This time around, he totally doesn't like Jack's lifestyle

Watching the CNN/YouTube Republican debate last night, only one issue was on my mind.

Tom Tancredo: Mr. Roper reincarnate?

Hollywood, here I come!

Here’s an observation for you: I cannot believe people find Vince Vaughn attractive or humorous.

Heck, I can act badly in films and look like an overweight goon for way less money than the studios are paying him.

I have no idea what I am going to do with my life.

As if it hasn’t been apparent for some time now to those that know me well, I have decided recently that my life lacks any direction. This became clear to me when I watched John Candy in Uncle Buck yesterday afternoon and realized that it is quite possible that I would end up like his character – irresponsible, poor, and reckless.

So, what do I do now? Part of me says that I should ignore this inevitability, embracing it as a beautiful alternative way of life. But then, the other 99 percent of me says that I need to buckle down and decide what I want to do with my life. Sure, it’s quite normal for people my age to not know what they are going to do for the rest of their lives, but it has become increasingly apparent to me that a lot of my friends at least know what they want to do with their lives.

All right, that has been established. I should decide what I like to do and build my career around that. Hm, are there any high-paying professions that involve sleeping until 11, sitting around my house watching television, and eating meals high in fat and calories?

Uh oh, I don’t think my political science major will be useful after all.

Seat Belts

I don’t get it. I see all these commercials on late night ESPN about cops cracking down on folks who don’t buckle up when they drive. I say this, perhaps as a recent victim of the fuzz on the prowl, but it really baffles me that people don’t put on their seatbelts.

I’m not writing this as a sermon in vehicular safety; I think that wearing a seat belt is a choice and that people should be able to logically decide what’s best for them, but why not put on a seat belt? Whenever I drive, I make sure everyone in my car is buckled up. This isn’t because of my fear of getting tickets or being fined, but rather because I legitimately care about the safety of my friends.

Anyhow, they treat this like an epidemic. It’s as if the police and media think that people don’t put on their seat belts habitually, but I can’t recall a single person I know who never wears a seat belt. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I only associate with quasi smart and responsible people.

I guess my point here is that if you don’t wear a seat belt when you ride or dive a car, you are a fool. Thus ends my profound (yet obvious) observation of the evening.

Nightmares

I was having a conversation with James the other day about bad dreams. My Dad called today and said he had a nightmare that I had a party at the house and someone pooped in the bathtub.

My question is, why waste time on nightmares? I mean, you get a few hours every day to escape the dull, monotonous life that has been given to you, and you choose to have a nightmare? In dreams, anything can happen. I just don’t see why you would do that to yourself.

Are we that screwed up that our inner psyche allows us to waste some of the best downtime on introducing worries and anxiety? If so, that sucks.

I guess I’ve held this sentiment for a while. I haven’t had a nightmare that I’ve been able to remember in years. I’m one of the lucky ones.

As if I'm not creepy enough

As we speak, it appears that Ive got some new neighbors moving into the two story house across the street on the corner. It’s a really nice house; I’ve always wanted more than one story in my abode, but thus far, no luck.

From what I saw yesterday, the current residents had a few big, burly black men taking all of their stuff and putting it in some big trucks. Then drove up a woman of about 55 and what I can only assume is her daughter, who looks to be in her early to mid 20s. I could be wrong about these ages, though, as I spent the majority of the day like the neighbor who lived across the street from Sam and Darren in Bewitched – peeking out of my blinds to try to put together some idea of who these people are.

Anyhow, they’re moving in now and some bald young fellow just pulled up in a light blue old-person-sedan-type car. If he is my competition for the love of this fair maiden, I’ve totally got him beat. A Ford Focus could outsex a Mercury Grand Marquis any day.

Sway with the breeze

I never noticed before, but from my windows in the distance you can see two very tall, very skinny pine trees. They have no needles until you get about 150 feet in the air. They’re swaying kind of violently now. My across the street neighbors are pretty lucky that we don’t get hurricanes very often here in Gainesville, because I could literally knock down those trees with an oscillating table fan. I would just need a pretty long extension cord.

Merry Christmas 2006

So, I was in line to purchase a Honeybaked Ham with my mother for our festival of Yuletide joy, and as we checked out, the girl said, “Merry Christmas!”

I got to thinking. I guess they don’t have to worry about any of that “Happy Holidays” hogwash. I mean, they serve ham, after all.

Creep Out!

During my long and wholly unnecessary absence from the wonderful world of the Internet, I have been acclimating myself to the strange and new world we call college: new people, new experiences, and best of all, a football team upon which I can fall back now that my beloved Buccaneers are officially worse at football than my dead grandmother.

But I digress.

There is a certain order in which people enter into one of my lectures every day. Now, this is a lecture of over 300 students, so you can probably consider it creepy that I single out these three girls. And so be it; if you don’t know by now that I am a creepy individual, there’s something wrong with you.

First, there’s Blonde Girl Who Waddles. She gives me Paris Hilton vibes. She comes in the door closest to me and literally waddles down the aisle like a penguin. She sits in about the third row. I only mention her first because she came in first last class. When she comes in, I’ve noticed, is largely a product of how much she cared to use makeup before class. If she comes in early, she is weathered, sleepy, and grumpy. If she decides to use makeup, she comes in about 10 minutes after class has started, much to the chagrin of the professor. Either way, I’ll still always love BGWW.

Next comes Girl Who Enunciates. She sits one row ahead of me and to my left. I have never actually heard her speak, but the way she trims her eyebrows and what I gather from lip reading tells me that she needn’t ever repeat herself because she takes special care to pronounce each syllable with as much accuracy and definition as possible. I respect her for this.

And last but certainly not least is Sport. I call her Sport because she has lips that resemble Gregory Smith’s in his role as Sport in Harriet the Spy. I’m not saying that she looks like a boy or anything – in fact, she is a good looking girl. Her lips just stick out like that. She computes on her iBook every day in class, mostly using Facebook. She recently changed her desktop wallpaper, which is a good thing because I’ve been of the opinion for about two months prior that she should change it.

Anyhow, now that I’ve completely mortified any girls with whom I might ever come into contact for fear of such opinions, I will leave the final judgment of my creepiness to you, the benevolent public.

Dear Dave Thomas…

So, in my great many experiences eating hamburgers, I have not allowed for much tomfoolery in their preparation. Plain. Cheese, bread, and meat. Maybe ketchup, mustard, or mayonnaise will make a guest appearance. But other than that, I generally don’t do veggies.

But every now and then, I will see a burger all dolled up for its eventual demise in gastrointestinal juices and enzymes and I wonder: what’s with those raw onions?

The nature of a raw onion is to exist in a ring shape. Hence, we have such fried wonders as onion rings. But wouldn’t it make more sense to, you know, chop up the raw onion prior to its placement on my delicious slab of ground chuck? That way, it doesn’t just garnish the perimeter of my dinner.

Just a thought.