Friday, December 17, 2010

Rudolf, the Brownshirt Nazi

Rudolf, the brownshirt Nazi
had a very shiny gun
and if you ever saw it
you would prob'ly turn and run

all of the other Germans
used to laugh and call him names
they never let poor Rudolf
vote in any German games

then one foggy Kristallnacht
Hitler came to say
Rudolf with your gun so bright
won't you slay my foes tonight?

then all the Germans loved him
as they shouted out with glee
Rudolf, the brownshirt Nazi
you'll go down in history!
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Friday, October 29, 2010

A day in the park with a dinosaur...PART 3

Robert Frost the sad dinosaur was still very sad.

Robert Frost was so sad everyday. "I'm so sad" Robert Frost would say to himself on a daily basis. He would try to do lots of things to feel better about himself. He tried eating apple cobbler, drinking pure sugar, getting friends, and even using the interblags. "I've tried everything to be happy" Robert Frost told his new friends. "I just feel like nothing is working." Robert Frost needed a lady dinosaur in his life. "There is this dinosaur I really like, but vlad, this guy I hate, also likes her." Robert Frost hatched a plan to get with the lady dinosaur he liked. He folded lots and lots of eggs out of leaves, which was part of an inside joke he shared with the lady dinosaur. "Look at all these cool eggs I folded" he would tell her. Robert Frost didn't get the courage to show her the eggs though. "I'm just so afraid." Eventually Robert Frost died, and was very alone. The last thing Robert Frost said was "I'm very alone." Poor Robert Frost. Too bad he never showed his lady dinosaur friend his folded eggs. Maybe then he wouldn't have been so alone. "I wish I wasn't so alone" Robert often said to himself.

Oh well. The end.

P.S. Kyle, Robert was a sad scary dinosaur. : )

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Wednesday, October 27, 2010


Oh reminiscing stories, how you haunt me.

Since apparently James, Bishop, and I are the only ones who pay attention to this blog (with the possibly notable exception of Liz), I suppose it is my turn to post. I say that because James was the last post, and Bishop is too self conscience to post on his own blog. Some of you might wonder how I know that Bishop still comes on here. I assume those people either don't know me, or don't know Bishop (most likely both).

In any case (or, as the case may be) we are in college. It's a little weird, admittedly. I skip a lot of class (shocker) and need to write an essay tonight (only 5-6 pages, due tomorrow [edit: later today]). I assume the rest of you are still procrastinators and slackers as well. I have a job making lots of money, but I am looking for another [different?] one. James has a job making a little bit of money. I'm sure their is a constant search for another one. Bishop doesn't have a job, doesn't care about one (I assume. I don't know these things for a fact).

We each went to a different college. Who would have guessed that? Who would have guessed that James would go to the place with the liberals. Who would have guessed that Bishop would go somewhere far enough way from his parents that he could drink mountain dew every night, but not so far that it would cost a bagillion dollars? Who would have guessed that the non-IB kid would go to a second rate public school, rather than the higher class school like his two best friends.

Who would ever know that the least of the three isn't even considering a transfer. Weird. Does he like mediocrity? It's hard to tell. Maybe it's the hassle of moving again, or the view of something the world doesn't [can't?] see.

I think I know your [our] deepest fears. I think I know your [our] darkest nights.:

I want to be profound. I want to write something beautiful exceptionally sad. Something people will remember. I don’t what it is, or what it means, what people think about it. Just as long as they think about it. Does that sound crazy? Does it sound overrated, insane? I just want someone to think what I said was important.

Wouldn't it be cruel if I was wrong. Wrong about everything, the things I thought, felt. Wrong about what my life meant [doesn't mean]. That's frightening.

One with many dreams has also many un-lived lives. I am facing the burden of the un-lived life. The time when I like what I am doing now, but wish I could do that and that and that. The Jack of many trades, and expert at all.


What a question. Children ask it, and never learn the answer. Why?

Why are we here? Why? Why can't I? Why? Why wont you? Why? Why? Why?

Life's a whore, but she is totally doable. (and so can you)

On a side note, why the fuck haven't you guys come up with some master plan to go camping in the fucking woods or something? Do I have to do all the planning in the fucking relationship? What about my needs? What about what I want?!!?

-Some guy
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Saturday, October 2, 2010

It's short. Promise.

A professor, a midterm, and a ceiling fan walk into a bar.

What's the joke? The professor, of course. He teaches [insert name of discipline you have no respect for here; for instance, anthropology].

I guess I should have made that clear at the beginning of the joke. Hah! That's a pretty big hole. I'll fix it next time. Also, he was carrying the ceiling fan, because he thought he was taking it to an electrician. To be fair, he was, because the electrician operated out of the bar. You might be asking yourself if it's safe for a drunk dude to be operating on electrical equipment. Good question, you!, the midterm is because midterms are coming up slash over, and the professor, being overworked and underpaid, needs to grade it now. This joke isn't really that funny, is it? Read the full article.

Friday, September 24, 2010

College is like college. I make the simile!

-sighs- I suppose change is unavoidable. I mean, if I had that kind of decision-making power, I would suppose change is unavoidable. As it is, I'm just aware that it is so. Wow, what is with that "so" at the end of that sentence there? Good Lord, this isn't an essay.

So what I am doing now? I mean, besides being an absolute retard. It's midnight, past it, actually, and I have to get up early. My supervisor has an exam, and needs me to fill in for him tomorrow morning. I would have said no, as I usually do when people to ask for me to cover their shift, but...supervisor. What am I going to say? "I'm busy tomorrow." He knows I'm not. I didn't lie about my availability like everyone else, unfortunately. Hang on, I have to tie this body paragraph to the thesis. I WORK. Holy crap, is that a surprise. I always talked about getting a job, but I figured that the possibility of doing so was so slim, I'd be able to avoid work. Fate, or, should I say, the desperate people at the local grab and go, had other plans for 12 hours of my life every week.

But it's alright. I mean, my supervisors are pretty cool - the one that works with me making the food is an admitted lush, pothead, and dealer, while his boss is a straight-edge, hardworking guy who's probably in the basement of the commons more than he is in class. And he's also a nice dude, which works. Now, if only we could get someone to come in on Tuesdays to help...

Funny story about that, actually. Girl applied on Friday, got hired Saturday morning, got her schedule - she would have worked Sunday, Tuesday nights (with us), and Friday - and she emailed payroll tbat same Saturday night with her resignation. I guess the responsibility was just too much for her.

Some things never change, though. I guess I have IB to thank for that. I had a test in International Affairs today. Basically, we just looked at narrow topics, or events, or people, and wrote a paragraph about them, explaining both exactly what they were and why they were significant. In other words, a miniature IB history paper. How about that Kargil offensive? Or Sir Syed Ahmed Khan's Aligarh school? Yeah.

And there are enough familiar faces here that I'm never lost. The floor is tight. We all know each other, mostly. Dani's only a floor away. Her roommate is nice, but also totally irresponsible. She turned 21 - she's a non-traditional student - and so she's allowed to have alcohol in the room. And she doesn't care if Dani drinks it. This is a problem, because Dani doesn't care if Dani drinks it either. Anyhow. The communal bathroom isn't as much of a problem as I thought it was going to be. I mean, you wouldn't piss all over your toilet at home, and this is our home now. God, that's weird to say.

Today, I was doing laundry, and all of the dryers were taken, with about 20 minutes to go on all of them. Rather than spend twenty minutes and a dollar to shrink my clothes, I took the whole bag of laundry upstairs and hung it up in my closet to air-dry. I took a whiff, and I thought, mm, detergent and wet clothes.

Smells like home.
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Saturday, September 11, 2010

My yearly post

The post I always post after the first weekend of the month

Generally it's about hunting, and on the side it's about the Scottish festival. This year I didn't go hunting.



I went with Natasha and Robyn and My Aunt and sister...



I had fun.

I didn't spend too much money.

I was proud of myself.

Kind of.

Well, I guess that's it.

Hey James. I make a lot more money than you.

Life, love, the pursuit of accident.

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Friday, September 3, 2010

Nerd Party Discussion

It's been far too long. We've failed to make our wisecracks recently. With college and lovers and Bish's rockband, there's been little time for the joyous accounts of our idiocy at its best... and worse. So I've decided to call out to my fellow crackers and we're going to post the crazy, idiotic, crap we do during this Nerd Party... and then after we've done that we should share the crack ups we do during, between, and/or after classes, in the dorms, at Matt's new pad and the like.

That being said, I've set my mother up for a fun class (she's going to college with me these next 2 semesters.) She gets to enjoy the hell that was my English Composition I class. While it was fun because of the professor, she's still a hard ass. To everyone other than her former students, she's known as Mrs Satan. Personally, I believe her to be my Aunt's good twin. If any of you are taking Comp I... I suggest you suck up, a lot, even if you're an awesome writer. That class is always a huge GPA buster. Social Science courses are all loads of crock but amazingly easy. They're all opinion based. ALL courses are easy if you suck up to the teacher and ask lots of questions like you're clueless but you know what you're talking about and the teacher is an idiot who probably hasn't seen hide nor hare of the white rabbit in many a millennium. Haha, get it, hare? Rabbit? Yeah, I'm awesome.

In conclusion, those living in dorms; don't drop the soap. Matt, don't drop your pants either. Actually, everyone, just leave your clothes on in general.
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Saturday, June 26, 2010

Via request

Tax man, tax man, tax man, hes a tax man.

He'll take your money, then take your food, he'll take your women and he's always rude!

Tax man, tax man, tax man, he's a tax man.

Never says thank you, doesn't say please, give him your money or he'll take out your knees!

Tax man, tax man, tax man, he's a tax man.

A modern day bandit, it isn't quite right, a real evil man who sleeps well at night!

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Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The Curious Case of Benjamin Butthole

Where are we? What the hell is going on?

It''s that time of year again, the time of year that screams anger and frustration. I've got assignments coming out my ears and earwax coming out my ass and there is nothing I can do about it.
We first saw the specimen earlier this week as a bruise on a knee. Now, we can return you to the exciting action and excitement.
Kyle: What is there to do? Only to live, and only to make bacon.
Liz: Alas! The bacon cometh much too quickly for thine tastes.
James: Forsooth, Kyle? Whence cometh this bacon?
Kyle: I care not whence it comes, only where it goes. Into Matthew's mouth.
Matthew: Hark! That be where James' mother went yesteday evening!
Liz: lol
James: Yeah, um, not really.
Sean: What be this asfdsadgrst ghjtr js;trv?
Kyle: Ye'll have to use grammar as your sword, not your enemy!
Sean: Indeed! I see the light from thine mouth!
Liz: That be what she said!
Kyle: What, are we fucking pirates now?
Matthew: No, James' mom isn't here.
Full cast: BOO
James: Forsooth! The bacon hast fill'd a tub of thine best cheeses!
Kyle: Interjection! Mine cheeses... with bacon? This possibly could be the greatest thing EVER!
Matthew: Hooray! Wilst thou lest me sample thine bacon-laced cheeses?
Kyle: That's what she said!
Full cast: BOO
Kyle: What?
James: Look, you gonna share some cheese or not?
Liz: I haven't eaten all day!
Kyle: Your loss, bro. Just take some of the non-cheesed bacon and leave my sight.
Sean: Wurmummle Grrmmmlhrm!
Kyle: I agree! James, get out!
Matthew and James commence "Operation Balloon Satan" which requires them to perform an intricate dance number to distract the others so they can steal the baconned cheeses. They find the cheeses gone when the number finished.
Matthew: What? Whence has thine cheeses gone?
Kyle: I dunno. CHEESE HUNT TIME!
Jack: Oh, I ate it.
Kyle: Where did you come from?
Jack: Oh, you were going to write me into this scene earlier, but you forgot until the middle of the dance number.
Sean: Wurmummle Curmullmlmlmp
Jack: You know, Sean actually can speak in real life.
Kyle: Yeah, but I'm the one who's making him speak nonsense here.
Liz: Hey, let me have some lines! This can't just be about you and Jack getting all cozy like two gays in a pod!
Matthew: James and I want lines too!
Kyle: No. No more lines for James.
James takes this opportunity to shuffle off stage, dejected and silent.
Matthew: You made him cry! Thou art a traitor to thine own brother!
Sean: Mullmlwump!
Liz: Yeah!
Kyle: Yeah!
James, offstage: Yeah!
Matthew: Yeah!
Jack: Arr!
James: Yeah!
Kyle: Sorry, but I'm the one who's calling the shots. And making the bacon.
James: IDEA!
Matthew: Shut up! Nobody loves you, and you're adopted!
Kyle: I like James' idea. Let's all go out and buy more cheeses to quench thine craving for the baconned cheeses, and I shall provide the bacon.
Liz: Yay! I get a speaking-
Kyle: Shut up. Now, who's with me!
Full cast: YEAH!
Sean: Fummlfummp!
End Scene
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Tuesday, February 23, 2010



It's approximately 12:09:37 and I'm tired, I have a headache, and I need to go to bed. Natasha wants me to help her edit her essay.

Fun times. At least I'm alive, I'm breathing, and nobody I know has aids.
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