Thursday, March 23

I feel like cutting off someone in public. Hard. Then if they feigned madness, I would know they were lying but give them the finger anyway in Japanese! If they thought they were tough or anything like that, I could always outrace them to safety in my 89' Civic. Or, on a whim, I could get out of my car and fist fight them. Except fist fights are for pussies. When he got out of his car, I would step on the gas and he would try to dodge my car while I tried to hit him. If he won at this game it wouldn't matter, because I could always send a pack of zombies over to his house when he was sleeping. Strong zombies. I would get his address by asking his family, who I would probably know because I'm popular and famous. If I didn't know his family, I would have to kill him right then because the zombies sure as hell wouldn't be able to find him without my help.

My English teacher from Alfred was this feminist champion who graded everything like we were in fourth grade like she was. She underlined words and wrote comments like, "put your thesis at the end of this paragraph," "well put," or "let's do it anal after class." She was hot but she gave me bad grades, especially on the papers I didn't turn in, so I didn't. If I was taking Mythology like Mr. Freeman, she would have graded this paper about Oedipus similarly. The paper, if you haven't seen it, is stunningly glorious like Aquafresh Toothpaste.

While you're at it, go download The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny fourteen more times to your computer. At the least. It kind of reminds me of a quick post I devised before I knew of its existence. Lemon Demon paints a better battle picture than I. I was a playhouse doodler eating crayons and he was Michaelangelo. I'd link to it, but I'm lazy. I'd be sitting on the couch right now if it weren't so far away. Also, then I'd be further from the computer and squinting. I would not typing either, because my arms aren't long enough to stretch from the living room to this room, oddly enough. One day they will be. And on that day I'll be able to enter the Long Man-Arms Competition and practically walk through to the finals and possibly win, if Billy Mays is having a bad enough day. But this is real life; it's not some Oxyclean Commercial where all the dirt is rubbed away. Sometimes you lose and you've got to accept it.

I laughed 'till I cried.

well, I just got an email of which I shall respond to because it's from my favorite pen pal I've ever had. Oh, and Kate sent me one too.


Monday, March 20

Three key things:

1.)I uppercutted a nun yesterday. It felt good because I hadn't done so in a while. And, as always, it was rewarding.

2.)I often fantasize about punching a cat. Not a kitten--a cat. But now that you mention it, punching a kitten would be nice. Square in the face would be optimal.

3.)I was wondering at what age you become uncool. It's cool to be in your 20's. It's cool to be almost 20. If you're in your teens, everyone younger than you is no longer cool. But despite this, I think all coolness ceases to exist at about 35. At this age, you can no longer act young or hip or get drunk on weekends at parties. You no longer have a chance with pretty floosies, so you better darn well be married by then. If not, the best thing to do is mope around, hanging out in bars with creepy Harley men who want to beat up people who don't act right. But me-I'm still cool. I will continue to be cool even after everyone considers me otherwise. I'll agree with them outwardly (that I'm uncool), because that's what someone cool would do, but deep down I'd know I'm still cooler than them, and I could beat them in backgammon if I wanted.

2 Weekend quotes from lunch:

Hobbit: Mary was crazy. She started talking about marriage after about a month of dating. I have the mentality of a 16 year old; I still giggle when someone says 'fart' or 'poopy'.
Joleen: Those words are funny! It doesn't mean you're immature!
James: "Dustin takes masturbation more seriously than having sex with a girl. He puts a lot more effort into it! Dustin knows it's true."
Dustin: continues eating his apple
James: "See that look? That's the look of acknowledgement!"
Dustin: "It's not necessarily that I masturbate too much--it's that I just broke up with my girlfriend and now I don't have a girlfriend to have sex with so that's not even an issue anymore."
Hobbit: "But did she break up with you because you jerk off too much?"
Dustin: "You know...I asked her that..."

I spent the weekend in Alfred. It was obviously great. I didn't wear green because I am a mutt without Irish in me. haha. Mutt. James and I were beer pong champions. Team Arab! booya. We only lost one game but it was the first game for us. We weren't warmed up. Besides, losing is better than winning sometimes. Like when you want to drink the beer. But once we got warmed up we were unstoppable and everyone lost to us. It was good to laugh at the losers who dared oppose our skills, but it was unfortunate because it meant I did not get close to drunk. James however, did. Two and a half beers makes him drunk. I'm serious. Silly James.

I did not drink on St. Pattie's day when everyone got extremely drunk though, because although my kidney's deserve punishment, since selling my right kidney on the black market for a bag of rock, I've decided to be a little more cautious. One girl was vomitting hardcore for an hour, but that is to be expected. It was her first time. What a noob.

I love everybody in Alfred though. Well, not everyone. But I love my friends from Alfred. Bob and AJ also came up and they're always hilarious, Bob a hundred times more so than anybody else. James tried not returning me, but he eventually did drive me back. It was a good deed on his part.

Today, I hung out with Neal. But he leaves tomorrow for 10 days in Hawaii. What a jerk. He's skipping four days of school to stay in Hawaii longer. We didn't hang out much because he was busy fulfilling his mother's wishes and delivering applications, but we did hang out some. I decided to visit him in late April in Vermont, since he and Caitlin have been wanting me to go since the dawn of time. And he agreed to go with me to Europe in August. That should kick ass. I might have to kill some bums to help finance the trip, or millionaires if we're on top of our game, but it'll work. The glass is half full. I'm not taking a trip to Negative Town. For example, I'll cut down on expenses by buying a one-way ticket instead of a round-trip. It's bound to work.

I don't know where I'd like to visit. I'd like to pick on the British for speaking succinctly, or the French for being rude and snobbish, or the Swedes for their cheese, or the Finish for living in Finland, or the Italians for being Italian. While I'm there though, I think I could get significantly closer to my life goal of Dragon punching at least one person of every nationality. I'll make sure Neal reminds me. Whatever I do, I'm not going to do what tourists do. I hate tourists. Taking in what the country presents to them as truth. Walking the tourist path. To see a country is not to see its landmarks or to buy souveniers that say "I went to Paris and all I got was this stupid shirt," to eat fancy cousine, or visit tourist attractions. It's to just wander the streets. I think Europe is a worse place to live, generally, than the US anyways by far, but it would be fun to see. It's good for everyone to travel in their life sometime and witness different cultures. I've lived in Japan and China, and even seen exotic places like Canada, and I just think it's worthwhile.
For the record, I hate two-part questions with a yes or no answer. If I agree with one part of the question, but disagree about the second part of the question, what do I do? It drives me nuts. Example: "Do you like Nachos and long walks on the beach?" Hell yes I like nachos, but hell no to long walks! What am I supposed to answer?! And since when do they go together? I try to rationalize it by weighing whether I like nachos more than I dislike long walks, but it sucks balls (and not in a good way). Some whoop-di-doo robot program will see I've checked yes to that question, and give me results accordingly, oblivious to the fact that the question is flawed like a villain from a fairy tale. It frizzles my tizzle. Whatever that means. So, if you are some web designing, diabolically sinister questionaire writer, quit it with the two part questions and I'll quit sending you nasty emails with virus attachments from an untraceable IP address and photoshopped but convincing photographs of your mom doing unkind things to goats.

In other news, I think a cougar is following me. And not in a good way.

ha. I totally steal lines from Canadians.


In the year 2006 I resolve to:
Blame Canada.