Sunday, August 29th

::The Brak Blog::

A Day in the Life


Ok, I know it's been like three weeks without an update, and that's sorry and lame. I appologize, I've had school to fuck around with, as well as other things.

In any case, here's the rundown of what my new school day looks like. Not that it's particularly interesting, but the bitching about it that will inevitably follow will make more sense if you know what's going on.

Hour 1: AP Chemistry

Mrs. Lueckenotto (I'll never learn to spell that) teaches this, and she's actually pretty cool. On the first day of real class she was already burning the crap out things. We cooked an egg with acid, which was neat. The same acid will eat holes through a t-shirt, which I was also impressed by. She also dropped this little thing of potassium chlorate (I think) into a glass of water and it freaked out and set on fire and flew around inside the glass and stuff.

Mrs. Lueckenotto also makes referances to her "dumb" class (Regular chemistry). She actually only did it once but it was really funny, because that class isn't even really "dumb", per say, I think the AP class is just full of really dorky people. She also keeps saying we'll have "Story Day" when she doesn't feel like teaching. I used to dread having chem first hour, but considering the rest of my day and the awesomeness of Lueckenotto, I don't think I'd have it any other way.

Hour 2: AP Composition/British Literature

Meh. I really hate english, and even more than that I hate british authors (for the most part) becuase they take to long to get to the point. The saving grace here is that Mrs. Reynolds teaches the class, so things at least won't be terribly borring. After being not more than a day into Frankenstein discussions, Kate and I were already into another manifestion of our "Beauty is Everywhere vs. Beauty is Nowhere" arugment, so I can only wonder what's going to happen later on.

The other good thing is that Rachel is the Teacher's Assistant (TA). I sit at the edge of the classroom, and she's in the little practice room off to the side, so we frequent exchange "wha that the fuck?!" glances and the like.

Homeroom: Ms. DeTray

Ms. DeTray seems like an OK teacher, she came to replace McCoy. I'm glad I had McCoy though, because this is her first year, so it could be all whatevery. In other news though, the entire homeroom hates me, or at least I think. I get there pretty early, so I sat the front of the room. Somehow, when everyone had filed in and sat down, I ended up with an empty one-desk radius around me.

No one wants to sit by the Radiskull. But that's ok becuase I hate my entire homeroom anyway.

Hour 3: Honors Pre-Calculus

Everytime I hear that word I think of cuticles. Like the little bits of skin on your fingernails. Do you think manicurists have Honors Pre-Cuticles? They should. In any case, I hate this class. On my summer packet there was this one problem assigned that was like a giant-ass long division problem. I started it, not knowing the answer doesn't terminate until like 20 decimal places later, about 3/4ths of the page over.

So I start to run out of room at around 11 decimal places. I write next to it "It's long division. I get the point, and I'm out of room, so this isn't going to get done, sorry." You know, as in "ha ha! You asigned a senseless problem that's concept I understand, so after illustrating this, I refuse to finish the dumbass problem" kind of way. I got my packet back two days ago and it said next to that "How about finishing the assigned work?!"

Fuck you ghod. I do what I want. and what I want does not include long division. Mr. Kennedy would have thought it was funny. Speaking of things Mr. Kennedy thought were funny... I never did get my Kansas Assessment test back (the one where I made fun of all the people in the word problems and drew pictures for the problems I didn't understand).

Lunch:

I have god damn A Lunch. Which is like 11-ish. Sometimes earlier. It therein ceases to be Lunch and becomes Breakfast, which, while annoying, is kinda nice, because that's a meal I typically miss out on.

And not to be all "OMG!" but jeez are there a lot of people in that lunch that I know. We've gotta work to cram everyone at the same table, and on occasion, people stand. Which makes me feel horrible... We've somehow become a "popular" table. But not really. We looked around one day and realized we were one of about 3 co-ed tables in the entire packed lunchroom, so that's somewhat redeeming.

Hour 4: AP United States History

This class is just work. Work work work. Which makes sense because it's a college class. But I really hate work. I'm just hoping the subject matter will be interesting enough to drag me though. Now though, an example of how fscking board we get at school.

The bell rings, and everyone comes into history. We're still talking because Mrs. Sullivan isn't there. Hank and I decide to start singing "Beat It" by Michael Jackson. Emily walks in late, and I proclaim that she and Hank have to have a knife fight like in the Beat It Video. Emily refuses, even though Hank would have done it. So I grab a pen, he grabs a pencil, and we head up to the front of the room.

We just grabbed eachother's wrists because neither of us had any rope to tie them with like in the real video, and then started to try and poke eachother with the writing instruments. Much to the amusement of the now on-looking class, Hank got in a hit, and I went down. I got up then, and we bowed, and returned to our seats just as Sr. Millie wheeled herself into the classroom.

It was a good day.

Hour 5: German II

This class doesn't really mandate an explination. It's the same creepy-but-likeable-in-a-sympathetic-sort-of-way Mr. Provencher, and the same weirdos as last year. We're just older. And Lydia left us for French, because she's a French whore.

Hour 6: Prayer and Sacraments

As I walked into this class I realized I'D ALREADY TAKEN IN EVERY YEAR OF MY LIFE FOR THE PAST 8 YEARS. You've learned every teachable thing about religion by the third grade. Quite literally. At the very least we could have studdied the bible like jewish kids studdy the Torah. As useless of a tallent as it would be, it'd still be kickin to be able to rattle off random and applicable bible verses. You know, for asthetics.

Mr. Koester is creepy and reminds me of a character in the Godfather reject. Like he ended up on the cuttingroom floor. Plus he has really good hearing, which makes left-handed sarcastic comments kinda hard to get in to the person behind you without revieving and evil look.

I've decided that every time he glares at me, I'll glare right back. As if to say: "How dare you make me sit through this crappy class. I know everything you're going to say, or at least the gyst. And if I don't, then that's because it's not important." In addition, I'm not even all up with the religion, so this class presents and excellent layer of complete and utter uselessness.

Hour 7: Advanced Debate

Same as last year, sans seniors + novices. This years topic is UN Peacekeeping, which is going to be a big mess. Big, big mess.

So that's my day in a nutshell. Work's been going ok as well. I got my schedule worked out there so it doesn't mess with guitar or debate/forensics, which is really handy.

I showed up one day and by the time I was getting ready to leave I realized how totally sad I've gotten. I was all excited because we got a new hotplate. We had an old groody and bad hotplate in the back. One time I cooked a can of tomoato soup on it. I ate the whole can and felt kinda sick. But anyway, we got a new one, so I was all excited to find something to make on it.

Not only that but we got a new stool as well. It's up at the front so at least now I can sit down while I do nothing. That job is going to be the death of me.

There was also a total 'awwww' moment. Some old lady brought in a bag of clothes. When I finally got around to tagging them in, I just had to laugh. She had two shirts, and they had embroidered kitties all over them. I wanted to die it was so funny old lady ish. She came back to get them the next day and I had to try really hard from saying anything like "OMG you kitty shirts are sooooo cute!!1!111!!``~1!"

Which is why I really should quit.

Another reason I should quit is because it's in the center of a radical conservative hotbed. I was wearing my Kedwards shirt yesterday...

[A Note on 'Kedwards': When we were watching the Democratic National Convention on its final night at my house, there were a bunch of people holding giant signs that said "Kerry" on one side, and "Edwards" on the other. The kept spinning them because they were all crazy and excited to kick the crap out of the republicans. Sean made the comment that the signs looked like they said "Kedwards" when you spun them. Since, I've used the term quite liberally (the only pun I'll ever make, promise): Team Kedwards, the Kedwards Ticket, my Kedwards sign, my Kedwards sign... etc.]

Anyway, I'm wearing the Kedwards shirt at work. Some old lady (not cat-shirt-lady, who I like) came in and she looked up and saw me and stoped in her tracks. She slowly creeps up to the counter and says "Keeeerrrrrryyy... What is that?"

Me: *Confused Look*
OldLady: Now... why are you on for Kerry?
Me: ...I'm a flaming liberal. What can I say?
OldLady: Hmmm... You don't look like a flaming liberal
Me: *Pause* Do you something to pick up?

Bleh. Crazy old woman. I really wanted to school her ass and talk about how Kerry's all about the health care reform and getting us out of fscking Iraq and balancing the budget and getting environmental standards back into gear and so on and so forth.

But I declined to do so, because she mighta gotten all pissy and asked to have me fired. Mep.

My grandma gave me some McDonalds coupons the other day. I don't really know why. And I really don't even like McDonalds that much, but they're all for Chicken McNuggets 2.0 ("chicken selects") which might not be that bad. And I'd feel crappy if I didn't at least use one.

But I got to looking at them, and some of them are really weird. Two that caught my eye. The first being FREE Big Mac (from 11:59 PM to 3:59 AM) or FREE Egg McMuffin (from 4:00 AM to 5:59 AM). This made sense, sort of. Sandwhich in the afternoon, muffin thing for breakfast. Except not. You can eat a Big Mac for free from Lunch time to 4 in the morning. 16 hour window. And the egg thing from 4-6 AM. 2 Hour window.

Yes, I'd like to solve the puzzle.
"Arbitrary Motherfuckers."

That's correct Tom! You've won the Wheel of Fortune! Tell him what his prize is!

"The other jacked up McDonalds coupon!"

Yeah. The other coupon gets you, with purchase of an Extra Value Meal, a 1 Piece Checken Selects. That's a single little chunk of chicken. Shouldn't it then be Chicken Select. It's hard to select from options when you don't have any. Who sells 1 piece anything?

1 Piece Popcorn Selects

1 Piece Post-It Selects

1 Piece Lego Selects

1 Piece Facial Tissue Selects

Only McDonalds could be so brash and still get away with it. This wednesday I'm off work, and I'm totally getting the 1 PC Chicken Selects. Then I'm going to get all "This is fucking it?!" with McDonalds and not go in there for another 4 years.

I was thinking about condoms the other day (I saw a commercial, ok?) and realized two things: They have the worst advertising EVER. It's so... lacking in any taste whatsoever. And also, imagine how awkward it would be to buy those things.

On the one hand, if you go in there all confident and all "I'm going to have sex" the people are going to be like "The Hell you are. You're just bluffing and trying to look cool." Whereas if you go there and try to be discreet in buying them, everyone's going to know and the jig will be up and they'll make stupid jokes and elbow you in the side and wink a whole lot.

The entire thing's a big mess, similar in some cases to UN Peacekeeping. I call it the Condom Paradox.

Speaking of paradoxes, I looked at the McDonalds coupons again. They're an official olympic sponsor. Am the only one that thinks that makes no sense whatsoever?

The cowboys decided a long time ago:
School if for people who don't already
know everything there is to know.




As was prophesized by Tom at 02:07 PM CST
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Saturday, August 7th

::The Brak Blog::

Panama


Washington D.C. is crazy fuckin' mad. Just in general. And it's really just the little things that make the differance. For instance: here in Kansas City, when you get on an escaltor, you stand on the damn thing until it reaches then top. In DC, people practically sprint up those things. I dunno why everyone's in such a hurry.

And it's not just the pedestrains either. The motorits are worse. You'd better make damn sure you adhere to the WALK/DON'T WALK code of the crosswalk, because they'll fuckin' mow you down. I'm not sure though, between Kansans not knowing how to drive, and Missourians driving way to fast on their shit-riffic roads, this area's probably pretty dangerous in terms of drivers as well.

Their animals over there are also really gutsy. I sometimes get a kick out of throwing my hands up, ala Godzilla, and making growling noises at birds, just so I can watch them get all freaked out and fly/run away. DC birds don't do that. They just kinda give you a look and keep peckin' at the ground. They're so close to you, and so totally don't give a damn, that a few times I pratcially tripped over one. Same with the squirrels. Here if you look at a squirrel wrong, it bolts for it's little tree-nest thing. DC squirrels just kinda sit there. I wanted to pet one, and I could've, thats how close you can get, but I figured that getting bitten by a squirrel would only instigate the terrorist threat.

So I declined.

One of my favorite places we visited was the Supreme Court Building. We didn't go in or anything, and while yes the building was neat-looking, I was enjoying myself for a different reason. I ran up all the steps to the building alone (no one else was there at the time) singing the tune to Rocky. [Dun dunna dun da dun dunna dun, Dum dunna dun da dun dunna dun, da dun dunna dun, bah bum! Danna duh! Danna duh! Danna duh, danna dun dun dunna dum! Danna dan dan dan dan dun dum!] It really was as awesome as you're thinking, I promise.

Another thing that never ceases to amaze me is my familiy's capacity to entertain itself at the most random points in time. My mom and sister arrived back from getting soda pop from the vending machines or something and they were all bitchy about these two girls they'd run into on the elevator. And how they had jacked up the button-pushing process entailed in the riding of the elvator. In any case, we see these girls running around through the window in our room.

The hotel is set up like an arena, each floor is a cirlce-shape with all the rooms looking out on this central atrium thing. We were on floor 5 of 9, so we had a decent view of all the floors. Anyway, we watched these crazy girls running around and being stupid for a while. We gave them the names "Blue Shorted Slut" and "Red Shirted Slut". They were soon joined by two males donned in full Abercrombie & Fuck attire. These two were donned "Fags". (Mind you, I don't use that term as a generic insult, because that is lame, but had you seen these two, you would have understood.) So as the sluts and fags pranced about, I grabbed my camera with the kickass zoom. I was also sitting sideways in this chair that sits in front of the window.

My mom walks in on us as we're spying intently on the Sluts and Fags. She cracks some joke about how it's just like Read Window. Funny thing being, it was. This threw me into a Jimmy Steward impression, and after that the gloves were off. I kept pretending I was in a wheel chair and tried to scoot about the room. It didn't work, so I just put my "broken leg" up, and watched with my camera.

Eventually, the Fags and Sluts were joined by a friend of mine from earlier that day. I'd been standing in line for some breakfast cereal, when she cut me. That would have been one thing, but she was wearing a 'Puma' brand jersey. I instintively yelled "PUMA!" at the top of my lungs, as is the proper means by which to own someone in Puma attire. She turned around and gave me the dirtiest look I think I've ever gotten. Then the bitch took the last of the Furit Loops.

Anyway, she showed up with our previous group of friends, and I got really excited. In all honesty they weren't that interesting, they just kept playing with the elevators and running in circles. We were just exceptionally bored. The story takes another interesting turn though. I, being Jimmy Stewart at the time, decided I should go out to intercept our prey. So I casually limped around until I found them.

They gave me a "why the fuck are you limping around?" look. I simply commented "Bubonic Plauge" and made a grimmacing glance towards my leg. The apparently bought it because they all moved away form me suprisingly fast. Anyway, as I'm fake-limping back to my room, I pass two young sorta-hispanic girls. They became "The Spainards". I get back to the room and return to my post only to find that the Spainards were hunting the same prey we were. It was awesome. We made code signs to eachother, but it stopped when I accidentally flipped them off.

Eventually everyone went to bed, and the Spainards came running towards our room. I yelled for Erin to shut the blinds and kill the lights. We did. The Spainards passed us by, like some figurative angel of death. All was well. Playing Rear Window kicks ass.

Our last night in town, I tried shrimp that was seasoned with the same stuff as Buffalo Wings. Dear god... it was like an orgy in my mouth. Shrimp = good, spicy shrimp = orgasmic. I gotta wonder though, how much would it suck to be a shrimp. You get harvested in mass quanities, they amputate all your limbs, then they rip of your skin and cook you. Or maybe you get cooked first, I don't know. I'm just glad they cut off the heads... that'd be too much for me to take. With the little shrimp mouth, and the little shrimp eyes... Not that I'd feel bad about eating it, it's just a shrimp, but I'd get freaked out that it wasn't really dead and was going to bite me or something.

In the airport, getting ready for the flight back home, my sister demanded that we stop by the Cinnabun, this cinnimon bun place that they only have in airports for some odd reason. They always went there in those Animorphs books I remember, and they weren't in an airport then. Do they even make those books anymore? I sure hope not.

Anyway, the guy gave us the messed up Cinnabun. Except it was messed up like it was too big. This sucker was literally as big as Erin's head. Between the two of us, we ate the entire thing, but my god it wasn't pretty. I only prayed that the Cinnabun wouldn't choose to get it's digestive revenge on the flight home. That'd be awkward.

While we were waiting to get home they needed someone to give up their ticket in exchange for a first class spot on another later flight, and a first class round trip ticket to anywhere the airline flies. I wanted to give mine up. My parents wouldn't let me. When I am king, I will fly places first class for no reason at all. And then I'll live in airports. And change my name to Tom Hanks. and maybe I'll make a movie about it. A move that I never ended up seeing. How depressing.

So anyway, that was my trip to D.C. We also saw monuments and stuff, and the Air and Space museum was fun. I kept yelling "Long Live Mother Russia" at the Soviet rocket models. This is why they can't take me places anymore.

Since I got my job, I can't go to visit the kids at LINC anymore, so they made me cards encouraging me to quit my job and come back. [They Rock Hard]. The cards and the children. Go read the cards, then come back and finish the entry.

I also got a debit card, so now I can order stuff on the Inter-net.
And Ethan and I harassed Kate/Lydia/Madeline at their places of employment yesterday, which was cool.

I went to a John Kerry rally last night, and I brought Sean with me. He bought a "Buck Fush" shirt, which was kickass, and I got a regular "Go Us!" Kerry/Edwards one. There were also some pro-bush fucktards there to support the abortion truck. (Don't ask) On the way out, Sean stole one of their signs and ran away and threw it in a trash bin. Sean wins the "Stupid but Hardcore Politically-Motivated Act of the Month" award. Raaah.

In other news, I'm going on sabbatical. I won't be online or going out anywhere (except work) for a week. Partially because I'm grounded, partially because I've neglected an entire summer's worth of work that needs to get done anyway. It'll be good for me. I also need to get around to finishing my screenplay, with is about 75% completed. If you need to reach me for some dire purpose, I'm still allowed the telephone (to some extent) and it's a fellony for my parents to intercept my postage, so that's cool too.

Not that any of your will miss the Radiskull, but I thought I should tell you regardless.

Procrastination finally caught up with this Cowboy.
I guess my luck just isn't what it used to be.
Which was crappy anyway, so that's not saying much.
I'm leaving. Right. Now.

As was prophesized by Tom at 11:58 AM CST
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