they are (I've just discovered) wanton to reappear just to prove me wrong. Before this, I hadn't heard of one in months. Doubleyou-Tea -eff, mates.

Important to note:
I will eat your soul...when you aren't looking.

Thursday, December 8

Ugh...

Finals suck ass.

That's all I got to say.

Tuesday, December 6

What's wrong with this picture? (it is a Japanese Condom Ad)




1.) since when does Koala Bears wearing hard helmets signify safe sex?
2.) Why does the condom look like a cannon on wheels?

3.) The Koalas are having sex.

4.) They are wearing specially designed "ears poke through" hard helmets
5.) Koalas don't need to practice safe sex.
6.) The words "2 PIECES" are in English.
7.) Where are the Koala noses?
8.) The Japanese lettering says "Holla at ya, boy!"

I like to ride my camel too. It is our most economical model.



I'd just like to let everyone know that this is my girlfriend. Isn't she nice? I like her for her....personality.


Okay. Actually that's not true. Keith was cheering me up, but it made me think, instead...

Most people would be glad to be that good looking, but the truth is, anyone who you thought was your friend probably wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything other than trying to get with you (even the females). Friendship would be a facade. People would smile next to you like you were a prize to be won. If you wanted to be a person, this could be bad. So the next time you see a gorgeous model, pity them, for they will never have any true friends.

Ever.


Except for me. *ahem*

The problem is, being hot pretty much automatically makes you socially inept. If there was a magical thing that turned women into stuck up bitches, it would be the hotness gene. I'm reminded of the conversation I had with Josh about the dream lady--the Late Bloomer. This is the situation where a girl goes through high school normal, so she develops a good personality, without the side affects of being pretty, then she develops looks. This way she has learned to cope with the world without manipulating people and receiving special treatment. So theoretically, somewhere out there are girls with the best of both worlds, the trick is finding them.

Monday, December 5

Men are from Mars, Women Aren't

Here's a prime example of "Men Are from Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix:

The professor told his class one day: "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story.The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his English students: Rebecca and Gary.
-------------------------------------------
THE STORY:

(first paragraph by Rebecca)

At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)

Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)

He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4."Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary)

Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live.Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)

This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)

Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of F--KING TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air-headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)

Asshole.

(Gary)

Bitch

(Rebecca)

F__K YOU - YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)

Go drink some tea - whore.

(TEACHER)

*A+ - I really liked this one.*
Merry Friggin' Christmas, Bitches!

A lot people have relationship problems at some point. They mope/are down because of a girl or guy that dumped them, for whatever reason, and they inevitably feel worthless and that they will never find that special someone (the goal?). I don't have that problem because I have no relationships. I can go about my business chipper as a piece of wood, not getting hurt--not experiencing the relationship pain of others my age. But what happens when I do think I have someone finally and then get burned? Will I be way worse than everyone else? Is one hard blow, when relied upon, worse than several? Having thought of this, I take into account and expect that I am going to get pwned one day by a relationship. Take that you stupid bitch. Hurt my feelings will you? Well I saw it coming, so there. If you were a ferret, I would spin you around by your tail at a high velocity then let go. That way, you'd know how I feel.


<---The Ogrefish can be found 16,000 feet below sea level, probably to avoid getting hurt from relationships. He is pissed because he's under a lot of pressure.

Sunday, December 4

Hey all. Here's an update post until I get things sorted out.

First, sorry about that large retarded space by the Links. I can't seem to get rid of it yet. Still workin' on that, along with my mental handicaps.

In other news, I've reached over 1000 hits on my page today. Now, some of you may think that I live for the excitement of seeing my hit counter go up each day and that I poop my pants when I get a good score. That's not true. I only wet myself a little.

So, if you want to make me happy, just click refresh like a hundred times. Feel pleased knowing I'll go, "holy crap!" at least once, and think I'm really special.


I accidentally came across this picture which was this girl talking about her baby and the responsibilities involved. I told her there aren't responsibilities in taking care of a plastic baby and it looked like Cabbage Patch Kid. Seriously, she can't trick me into thinking that baby is real. I know a plastic doll when I see it.

This is a real product for a real purpose.

This is my favorite breakfast cereal.


I told you I liked Lindsay Lohan. Lindsay, if you are reading this, I want to get together. I mean, Emma Watson is hot too, but she's not legal for kidnapping yet. Either way, Whoreminee is pretty nice.

And of course, Will Farrell continues his excellent acting as George W.

In the year 2006 I resolve to:
Blame Canada.