These go to 11
[ 1 Comment ] Posted on 11.16.04 in family, movies
I feel ashamed to say that before last night, none of may family has been privy to the wonder that is This Is Spinal Tap.
What’s even worse is that after buying the VHS version of the movie from Walgreens for $3.99 and watching it after our sojourn to Monty’s, the neighborhood pizza place, my father and mother did not give off vibes of extreme excitement for having been shown the light after 20 years of darkness.
I am seriously now considering that it is entirely possible that I was adopted.
Something’s Fishy, Redux
[ 4 Comments ] Posted on 11.11.04 in IB
After experimenting with 13 small fish for the IBO’s silly little Group IV Project, 9 died. So, sue us. If they didn’t want to die, they would have stopped peeing a long time ago.
Being the humanitarian I am, I put the remaining four into clean water to live out the rest of their days happily, not asphyxiating on their own urine. The other night, I put four in a new bowl and went to bed. The next morning, I got up and fed three fish.
Wait, what?
It appears one escaped! I looked all around – on the floor, behind the bowl, under the table on which their tank sat – to no avail. I surmised that one must have been so depressed to be a part of our cruel, cruel experiment he jumped from the bowl to its own death and decided that I would find it later.
That evening, I fed the three fish and went to bed. The next morning, I got up and fed two fish.
Wait, what?
Another one was gone by the wayside. Disgruntled, I continued with my daily life and looked again tonight for the remains of the fish. I only found one, which leaves the other that escaped available to murder me with a butcher knife while I sleep. I couldn’t take that risk any further, so I did what any self-respecting fish owner would do with the remaining fish and flushed them.
Bring it on, PETA. Bring it on.
My New Friend
[ 5 Comments ] Posted on 11.06.04 in friends, funny stories
Last night as I was waiting for Channing and Erin at Pioneer Park in Dunedin to see the Friday Night Film and proceed to Fritzee Freeze with some drama kids I don’t know, I showed up when Erin told me to, but was forced to wait for thirty minutes as a result of their tardiness. Toward the end of my wait, I sat on a bench and was approached by a freakily pasty white man with a backpack. Here’s how our conversation went.
FPWMWAB: What are they doing, showing a movie here tonight?
Me: Yeah, sure are.
FPWMWAB: What movie?
Me: Not sure – I think its some sort of old Martian film.
FPWMWAB: Oh. Is Dunedin a nice place?
Me: Yeah, I live in Clearwater. It’s much quieter here.
FPWMWAB: Yeah, downtown Clearwater past 8 is crazy.
Me: Yeah.
Awkward silence ensues…
FPWMWAB: Do you know when the last bus out of here is?
Me: No, sure don’t, sorry.
FPWMWAB: Waiting for someone?
Me: Yeah, you can never expect women to be on time.
FPWMWAB: Oh, well if you’re still together by Christmas, you should get her a watch.
Me: …No, it’s not just one girl.
FPWMWAB: Oh, so you’re a ladies man!
Me: That’s what they tell me…
FPWMWAB: Here, then maybe they’ll appreciate this.
FPWMWAB hands me a pamphlet consisting of his selected love poetry and passages from 1 Peter and Proverbs. I thumb through it, feigning interest.
Me: Oh, maybe they will. Thanks. The font is too small and it’s too dark – I can’t read it.
FPWMWAB: I can read it to you.
Me: No, that’s alright – I’ll save it for later.
Just then I spotted Channing and Erin across the street, and taking my chance to get out of the presence of FPWMWAB, I tried to pull out from the conversation.
Me: Oh, well… there they are. It was nice to meet yo-
FPWMWAB: Can you spare a dollar?
Me: No, sure cant; if I had any money, I wouldn’t be here.
FPWMWAB: Oh, then can I get that pamphlet back? I usually charge a dollar for it.
Me: Sure… Okay, there is my entourage, I have to go.
FPWMWAB: I can read it to them if you’d like.
Me: No.
Then I left the bench, directed the girls quite hastily away in the other direction, and attempted to avoid any and all contact with freakily pasty white man with a backpack for the rest of the evening. I last saw him backpacking across Douglas Avenue, walking into the darkness to do whatever it is that homeless people do.