Long time no post right...
I find that beside a certain people whose symbol is the star of David, the people who annoy me the most is people who call the wrong number. I hate when I'm away from my cell phone, some calls and leaves a voicemail and all the voicemail says "sorry I called the wrong number". Maybe you shouldn't leave that message and move on in your life. Because I'm tired of all these veterans saying they defended my freedom and then they turn around and harass me through the phone with their wrong numbers. It's just not funny...and I assume that veterans probably are not calling wrong numbers. They took Hill 14 in battle, they are not going to forget a seven digit phone number.
I think Akon said it best when he said "as life goes on I'm starting to learn more and more about responsibility". And in the past few weeks I have become the voice of reason on a few occasions. I've stopped doing steriods, I'm paying my child support, and I'm going to class. I'm like a grandfather, I've done it, I've seen it happen, and now I'm watching the freshmen do it again. But I think it all starts at the Theta Chi bottle and a date in early February. We were taking a lot of casualties as per usual when we try to party hard and somehow...some inconceivable way, I was taking care of people. Crazy.
At Jump in mid-February, which I failed to write about, I was hanging out with the pledges before the party started. Actually, I was already in party mode several hours before the party was to start. Well I see a freshmen talking to a girl and I have to intercede. I pull him aside and inform him that she is dating a brother. As soon as he walks away I started "spittin'" my mad game and she eventually came back with me. Nah, I'm just kidding...my night ended very early.
Then another part of being responsible is apologizing. And I'm sorry for Club Zen and getting shut down. And I apologize to Gwen Stefani. Oh, my bad that's Akon...he's out of control.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
My New Goal In Life
Everybody has a calling in their life. George Washington was to lead a country to indepedence. Adolf Hitler was to find a Final Solution to the Jewish Question. While one may be more important than the other and personally I don't mind living under British rule... I have found my new goal in life...I want to be in an issue of Cosmo.
I think the whole reason of wanting to be in Cosmo is pretty self-explanatory, if you want to look at an example look at Scott Brown of Massachusetts. Twenty years ago he was in Cosmo, now he's the senator-elect for Massachusetts. So I figure with my good looks and appearing in Cosmo, in twenty years I could be president. And isn't that the whole point of the American Dream, doesn't every kid want to grow up to be president of the country, even the ones that were born in Kenya. Well, Cosmo is the fastest route to Washington, DC.
Even if I don't have a photoshoot with the magazine, I could still dispense my knowledge of what guys think about girls to the huddled masses. Sitting in economics class instead of understanding the concepts of supply and demand, I think about the equilibrium point of girls. I know I don't stand alone in this but for guys there is a equilibrium point of trying to find hot girls and slutty girls. So we make a compromise of hot for trashy to take home; I do this all the time.
Number of Girls I've Taken Home: 0
I think this example of the equilibrium point is what I'll use next week on the test.
So back to my original thought...I want to be in Cosmo. So with your help: write to Cosmo, call the office, or throw a Molotov cocktail throught someone's window. But get me into the magazine.
I think the whole reason of wanting to be in Cosmo is pretty self-explanatory, if you want to look at an example look at Scott Brown of Massachusetts. Twenty years ago he was in Cosmo, now he's the senator-elect for Massachusetts. So I figure with my good looks and appearing in Cosmo, in twenty years I could be president. And isn't that the whole point of the American Dream, doesn't every kid want to grow up to be president of the country, even the ones that were born in Kenya. Well, Cosmo is the fastest route to Washington, DC.
Even if I don't have a photoshoot with the magazine, I could still dispense my knowledge of what guys think about girls to the huddled masses. Sitting in economics class instead of understanding the concepts of supply and demand, I think about the equilibrium point of girls. I know I don't stand alone in this but for guys there is a equilibrium point of trying to find hot girls and slutty girls. So we make a compromise of hot for trashy to take home; I do this all the time.
Number of Girls I've Taken Home: 0
I think this example of the equilibrium point is what I'll use next week on the test.
So back to my original thought...I want to be in Cosmo. So with your help: write to Cosmo, call the office, or throw a Molotov cocktail throught someone's window. But get me into the magazine.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Back in the USSR
You know...a lot of people forget that Vince Vaughn was in the movie Rudy. And I just wanted to point that out.
But to start out, last week I had an echogram which is an ultrasound for the heart. Now, I will never know the feeling of pregnancy, but seeing my heart on the sound can pretty much compare to looking at a fetus. To see the valves opening and letting blood out and letting new blood in was pretty crazy. And its also comforting to know that I shouldn't have a heart attack anytime soon. And more importantly, unless by some weird twist of fate, just like how some girls can have testicles...I will be so pissed if I have ovaries.
Friday on the other hand was pretty crappy. I found out my parents had to put our oldest dog down because she was over fifteen years old and herheart was never going to give out even though every other body function was quitting. So I assume all dogs go to heaven or Disney lied to me.
Later on that night, things would take a turn for the worse. Apparently last year during the aptly named Trailer Trash Bash, I was doing what I normally do and was shouting obscenities and being like a kid with tourette's syndrome. Well...I guess during the course of the night, I told a girl who was laying in front of house (now why was she laying in the front of the house, you may ask, who knows) to go find a ditch and pass away. On Friday, she found out who I was and things were slightly awkward. And by awkward, I mean things are less awkward on the Maury Show when the girl-finds-out-she-doesn't-who-her-baby's-daddy-is, illustrated here. But things were terrible that night and mainly because somehow I became the voice of the reason among our group. Yet, somehow I got kicked out of the house...weird.
So that's been the highlight of the past few days as I try to catch up on schoo work...haha just kidding, as I try to catch up on blogging. And by the way Mischler, you're welcome.
Finally, a shout out to Osama bin Laden. If you haven't heard his latest video makes fun of the U.S. for global warming. He must have not gotten the news that the information about global warming is pretty much false. It's like he's living in a cave...
But to start out, last week I had an echogram which is an ultrasound for the heart. Now, I will never know the feeling of pregnancy, but seeing my heart on the sound can pretty much compare to looking at a fetus. To see the valves opening and letting blood out and letting new blood in was pretty crazy. And its also comforting to know that I shouldn't have a heart attack anytime soon. And more importantly, unless by some weird twist of fate, just like how some girls can have testicles...I will be so pissed if I have ovaries.
Friday on the other hand was pretty crappy. I found out my parents had to put our oldest dog down because she was over fifteen years old and herheart was never going to give out even though every other body function was quitting. So I assume all dogs go to heaven or Disney lied to me.
Later on that night, things would take a turn for the worse. Apparently last year during the aptly named Trailer Trash Bash, I was doing what I normally do and was shouting obscenities and being like a kid with tourette's syndrome. Well...I guess during the course of the night, I told a girl who was laying in front of house (now why was she laying in the front of the house, you may ask, who knows) to go find a ditch and pass away. On Friday, she found out who I was and things were slightly awkward. And by awkward, I mean things are less awkward on the Maury Show when the girl-finds-out-she-doesn't-who-her-baby's-daddy-is, illustrated here. But things were terrible that night and mainly because somehow I became the voice of the reason among our group. Yet, somehow I got kicked out of the house...weird.
So that's been the highlight of the past few days as I try to catch up on schoo work...haha just kidding, as I try to catch up on blogging. And by the way Mischler, you're welcome.
Finally, a shout out to Osama bin Laden. If you haven't heard his latest video makes fun of the U.S. for global warming. He must have not gotten the news that the information about global warming is pretty much false. It's like he's living in a cave...
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Junior High Track and Racism
Monday was MLK Day. And you know I remember when Obama got elected, everyone was like I wonder what Martin Luther King, Jr. would say. And lets be honest, he probably would have been like, "way to go youngblood, way to go!" Also, since we are a private school, we didn't get off for MLK Day, talk about some BS. But now it's time to talk about racism.
Junior High Track was probably the most fun I've ever had running. At age 12, you know nothing about running and setting PR's, and you're only goal is to win. The thought process was always: if I win the county two mile, maybe that girl will date me. Junior high track also led to the greatest rivalries. The past US-USSR dual meets had nothing on Miller Junior High and East Fairmont Middle. Most of the meets were at night, so at every meet it was literally like running in the Olympic Finals...sorta.
Well, I think this month is Black History Month, which is funny because if there was a White History Month, things would be awk-ward. Looking back, junior high was my first introduction to black culture and junior high was so racist. At the first practice for track there was no greater example. All the white kids were told to run the 800 and up and all the black kids became sprinters. There was an Injun (see how racist that is) on the team and some confusion as to what he should run. He ended up at the 800. At one practice, one of the black kids on the team called all the white kids "crackers". So seventh grade was the first time I was insulted for my race. What are the odds.
I'm pretty sure if I could go back to any time in my life, it would have to be eighth grade. Everybody thought they were shit. If I could go back with the knowledge that I have now about human psychology, I would be an unstoppable force in my quest to be the coolest kid at junior high.
Junior High Track was probably the most fun I've ever had running. At age 12, you know nothing about running and setting PR's, and you're only goal is to win. The thought process was always: if I win the county two mile, maybe that girl will date me. Junior high track also led to the greatest rivalries. The past US-USSR dual meets had nothing on Miller Junior High and East Fairmont Middle. Most of the meets were at night, so at every meet it was literally like running in the Olympic Finals...sorta.
Well, I think this month is Black History Month, which is funny because if there was a White History Month, things would be awk-ward. Looking back, junior high was my first introduction to black culture and junior high was so racist. At the first practice for track there was no greater example. All the white kids were told to run the 800 and up and all the black kids became sprinters. There was an Injun (see how racist that is) on the team and some confusion as to what he should run. He ended up at the 800. At one practice, one of the black kids on the team called all the white kids "crackers". So seventh grade was the first time I was insulted for my race. What are the odds.
I'm pretty sure if I could go back to any time in my life, it would have to be eighth grade. Everybody thought they were shit. If I could go back with the knowledge that I have now about human psychology, I would be an unstoppable force in my quest to be the coolest kid at junior high.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Broken Hearts and Kneecaps
Well...my computer went to the Helpdesk and what are the odds...it now has to go to Japan and get fixed. This school is going to the dogs. The administration is letting in kids dumber than me and it is really bringing down the value of my education. I mean I'm sitting in class next to drug dealers and meth tweakers but at least its not teen moms. And speaking of teen moms, there is going to be a new season of 16 and Pregnant.
But to the point of this blog, broken hearts and kneecaps. A few days ago, I had a pain go through the left side of my body and it hurt like hell. I think the first thing I said after that was, "well I guess this is where I die". I could only assume that my rock n' roll lifestyle was catching up to me and I was having a heart attack at the age of 21. Because let's face it, the 60's were all about sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. I then thought maybe I had a broken heart because of my jaded view of love and the number of girls who have ripped my heart out and stepped on it*.
*Actual number of girls who have broken my heart: 0.
And now to broken kneecaps. It seems to be a tradition of falling down stairs and breaking kneecaps on the team. KC did it last year and then ran on it for like three days before getting an x-ray that showed a nice lighting bolt separation of his kneecap. Well, I recently fell down a flight of stairs myself and while my beautiful face was saved from disaster, I thought I broke my knee. The first thought that went through my mind was of the Kentucky Derby. You know when one of the horses falls to the ground and they hide it from the crowd with a white sheet and shoot it. Well, I just assumed if the rescue squad came, they would just put me down. But unlike Barbaro, I will be up and running in a few days and be leading from the back of the pack.
Now to the shout-outs. I'm writing this on Age's computer and so shout-outs to Age and Heidi. But this reminds me of Halloween my freshmen year. The season was pretty much over and I wore my Speed Racer Halloween costume to practice that day. The girls got mad at the guys because the girls thought the guys were hazing me (and let's be honest, I was the only freshmen, hazing doesn't describe what they were doing to me. The Jews at Buchenwald had it better than me. That was probably too far). But this little story is to reflect the rift between the guys and the girls team that existed for a few years. But look at it now, our team is as close as we can be. Also a shout-out to Loren, my biggest enemy and a big fan of the blog.
But to the point of this blog, broken hearts and kneecaps. A few days ago, I had a pain go through the left side of my body and it hurt like hell. I think the first thing I said after that was, "well I guess this is where I die". I could only assume that my rock n' roll lifestyle was catching up to me and I was having a heart attack at the age of 21. Because let's face it, the 60's were all about sex, drugs, and rock n' roll. I then thought maybe I had a broken heart because of my jaded view of love and the number of girls who have ripped my heart out and stepped on it*.
*Actual number of girls who have broken my heart: 0.
And now to broken kneecaps. It seems to be a tradition of falling down stairs and breaking kneecaps on the team. KC did it last year and then ran on it for like three days before getting an x-ray that showed a nice lighting bolt separation of his kneecap. Well, I recently fell down a flight of stairs myself and while my beautiful face was saved from disaster, I thought I broke my knee. The first thought that went through my mind was of the Kentucky Derby. You know when one of the horses falls to the ground and they hide it from the crowd with a white sheet and shoot it. Well, I just assumed if the rescue squad came, they would just put me down. But unlike Barbaro, I will be up and running in a few days and be leading from the back of the pack.
Now to the shout-outs. I'm writing this on Age's computer and so shout-outs to Age and Heidi. But this reminds me of Halloween my freshmen year. The season was pretty much over and I wore my Speed Racer Halloween costume to practice that day. The girls got mad at the guys because the girls thought the guys were hazing me (and let's be honest, I was the only freshmen, hazing doesn't describe what they were doing to me. The Jews at Buchenwald had it better than me. That was probably too far). But this little story is to reflect the rift between the guys and the girls team that existed for a few years. But look at it now, our team is as close as we can be. Also a shout-out to Loren, my biggest enemy and a big fan of the blog.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve
Well...I've been trying to come up with a post to describe what happened on New Year's Eve, but I'm at a loss for words. I think the highlight of the night would have to be blacking out at the bar...without buying a drink. I'm two for two in terms of blacking out when I party in Pittsburgh. Pretty soon it's gonna be everytime I cross the Fort Pitt Tunnel into the city I'll be in a zombie mode for the day.
I think the reason why my awesome night can be blamed on the drinks and who I was with. Bud Light, champagne*, vodka, tequila, and a inconveniently placed 5 Hour Energy seemed to bring my downfall.
*I really don't understand why people call it champagne. It is only champagne if it produced in the Champagne region of France, everything else is called sparkling wine.
The people I was with also equaled a great time. For some reason, I always assume anybody on a team from another school is a douchebag. Josh Wilks destroyed this myth. I think one of the highlights of the night was him having a bunch of do shots like tequila, only he mixed up the tequila with vodka and I took a nice big lick of salt off my hand before enjoying some cheap vodka. When I was in media res of my black-out, apparently Wilks and I were giggling and throwing water bottles at cars in the road.
So here I am getting ready to go run in the dark and thinking about crying. It is the year 2010. Hard to think about this, but ten years ago it was the year 2000. I've traded my life of playing Pokemon and watching cartoons for a life of playing Pokemon and watching cartoons. In final thoughts...I can't wait for New Year's Eve 2010.
I think the reason why my awesome night can be blamed on the drinks and who I was with. Bud Light, champagne*, vodka, tequila, and a inconveniently placed 5 Hour Energy seemed to bring my downfall.
*I really don't understand why people call it champagne. It is only champagne if it produced in the Champagne region of France, everything else is called sparkling wine.
The people I was with also equaled a great time. For some reason, I always assume anybody on a team from another school is a douchebag. Josh Wilks destroyed this myth. I think one of the highlights of the night was him having a bunch of do shots like tequila, only he mixed up the tequila with vodka and I took a nice big lick of salt off my hand before enjoying some cheap vodka. When I was in media res of my black-out, apparently Wilks and I were giggling and throwing water bottles at cars in the road.
So here I am getting ready to go run in the dark and thinking about crying. It is the year 2010. Hard to think about this, but ten years ago it was the year 2000. I've traded my life of playing Pokemon and watching cartoons for a life of playing Pokemon and watching cartoons. In final thoughts...I can't wait for New Year's Eve 2010.
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| Jason Jones: Behind the Veil - Ayatollah You So | ||||
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Monday, December 28, 2009
2009: A Year in Review
Instead of talking about winter training (and in reality, how fun is it to talk about running in the snow by yourself), I am going to give a nice little review of the past year.
- Participated in my 5th Jump Weekend. By far my drunkest. I went nearly 36 hours without sleep and drank the whole time. Needless to say my judgement wasn't nearly as sharp as it could be and the end result was that I got the boot from the fraternity house. After some counseling where I put up a strong defense, I am now willing to take 95% percent of the responsibility for my action, 5% is still reserved for Evan Wolfe for trapping me in my room.
- We (I didn't score any points) won conference in track. I will say this, at least I qualified for the 10k. But I dropped out of the 10k when I realized me winning the race wouldn't hurt the team's chance of losing the championship.
- Got put in handcuffs.
- Went to Senior Week as a 21 year old. No need to mention what happened during this uneventful trip.
- Celebrated in the joy of seeing Coop sick and miserable at the wedding of Bruce Willis/Raven's Coach John Harbaugh and Jenny/Jenny.
- Was on my third cross country conference championship (say that five times fast) team. Again, I was not on varsity but my leadership definitely led us to victory.
- Finished my senior thesis compliments of Wikipedia.
- Blacked-out in Pittsburgh and came around standing next to Boy-o inside Primanti Bros. at two in the morning.
- Avoided failing out of Wesland for the seventh semester in a row.
- I'm going back to Pittsburgh for New Year's Eve. I can't speculate but if I did this review next year, I can only assume with everybody coming to Pittsburgh, the events should play out like Ocean's Eleven. The original, not the one with George Clooney and Matt Damon being a d-bag. We will most likely knock over a casino or a car, depending on the amount of Captain consumed.
So as you can see, my year was filled with all sorts of shenanigans that got me into varying degrees of trouble. I can only hope that 2010 is better than 2009, minus the handcuffs and whips.
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