I need some mental floss
[ 2 Comments ] Posted on 05.31.04 in complaints, music
It’s super annoying when you get songs stuck in your head. It could happen because of any influence; I find it to occur when I hear a song right before I go to sleep or as I get off of the bus going to school. And all day (or until another nestles itself within the friendly confines of your memory), you’re whistling and singing that bloody song over and over again. Even when you have to be quiet, respectful, or the like – there you are, gently humming it until someone hits you on the back of your head. It is as if your head is a broken jukebox hit too hard by the Fonz that unceasingly permeates that one song.
It wouldn’t be so bad if you knew the song, either. But you just have a general idea of the chorus and a vague recollection of the tune. So you hum the tune and think the lyrics until you get to the point of the song that you don’t know; then you start again, as if you were given the holy power to alter, nay, completely slaughter the song in question. This process goes on for hours, in some cases days, until one of two things happens: you die, or another stupid song stages a coup and throws the currently domineering ditty from power within the realm of your consciousness.
And so I leave you now, wishing to purge Kansas’ Carry On My Wayward Son from my mind.
I suck.
[ 2 Comments ] Posted on 05.30.04 in random
Taryn yelled at me the other day and said I was neglecting those of you with no lives, so after a week, here’s the token entry.
Actually, I haven’t been slaying you with my unceasing wit because I’m a very busy man. I started driving school on Tuesday. I get up early in the morning so I can go stand outside (not in a car, the school can only afford nine) for 4 hours until 12. Having so much time to converse with the good folks there, I have come to many conclusions:
If I were a circus animal, I would want to be a tiger.
If I could kill someone with any garden tool, it would be a rake. Not those hard, pitchfork types, but the kind made of flimsy aluminum as to perpetuate the dying process.
Cones are retarded.
Wow, that’s not many conclusions at all. I’m really, really not in the mood to write. I think I’m gonna go now. Sorry to disappoint.
Life is just a beach so far out of reach
[ 7 Comments ] Posted on 05.22.04 in complaints, friends, funny stories
Last night I went to Egle’s party at the Den. Nice place (especially because we had the Hockey game on). I gave her a nice present wrapped in pretty rose wrapping paper with a potato and twenty bucks inside. Also included was this note:
All my life, I’ve envied girls who go to birthday parties and get their friends intricate, complicated, and personal gifts that just suit their style. I’ve always been the typical guy, throwing 20 bucks at the birthday girl and eating cake. But not this year. This year, I made it a point to try to get a gift for you; something thoughtful that you would really enjoy. In efforts of giving you the perfect present, I asked myself, “What do I know about Egle?” It was then that I realized I don’t know all that much about you, except that you’re Lithuanian. I had a great idea: I’d give you the country’s main agricultural product as sort of a memento, a reminder of the great motherland. So, after a quick trip to Google, I found that the main agricultural export of Lithuania is grain. After searching high and low, near and far, I couldn’t find any to give to you. Apparently they don’t sell raw wheat here in the U.S., one of the largest wheat economies of the known world. I did the next best thing and included the second most populous agricultural export of Lithuania, the potato. But then I realized and said to myself, “Self, you’re giving the girl a potato.” So here’s 20 bucks.
Today I took advantage of the environment I take for granted and, like a real Floridian, I went to the beach. This experience has only reaffirmed my opinion that the beach is an inefficient, silly place to go.
First, you have to wait in gobs of traffic, which wasn’t so bad today, because we took a detour down Drew Street, behind Coachman Park and bypassed downtown traffic. After averting the roundabout, we traveled up to North Beach and set up camp.
Now, think about this logically with me.
Every year, millions of tourists come to bask in the light of the single brightest object in our solar system, which has been proven to cause skin cancer. No big deal – after all, we’re on vacation.
Every year, millions of tourists come to swim in our sea. Well, technically it’s a gulf, filled with bacteria and harmful animals. No big deal – after all, we’re on vacation.
Every year, millions of tourists come to lay down in our sand. Sand, which I might add, that the city of Clearwater spends millions on each year to be trucked in and spread due to our deteriorating coastline. No big deal – after all, we’re on vacation.
Every year, millions of tourists come to buy our outrageously overpriced merchandise. I’m not saying that this is necessarily bad, but when I have to pay $2.25 for a coke at Pier 60, I’m gonna start complaining. But no big deal – after all, we’re on vacation.
It’s an odd concept, this “beach.” People go to sit on a field of dirt and to swim in the world’s toilet. I’d much rather be sitting home, in the air conditioning, with a cold drink by my side.
Now, I’m not bashing the beach, don’t get me wrong. Tourism is this city’s main income and because of Joe from Chicago wanting to give me all of his money, the roads are paved where I live and my life is generally more pleasant. I merely cannot comprehend what would make the beach an attractive place to go. Perhaps if I lived in Topeka, Kansas, I would feel differently and I would despise my city’s… corn.