But not a drop to drink

May 17th, 2005 / #bliss, #girls

As I was walking out of school today, I got to thinking about how much I’ll miss going everyday during the upcoming summer months. It’s not the friends that I get to surround myself with; Lord knows it’s not the overly exigent educational experience that beats the life out of my mind day in and day out; and no, it’s not even the new chocolate milk that they came out with at lunch this year. So, if it’s not any one of these things that keeps me coming back, what could it be?

Dude, do you know how many good looking girls go to school in Palm Harbor? Everywhere you look, there is a fine example of a prime piece of beauty. I think it’s primarily a product of two things: the location of my school and my general teenage hormonal activity. The former means that chicks at my school can afford to pretty themselves up. The latter references my low, low standards – but you already knew that.

Anyhow, thus begins Summer of 2005: months without unlimited eye candy.

The lonesome loser

March 27th, 2005 / #bliss

This is not interesting to anyone but me, but I thought I’d mention it because It feels good to see it in print.

At the beginning of last summer, I weighed about 175 pounds.
At the commencement of school in August, I weighed about 155 pounds.
At the beginning of Lent, I weighed about 149 pounds.
At the present moment, I weigh 143 pounds.

Life is good.

Skunked again

January 4th, 2005 / #bliss, #food

I was quite hungry, indeed. I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night, which consisted of two unaccompanied hot dogs. So, about fifteen minutes ago I decided that I would overcome my laziness and general apathy toward actually making something to eat and make a lousy sandwich out of the (still) leftover Christmas ham.

I headed for the bread box and, upon arrival it seemed that the Gods of good sandwich fortune were smiling down upon me because, much to my surprise, there was bread left over from my long winter break. As luck had it, I took the last two slices and went on my way.

Then, I decided that I needed a condiment of some sort. Rather than go through the trouble of pulling a knife out of the drawer and yanking the mayonnaise from the inside door of the refrigerator, I opted for the item in the fridge that necessitated the least work on my part, the often neglected French’s yellow mustard. As I picked it up, though, I knew it was on its last leg, headed to that picnic basket in the dim yellow condiment sky. Though it took a little elbow grease, I was able to successfully coat both slices of my bread, finishing just as the noble little bottle of tangy goodness kicked the bucket. With my head held high, I continued to make the sandwich with the last remnants of Christmastide cuisine.

Now then, I found a couple slices of cheese – the only item excessively bountiful in the Peterson kitchen – and slapped them onto the sandwich. So far, the art of sandwich making was continuing swimmingly. Or so I thought.

I had not taken into account that Christmas was a full 10 days ago. As such, the Honeybaked Ham which sat in the dark recesses of its chilly refrigerated coffin was in the poorest of shape, and had begun to grow crystals of some sort. I was heartbroken.

Still, though, that was the best Swiss cheese and mustard sandwich I’ve ever eaten.

Time is on my side

December 28th, 2004 / #bliss

For those of you facing the dark recesses of depression during the dreary winter months, chin up. I’ve got some wonderful news.

The recent earthquake in Asia was the most cataclysmic in years, scoring quite favorably on the Richter assessment. Scientists say that the quake was so severe that whole islands were moved 20-30 meters and that the excess energy caused by fault slippage actually caused the earth to wobble on its axis. But that’s not the cool part.

Now, I realize that Sunday’s seismic event was a travesty. I am not attempting to downplay the deaths of the tens of thousands of deceased; I am merely trying to extract some good from what would otherwise be a shame. Those peoples’ deaths just afforded you a little longer to live – or so you would think.

Geologists suggest that the shock of the quake actually interfered with the Earth’s rotation and, thus, caused the day to be 3 microseconds shorter.

Big deal, right? Well, actually, yes.

If you were to take the average American lifespan of 77.2 years, and break it down into days, you would find that the average U.S. inhabitant lives 28178 days, not counting leap years. If you were to multiply this number by the number of seconds (3 x 10^-6) missed each day, you get approximately .084534 seconds.

This fraction of a second, even though it is in no way technically added to the average American lifespan, appears as a faux addendum. That is, after you serve your 77.2 years, you could view it as a gift from some higher power – like Father Time, or God, or the Ghost of Richard Nixon.

Without purpose or direction

November 18th, 2004 / #bliss, #highschool, #ib

Not having work to do thoroughly baffles me. Every day, I’m assaulted with endless harassment from six teachers, not including the quazi-professing entity in Dr. Yarborough, Theory of Knowledge “teacher” extraordinaire.

So tonight, with no homework to do for the day following, I was lost; never before on a week night of this school year had I been blessed with this glorious confusion. What was I supposed to do with my time? I am a creature of habit that demands a mandate for any action taken.

So, I took advantage of my incurable boredom by wandering aimlessly around this twelve-by-twelve room in hopes of finding something worthwhile. And that’s what I surmise I’ll be doing for the next week.

What a beautiful, beautiful, set of circumstances.

Merry Giftmas

April 27th, 2004 / #bliss

It’s the greatest feeling you’ll ever have.

Am I talking about true love? No. Am I talking about that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you see one of those “Puppies of the Year” calendars for Christmas? No.

You wake up in your bed and, knowing that your day is about to begin, you groan in disgust. Then, you look over at the clock. And what’s this?

It’s only 2:30, you have another 3 hours to sleep. Mother Nature’s gift to you.

  • Who I Am

    I'm a nobody from Florida with things to say (sometimes).

  • What This Is

    This is a not-so-detailed account of my adolescence over the course of almost a decade. Here, I shared my thoughts about things of no real consequence while at the same time being reckless with semicolons and flowery language.

    I used this website to connect with folks before Facebook. Today, I sometimes chronicle interesting thoughts and observations I have. I don't update as much as I should.

  • Colophon

    This soapbox is powered by WordPress 3.0.5. The theme is inspired by Randa Clay's Bluebird.