trip the light fantastic

I Can't Dance

[19:48] god dammit, my penis is jammed in the vcr again
[19:54] holy shit, you brought a vcr to college?

This might be a problem (not the above conversation I overheard on DC++ here at my school, that has absolutely nothing to do with anything I just thought it was amusing).

-- as an aside I'd like to say that I've found kids these days really can't be taken aback by much of anything (and I'm going to completely ignore that the first fella's handle is 'Vaginal-Discharge'), I mean, this guy says he jammed his penis in his VCR again and his friend is not amazed at what he was doing with his penis, or why he would be doing such an odd thing to begin with, or even how this has managed to happen to him more than once, but by the fact that he brought such an outdated piece of technology with him to school... also as an aside, my girlfriend actually would bring a VCR with her to college because she's just like that, though I'd hope she wouldn't be jamming anything of anybodies into it... especially a penis... especially my penis... anyhow --

No, my real problem is plainly stated at the top of this post, which originally was so eloquently stated by the band Genesis back in the day, except unlike Mr. Collins, I don't walk all that great either... well, I guess I walk okay, it's just not amazing or anything. I'm not John Trovolta strutting my shit in Saturday Night Fever good (or was that Staying Alive). Not by any means. Hell, I'm not even in the John Wayne cool but kinda gay category. Now that I think about it, I'm like Quasimodo meets one of the Munchkins from the Wizard of Oz. Fuck.

Right, I almost forgot; there's a reason why I'm caring about this. I will be attending a dance this weekend with a very charming and adorable lady who for the past three months has conceded to being my girlfriend. That may change after she sees how bad I cut the rug. Usually I don't care about how much of an ass I make myself out to be but since I'm going with someone I care about (and this is her morp, not mine of course) I feel much more self conscious than usual. I don't want to be a bad date either.

So, I've decided to do the following two things:
1. I'm going to wear suspenders.
2. I'm going to smoke a lot of weed before hand.

Justification for the two things:
1. If I'm going to look like a jackass I'm going to at least look like a classy jackass.
2. Why not. It might help.

I'm not sure about the second one yet. The last time I attempted such a thing my asthma almost killed me. And, I don't know if it would make it much more bearable anyway. Definitely going to wear suspenders though.

Also, according to the sources I've talked to, children nowadays are engaging in this so called "dirty dancing." I really don't think that's going to be my thing but hopefully I'll manage. I'm so lame. I guess it's better than if I didn't go; I'd just be sitting at home thinking about my girlfriend's ass rubbing up against a bunch of other guys' crotches.


--Note--
Sometimes I think that nobody really wants to go to these dances they just pretend they do because they think everyone else wants to. It's sort of a hassle actually. But then I think I think too much (sort of a paradox now that I think about it... damn it) and I should just shut up and try to enjoy myself. As long as my girlfriend has a good time I'll be happy. I'll try not to be too awkward.


"Billy Jean's sitting on the beach,
her dog's talking to me, but she's out of reach.

She's got a body under that shirt,
but all she wants to do is rub my face in the dirt.

Cos, I can't dance, I can't talk.
Only thing about me is the way I walk.
I can't dance, I can't sing
I'm just standing here selling."

face full of black soot

I'm thinking I might pick up one of these babies for home defense -

USMC's New M-32s: Hitting the Field

It's a grenade launcher. I like this one because it can hold six 40mm grenades instead of just the one. In my mind, that was the true downfall with the M203 single shot grenade launcher. Sure I could have mounted it under my M4 or M16 assault rifle but I wouldn't have felt comfortable with only the one shot; I could miss. But with this new M-32 I'll be sure to get any bad guy that breaks into my house. I also really like the fact that I can fire all six rounds in under three seconds. That's definitely necessary and will prove useful the next time I go gopher hunting. The only problem is I think I might need some sort of license for this thing. Pretty lame if you ask me.


I'm also glad we finally got one of these -

MIT light detector may speed up interplanetary communications

This is really going to come in handy when I call my pal Zorflax over in the Andromeda Galaxy. It is easily the first unequivocally useful invention to come out of MIT. Finally those guys have come up with something practical that will help out Average Joe Consumer.


On a personal note, due to circumstances that are completely out of my control, it looks as if I will be forced to move from my home of nineteen years to reside in an apartment somewhere in Amsterdam of all places. To quote the philosopher Carlin, "I need this like I need an infected scrotum."

It seems my families ever ensuing financial woes have finally caught up with us and my mother simply can't afford to keep the house and pay the bills. I'm trying to think how I can make this funny but it's pretty fucking sad. You see now why I want to buy the grenade launcher though, right? Amsterdam = Crime = Breaking Into Matt's Apartment = Trying To Steal Matt's Computer = Some Poor Minority Fella Getting A Grenade Or Six To The Face.


To fill this post even more good news, I just found out I owe my school $350 which I don't have. They were kind enough not to not tell me about it and simply put a hold on my ID so I can't register for my classes next semester, which I need to do really soon, and I can't fill out my housing application, which is also due really soon. So thank you U-Albany, thank you for not even bothering to send my a fucking email letting me know what was going on with my financial aid.

Apparently what happened was I charged my books to my podium card, exactly like I did last semester, except this time it was after I had gotten my refund and tuition bill so I didn't even realize they were just going to bill me for all my books instead of taking it out of my financial aid. Also, for some reason which doesn't make any sense, I'm getting less aid this semester than I did last semester; it's all used up now so this $350 has to be payed out of pocket. Unfortunately I'm about $250 short. See, if I had known that I wasn't going to get any financial aid for my books like I did before, I would have used the money I was refunded at the beginning of the semester to buy them (which would have been all of it). They never really explain to you how all this financial aid shit works. I know I'm taking out a bunch of money in loans (all the money I was offered in fact), getting a boatload of dough from TAP and PAL, and have two decent scholarships that pay each semester, but I guess that's not enough.

Also, the financial aid lady I talked to was a bitch. Though I admit she probably wasn't the person to criticize for the bureaucracy of the financial aid office nor was she the one to point out to the hypocrisy behind my so called refund since it's by no means a refund if I have to just save it to pay for shit later that should have already been covered. Still, I was polite to her while she was simply rude. I asked her to make sure all my money had come through (last semester, instead of releasing my money, the bank decided not to release it - why, nobody knows) and that the math added up. She looked at me like I had just asked her to strip and give me oral pleasure, which I wouldn't have accepted just so you know on account of her looking like the Crypt Keeper.

Enough for now, just thinking about this is giving me a migraine. I guess later tonight I get to call and beg my dad for money. The guy has tons of it (lawyer) but he's always made it apparent that he'd rather spend it on vacations with his new family than help me out with my higher education.


--Note--
Alright, I'm obviously joking about the grenade launcher. That wouldn't be practical at all. Besides, everyone knows that you use a flamethrower for home defense which I'm pretty sure I can make myself. I saw a guy do it in a movie once. All I need is some tubing, a propane tank, and a lighter. And maybe a witty one liner like, "I hope you brought your wallet punk because the rent in hell is payed in advance." Actually, I really can't see myself saying that at all. Which sucks because I don't think flamethrowers even work unless you say a zippy one liner before hand. I don't know. Maybe I watch too many movies.


"Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles"

my long dark tea time

-- I have approved this post for a general audience --

Reports have come in that last Saturday night, in a state of utter inebriation, I toasted to the life and times of Slobodan Milosevic. I can't exactly recall doing this, and I was initially appalled at such an accusation, but thinking about it now, that's definitely something I would do. I'm a pretty shotty fellow sometimes. We toasted to a lot of things that night and each consecutive one gets hazier and hazier when I try to remember it, though apparently this one was earlier in the night's drinking escapade. I do remember toasting to Jessica Alba's good looks (probably used something less polite than 'good looks' when it happened) and if I remember correctly, we payed tribute to the prospect of my friend possibly getting laid at some point in his life. It was a decent night and ended with me being far less coherent than is really necessary.

--most people won't care about what follows--
The night didn't start particularly well though. I had a bit of a tiff with that gorgeous hypothetically existent loved one of mine. She works so much now that I hardly get to see her on the weekends (and of course I can't see her during the week because I reside in Hades and she's home). The whole situation makes for a bit of a strained relationship and she didn't take to the idea of me going off and getting ridiculously sloshed with my friends while I could have been sleeping beside her in a sleeping bag on the floor at her house. As I sit here now writing this, I can't help but think how lovelier a night that would have been (I would have undoubtedly felt a lot less like I had been beaten with a sack of puppies the next morning too) and if I hadn't committed to my friends like I did, I would have stayed with her as long as I could. So, I'm sorry my theoretical girl.


Due mainly to the fact that I wanted to write a post without any obscenities in it, I don't really have much else to say. I wanted to talk about something else but I would have undoubtedly cursed so I'm holding back till next time. I would like to mention that I had an absolutely atrocious cup of coffee today though. The stuff must have been sitting there for a week. Either that or they got the entire basketball team to wash their crotches in it. Don't get me wrong, I finished the bloody thing. It wasn't fun but I drank it. I can't say I didn't have regrets on the matter.

get, come, and join together

A while ago my girlfriend mentioned to me something her teacher told her class. This teacher, in her infinite wisdom, said "Kids these days see the forest but not the trees." She then went on to say something about technology and how we're growing up in a world that's becoming increasingly shrouded by it. I think I know what she's saying.

Basically, this is one of those stupid things older adults say about youth when they can't figure out how to operate the remote to their television or get their computer to do what they want. It goes something like this:

"God damn piece of rubbish computer. Press any key? Where's the any key? I don't have an any key. Fine. You know what? I might be so inept I can't figure out what to do here but kids these days don't see the trees. Yeah. Fuck em. They see the forest. That's it. I've still got em beat. I see everything. Fucking kids. What do they know? Nothing. That's what. Son, come here and fix this thing; I'm retarded."

Here's what I say: "Adults these days, especially white middle class Christian ones, stand in dark rooms, eyes closed, and pretend to know what's written on the wall in order to pass unfounded judgments on those who will one day be paying their social security. They have about as much insight regarding the forest as Helen Keller had regarding art. I have more faith in lobsters than I do in today's vast majority of so called rational grown ups."

Just because I can (and just because I happen to be listening to it), this is what The Beatles had to say, "Step right this way, roll up for the magical mystery tour." Maybe today's youth is the magical mystery tour. "They're coming to take you away. They're dying to take you away. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED." You can't stop the magical mystery tour. Soon those tree ignorant kids will be running this existence. Maybe then retirees will have something slightly more productive to say than obtuse sylvan analogies.

But, seriously, back to the lobster comment.

'Giant' Lobster Lives Up To Name

This man's twenty year quest to find a big fucking lobster has finally been reached. Almost a meter in length. Oh boy. How did this not make the news this morning?

"Thirty five year old virgin solidifies his future of never getting laid by admitting that he spent over half his life looking for big lobsters."

So this guy, Mr. I Have Sex With Lobsters, being thirty five must clearly see the trees then, right? His insight has served him well. He's got himself one hell of a crustacean.

Wait, oh my, I just reread the article. The lobster is thirty five years old, not Mr. Walsh. That's just crazy. What the fuck has that thing been doing for thirty five years. It's a lobster. What does he do all day, swim around and eat... whatever the fuck lobsters eat. Honestly, if I was a giant freshwater lobster, I'd just kill myself. That can't be a particularly fun or rewarding life.


"Seasons change with the scenery;
Weaving time in a tapestry.
Won't you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips
Looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme.

Drinking my vodka and lime,
I look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter."


--Note--
I'm not really so hypercritical of our middle aged, middle class taxpayers nor am I truly serious about any sweeping generalizations I just made; I just hate it when they, especially when they're teachers, say truly stupid things about my generation. I thought I should at least return the favor. Also, I think I might know the teacher who said that and I've got nothing against that person. That person is actually very nice. I seriously doubt he/she reads my blog though so I don't know why the bloody hell I'm apologizing. I guess I just like giving off the impression that I'm a nice guy. Though, seriously, I am a nice guy. You hear that ladies? Super nice. I like ponies and talking about my feelings. Wait, what am I doing? I have a girlfriend. Son of a bitch. I love you. This note is too long. Bye.

the wheel's still in spin

My name went to the Asteroid Belt today. What did you do? Yeah, that's what I thought.That didn't have anything to do with anything I just thought I'd mention it.

What I'd like to do is say something about today's society. I have a problem, a qualm if you will, regarding it. Let's suppose a few things first. Now, hypothetically speaking, there might be this gorgeous, passionate woman with curly brown hair, green eyes, and a wonderfully proportioned figure that I like.... who also might have a fondness for art and fashion; I'm just throwing that out there since this is TOTALLY hypothetical. Anyway, this theoretically existent girl would probably turn out to be my favorite person to spend my time with and more than likely would make me happier than anyone else in this world.

But, lets suppose here that she wasn't allowed to be with me during certain designated hours during the day. For example, she might have a doctors appointment, or a family event, or she could work at a fast food place on the weekends when I come home to visit her which would limit me to seeing her only at night. That could easily happen. So, if that were the case, I could only see this lady, my favorite lady to see, for a few hours each night, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Wouldn't that make someone sad?

To continue, now lets suppose that this imaginary woman was also governed by the laws of a higher power that could arbitrarily set rules down for her to follow. One of these stipulations might be that she wasn't allowed to spend the night with me at my house. The deity's reasoning behind this is that they wouldn't want their beautiful little creation to engage in any sort of perverted activity with anyone.

Alright. So those are the made up circumstances and stereotypes that I'd have to put up with if all this were true. Why can't these higher powers in today's society grasp the concept that two people can sleep together platonically? Also, why would they think that the only time two people would want to have sex would be at night? Usually, that time is reserved for sleeping. Hell, maybe I like to do all my fucking at midday. Seems like a fine time to screw to me.

I think today's society is suffering from a complete breakdown in the ability to make logical sense. Whether a girl spends the night at my house has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I'm going to have sex with her. They aren't related at all. Not in the least. No connection between the two whatsoever. Unless I fuck things in my sleep (that would actually explain what happened to my stuffed bunny Edmund now that I think about it) it really shouldn't be a concern of anybody. When I get into my bed at night I try to fall asleep. That's what that time is for.

If any of these higher powers wanted to prevent their creations from having sex with their respected girlfriend or boyfriend, they'd have to prevent them from seeing them altogether. It just doesn't make sense. It's some silly ideological thing. Being next to someone else in bed, they automatically start thinking deviant things. Why? There's no reason to. Sleeping with someone is completely benign. For that matter, having sex with someone is too. But I won't even get into that now. I'll go ahead and say that me having sex with this theoretical girl is a bad thing just for the sake of argument. Just to please the gods I'll accept that. But having a girl spend the night with you isn't related to that at all. You could have sex with your partner at night, sure, but you could any other time too and preventing someone from sleeping beside another person isn't going to prevent any intercourse from happening.

What is wrong with our society. I thought some sort of sexual revolution occurred. I don't think we covered that in my AP American History course but I'm pretty sure I read in Playboy once something about the seventies and that happening.

America is still uptight about sex. Christian conservatives will say otherwise but it's completely false. They'll mention the billboards and the TV shows that all display promiscuous acts but those don't mean a thing. That's advertisement. And the reason it's advertised like that is because people like sex. They love it in fact. They love it but they won't talk about it. It's still some secret thing. Why? There's nothing shameful or bad about it. It can actually be quite fun; undoubtedly something these people have forgotten.

Uptight middle aged adults need to wake up. Wake up and fuck a turkey or something. I think Bob Dylan said that. Well, not exactly like that. I think it was worded slightly different but that was the general idea. I'll leave you with his words.

"Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'."


--Note--
A friend of mine asked me a question the other day. It was: "can the meaning of someone's life change after they die?" I can't answer the question because I think it's way too ambiguous and vague. What the hell is "the meaning of someone's life"? I'd like to hear what others think though. About the sex thing too. Please post something.

--Note II--
I just heard a guy in my common room yell "Yeah, whose got the nastiness, yeah, John's got the nastiness." What the hell is wrong with us? I'd understand if he was drunk or something but he's not.

tickled pink and flying high on a cloud of unimaginable joy

Apparently my recent attempt at telling a merry story wasn't in hindsight particularly jocular and just came off as flippant. I guess I didn't deliver then so I'm sure as hell going to now. Alright? You wanted happy and I'm going to give you all out happy. You got that? Here's jolly you ungrateful simpletons.


The other day while I was drawing sparkles in one of my notebooks with my favorite glitter pen and reflecting on how delightfully sun-drenched the day had been, I saw a rainbow and my eyes started to twinkle. I thought of ponies and added one into my picturesque scene. It was so tasty and winsome. But I thought my pony might get lonely so I had added puppies with big pink ribbons around their necks to keep him company. Ponies love puppies. Kitties too I imagined so I threw a few of those fabulously fluffy little creatures in also. I was so amazingly happy. Life was bubbly. I began to think about how great everything was. And just when I thought my overwhelming ecstasy from simply breathing and living couldn't get any better, elves busted in singing the Care Bears theme song and chocolate began falling from the sky. Magic was in the air. As if a Disney wonderland had been created around me, all the animals came out of their quaint woodland dwellings to dance and sing with us. God showed up and cured world hunger, ended sadness, and invited all the sea nymphs out to play. The sky was bright and ice cream flowed from the trees. The flies and spiders were getting along together; my world was sublime. Then, strangely enough, in a grand finale of pleasure, a leprechaun popped out of my ass. Fellatio ensued.


Okay, so I made some of that up - I have no idea if there's actually a Care Bears theme song. That, and everybody knows I don't own a glitter pen. I want one though. A green one would be nice. Yes, a sparkly green glitter pen so I can write "I love Jesus" on my forehead.

I'll say this only once, If you want light hearted, read a fucking comic strip.

the cheery, smiling, gleeful, blithe me

My friend asked, nay, insisted, nay, in fact demanded, I post something more light hearted. Possibly something that left you with a warm and/or fuzzy feeling on the inside. There's only so much depression one can take apparently (or to put it another way, there's only so much of me one can take). So, happy once again, let me see what I can do.

Side note: My friend didn't actually demand anything, he merely suggested I try and be more jovial, I just really wanted to use the word nay so I made stuff up.

I electrocuted a Chinese kid the other day (I think this is light hearted in the "it happened to someone else so I don't really care" type of way). I got the poor schmuck to hold both ends of the power supply in lab. Oh, you silly, silly Chinese bastard. Why are you so easy to mock? Actually, I'm lucky he didn't karate chop me or backspin kick me. My kung fu skills are a little rusty so I don't know if I could have taken him or not. Nevertheless, I'm going to see if I can get him to touch a charged capacitor to his tongue next week. If he goes all crazy Chinese martial arts guy on me, my only hope will be that the electricity knocks off his chi so he's a bit less powerful. It's either that or I can bring my nunchucks with me. I think I can take him if I remember my nunchucks.

Another note of the side variety: I don't want to demean my ridiculously slanted eyed friend - I shouldn't keep stereotyping him and referring to him as the Chinese kid. He's got a name. It's Wang or Kim or some shit like that. I can't really remember. Anyway, he's a really great guy and fun to talk to when you can actually tell what the bloody hell he's saying.

In other news, I think my new diet of eating only black and white foods is starting to catch up with me. Two days now and all I've had is a box of Oreos and burnt toast with frosting on it. I'd eat something else but I honestly can't think of anything that's just black and white. I admit it's not a very good diet. I think I might have to go off it.

Now onto a completely new topic; I'm beginning to develop an irrational fear of things whose names can be formed from the letters of my middle name - ham, hats, mats, moats, math, ohms and.... shit, I don't know, moths. Mainly math though. It sucks. All those numbers. It simply gets needlessly complicated. I took a test in linear algebra the other day and practically had a heart attack (this was actually before I had developed my irrational fear of things that could be formed from the letters in my middle name, I almost had a heart attack from waking up five minutes before the test, slipping in my bathroom and almost dying, running through the freezing cold, and getting to class right before the professor locks you out to only then finally realize that I'm not as good looking as some other people in my class). The forth problem on the test made absolutely no sense to me so I started thinking about my middle name and how I could form quite a few words with its letters. I wasted just about all my time thinking about this and in the end had to turn the thing in leaving that problem completely blank. How does this have anything to do with the letters of my middle name and my irrational fear you ask? Well, fuck me swinging, I have no idea.

I have at this point decided that this last paragraph is going absolutely nowhere and am simply going to stop writing in a hope to save what little is left of my sanity. I think I'll put the remainder in a jar labeled "perishable." Boogly snorkel fork!


--Note--
I tried to find happy lyrics for the end of this thing. It was sort of hard to with all the sad bastard music I have in my collection. This was the best I could do. I guess I'll dedicate it to my girlfriend since I know she thinks it's one of the dumbest, silliest songs ever written. I think it's classy.


Yummy, yummy, yummy,
I got love in my tummy
and as silly as it may seem.
The loving that you're giving
is what keeps me living
and your love is like
peaches and cream.
Kind-a like sugar,
kind-a like spices,
kind-a like, like what you do.
Kind-a sounds funny,
but love, honey,
and honey, I love you.