06/26/2004: "Holding Out For A Hero"
I'm a slacker, I don't post enough, blah blah blah.
School's done, so I once again have more time than usual on my hands to sit around and do absolutly nothing.
A few weeks ago after school we were at Double Dragon off Main for some chinese buffet. I grabbed a pair of chopsticks because I'm hardcore and know how to use them. After eating my meal of happy and deliciously fatty asian food, I sat back, content, and began to examine the small packaging the chopsticks had come in. On it was written (with exact formatting):
Welcome to Chinese Restaurant.
please try your Nice Chinese Food With Chopsticks
the traditional and typical of Chinese glorious history
I really love poor translations. I also love diversity, not only because it keeps things from being monotonous, but if for nothing else because it serves for humorous mishaps. For a similar example: [Take Off Every Zig].
A week and one day ago I got my driver's license. I went to the first place and took the test (passed with a 92%, bitches) and then down to the department of revenue, which was hoppin' as always. My picture looks like shit, but then again that probably has to do with the fact that I look like shit. But whatever, it's all good.
A week or so ago April Bauman got this post-it note on her car that reads as follows:
If you have an extra 8-12 hours per week and desire to earn an extra $800-$1,000 a month,
Contact: Tracy At: 913-381-6585
Flexible Hours- No Experiance Necessary-- Will Train
*cough*prostitution-ring*cough* I mean come on. Tracy?! I'm suprised that number doesn't forward you to "Dollar Bill's Bitches and Hoes- Escort Service". How do I know it doesn't? Because we got Matt Lanning to call it. Repeatedly. For the first 3 or 4 days we just left obnoxious messages on her machine. Then one day this guy actually started picking up the phone. Matt got all indignant and chewed the guy out about not returning his calls and so on and so forth.
They stopped answering the phone after about 4 or 5 calls from different phones, all requesting to talk to Tracy. We never did reach Tracy though. How dissappointing. Feel free to call her though, and give her my best regards.
Lizz and I bought a tabloid the other day. god damnit are those a lot of fun. Anything with the title "Bigfoot Baby Found Outside Neverland Ranch" is fine in my book. Between that, the vaguest crossword puzzles ever, and the random photoshoping of celebrities into strange photographs (Bush as a ballerina, the Pope as Spider-Man), tabloids yield endless amounts of fun. I'd addopt the bigfood baby, wouldn't you?
The other day I was out and about, and I saw an Orange El Camino. It was some kind of act of god. Those cars are so incredibly stupid/ugly, but the fact that it was orange makes it almost as bitchin' as Sean Bucklew's trashed-out-non-painted one.
In a spontaneious adventure to Oak Park Mall *gag* with Brgid, Caitlin, Mindy, Pat, Paul, and Lizz, we were sitting around eating at the food court. Actually everyone else was eating, (I was doing my part to enforce the stereotype that everyone from Missouri is too poor to eat lunch), and I was just sitting there making fun of random passers by, like usual. Anyway, I started to bash on this girl that looked like Nichole Garrison (psycho-hose-beast from my 1st semester religion class), when to my horror she was Nichole Garrison! Ahhhhhhhhhh *screams forever*
Mindy, Caitlin, Brigid, Lizz, and Paul all recoil in horror, because they went to gradeschool with her. Pat just sits there with this dumb look on his face as he continues to eat his pizza. To our relief she puts on an apron and takes up her post at the prestegious Pretzel Time, so at least that way if she saw us, all she could do was wave. Somehow though, Brigid was convinced if we got up and ran, that Nichole would chase us. Lizz then expressed her concern because she can't run very fast. I said that we'd simply leave her behind as an obstacle, and Nichole would just eat her.
At this point Pat starts spazzing out and does a spit-take of some pepsi-product all over his shit-brown-plastic-lunch tray in a fit of laughter. The thing being, what I'd said initially wasn't terribly funny at all, but the fact that it made Pat vomit to some degree was hilarious. I can totally dig humor at other people's expense.
As we were walking through the labryinth that is Oak Park Mall, we noticed these creepy pseudo-punk kids waving to us from across the 2nd floor. Judging by my company, I figured I'd be the only one who would possibly know pseudo-punks, and went to go see who it was. Turns out none of us knew those people and they just snickered and walked away.
Nobody owns me like that. Nobody. I doned sunglasses and was about to go and do something equally random (I had planned to just yell "peen!" because I'd have thrown them off), but Pat stopped me. He pointed out to me that the pseudo-punks were all bigger than he, I and Paul, and that pseudo-punks are also liable to have short tempers; the end result being me getting beat up.
I really wanted to own them back, but for Pat's sake, I let them go. This once. Mark my words though, I'll have my revenge.
I was sitting in the mall at some other point during the fucking day we spent in there, and I got to thinking: if there were a Nuclear Holocaust tomorrow, where would I want to be. Initially I was tempted to say "Oak Park Mall" because of the numerous supplies, but then I realized that I'd be stuck with all the Oak Park Mall Crowd as well. I was then envisioning the mad riots of people raiding abercrombie stores, and then the sick realization they'd get when they finally figure out that NO ONE GIVES A FLYING FUCK AND ANYONE WHO DOES DESERVES RADIATION POISIONING.
Me: Why don't you go out and see if it's safe yet?
A.Fitch: But shouldn't I like be wearing like some kind of like protective gear or like something? Like?
Me: Nah! Don't worry about it. You paid 45 bucks for that t-shirt, I'd swear that it comes with build-in radiation shielding!
A.Fitch: I don't know...
Me: *magnum* Your clothing cost 10 times that of mine, but you bleed just as fast, you selloutpieceofshit!
On second though, being stuck in a mall full of mall people wouldn't be that bad. I'd round up all the witty/edgy people and we'd simply go on massive owning sprees with all the lameass mall kids.
Random dispelling of urban legend:
blondmoments116: did you know that when you sneeze, junk flies out of your nose faster than 630 MPH?
Daemon1330: if it was actually moving that fact it would blow a snot-shaped hole in your hand.
Think about it you morons: Baseballs going 70 will knock a grown man unconscious. Snot moving 9 times that fast would definatly fuck you up to some degree.
Hank's birthday party was the other night. Lizz and I pooled money to get him The Big Lebowski, AKA The Dude, which was pretty cool. He also got Gacy... speaking of which: John Wayne Gacy was executed on my birthday, how odd is that? Anyhow, we just sat there and listened to Tim Dixon play random tunes on guitar, and Hank punch out familiar melodies to dance tunes on the keyboard.
During the course of all this, Brian Gutek busts out the strike-anywhere matches and we decide to burn random shit. That's all fine and good, but then we found some bricks and built up this little furnace thing. One powerpoint presentation and an issue or rollingstone later, we were all smoke-smitten and had managed to incinerate a couple of sticks, so that was fun.
Midway through the experiance, Brian determined that we needed more wood to burn. Hank's brother Peter's friend was standing there, so Brian addressed him as Wood Boy and told him to go get us more fuel. The kid just stands there and disgustedly says:
Kid: Don't call me 'Wood-Boy'
Gutek: What would you rather be then?! 'Erection Boy'!?
-span of silence-
Kid: *excitedly* Yeah!
Gutek: *shakes head in disbelief*
And that's how someone gets the nickname 'Erection Boy'. The moral being, don't fuck with Brian Gutek, lest he have to go Gacy on you.
Sean came over here a night or so ago, and we watched Ghost in the Shell. I felt bad because I kept drifting off during lengthy dialogue sequences, and subsequently the plot was lost on me early into the film, but it was still fun. Made in 1995, this movie basically inspired the Matrix, and features a unique duality: Just enough nude parts to attract the perverts, and a plot just confusing enough to attract the geeky cult followings. Anime is evil on so many different levels...
Speaking of weird movies that I've seen, today Lizz and I watched 2001: A Space Odyessy. I must say, this is one totally awesome film. It's one of the few that accuratly portrays what space would really be like, and the soundtrack totally kicks. Plus the conclusion is totally gripping... I highly recomend. If you've seen this movie before, leave a comment, we need to talk.
On a final movie comment, what the fuck is up with 'Sleepover'. Hollywood is officially out of ideas... I knew B Actor Ronnie Regan biting the dust was a bad sign... I mean seriously. The theatrical poster has 3 separate pictures of the protagonists, their love interests, and the conflicting female pack. They're labled "The Friends", "The Guys", and "The Rivals" respectively. Does it get any more generic?
Group of friends with high-standing moral qualities about friendship and religion are looking for love. Their saught-after pride: A group of arrogant and misinformed, shallow pseudo-athletes. Their competition: A pack of girls who are also after The Guys, and who just all happend to have superior bust lines and wear more makeup.
Come on. It's a classic hero-villan setup, except without swords, blood, explosions, dragons, or gratuitous sex scenes; the only things that save face for the hero-villan template-genre of movies! I decided to make my own [Poster For Sleepover].
If only Sleepover was a foreign film, the translation errors would be funny to maximum!
If there were a Nuclear Holocaut, I'd want to be in the company of cowboys.
Only with their powers could the world be rebuilt to a newer state of awesome.