A Super Joke

I guess I forgot to mention it before, but this photo Ian sent me pretty much sums up my feelings against the Patriots:

Now will the girls flock to me?

I took me about 50 times longer to make this recreation than it did to make the real thing

I got bored:

Digg this!

I’m never one for boasting or bragging, but I would like to thank the Academy for my being published as a national article on the front page of College Humor.

News to no one

This just in: fried turkey is God’s gift to man.

Coming up after the break, we’ll tell you about the wonders of homemade fudge.

And now this…

Maybe it's just because we can relate

Hey, everyone over at Rotten Tomatoes. Yeah, you. And heck, everyone else on the Internet that seems to hate The Brothers Solomon: Screw you guys, it was a funny film.

Granted, not as genius as Superbad, but I doubt we will see many movies that compare in our lifetimes.

It’s a funny movie with a funny plot and, yes, good acting. In fact, I would say that the acting trumps all other aspects in this film in the humor category. It’s a far-fetched, fun movie. Will Arnett and Will forte paint a beautifully absurd picture of life as the Brothers Solomon, and if people are too stupid to see that, it’s their loss.

Funny enough though: when Ian and I saw the movie at 9:55 last night, we were the only ones in the theater. I would rather have it that way than to have the house packed with people who don’t appreciate the genius that we were able to see last night.

This is how lazy I am during the Summer

Dad: So, what did you do today?
Casey: I made Tang.
Dad: What’re you gonna do now?
Casey: I’m waiting for it to cool down.

I'll be glad to tender my services when we make the playoffs, too

Well, after 10 years of Devil Rays fandom, my allegiance was rewarded the other night, as I ventured out to the Trop with James, Angus, and Mikey to watch my beloved team fall to the Mariners of Seattle by four runs. The game itself was no picnic, though. The St. Petersburg Nine (as my least favorite post game announcer Rich Herrera so affectionately calls them) were able to squeak by with a B.J. Upton leadoff homer and eight subsequent innings of baseball rape. However, I’ve come to expect this from my team. At this point, going to the game is more for the experience. After all, where else can you go and enjoy a professional sporting event so cheap and close to home?

Anyhow, thank you kindly to the Rays employee who approached James on the main concourse prior to game time and offered to upgrade our seats in row X of section 133 (mediocre outfield seats at best) to suite 23 in exchange for our services as professional survey filler-outers. While the game was not great, sitting in cushioned seats in the front row of our well-stocked suite was most excellent.

I’m just throwing this out there: I am officially offering my services for every game for the remainder of the season. Except now I demand seats in the Kanes Club for my most comprehensive questionnaire-taking skills.

I Love Lamp

There is a lava lamp in my room. I’ve had it for years, but I’ve only turned plugged it in on occasion, and even then it was so that my friends or people who come into my room think I’m cooler than I actually am. To me, a lava lamp signifies that you are a rebel of sorts: one who sees no need for conventional lighting in spite of the fact that lava lamps are really, really bad at shedding enough light on any given situation. If I were to use my lava lamp as my only source of illumination, I doubt I could get my pants on in a pitch black room. But I digress.

Yesterday, I had to unplug my lava lamp to make way for a real lamp. A guy’s gotta study for exams, after all, and a dim red cylinder with bubbles of effluvious goo just isn’t going to cut it.

That said, though, I really, really miss the lamp. It sits on my desk as I type, a skeleton of its former self. While a lava lamp isn’t by any means a beacon of luminosity, it says something about the person who owns it. I don’t know, maybe I’m just insecure.

That said, goodbye, traditional lamp. I’m plugging in my lava lamp again.

Maybe…

Every morning, I wake up and consider the possibilities that await me.

“Maybe today is the day the Devil Rays spend some money on a good closer.”
“Maybe today is the day I have sexual intercourse with a woman.”
“Maybe today I won’t have to park on the other side of the world when I go to school.”

Well, my friends, it’s happened. No, not the first two. We know that these things may not ever happen. However, yesterday as I drove onto campus, I found a wonderful parking space on the north side of the Hume Parking Garage.

So to savor the moment, I backed in, put up my illegitimately-obtained Red 3 parking pass, and went on my way.

I think yesterday was the greatest day I’ve had in Gainesville yet, all because of the wonderful person who thought it necessary to leave the best parking space on campus open for me.