Posts in Category: Summer School

I Will Survive

For those urgently concerned about my wilderness survival skills, I am, in fact, alive and quite possibly kicking. I’m just not specifically blogging, because I’ve been spending all my time relaxing in preparation for summer school, which begins (for me) on Tuesday. Therefore, nothing notable has happened, and while that’s never stopped me before, it will stop me now.

Unless, of course, you really want to read extended, Dennis Miller-esque rants about how terrible people around here drive. Or detailed accounts of sitting around in soiled underwear, eating Cap’n Crunch and watching my stories. If I were you, dear, sweet reader who accidentally stumbled on this site while unsuccessfully searching Google for Vince Neil blowjob videos, I’d consider myself lucky.

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Angsty Rant of Fun!

I got really depressed last night about how things are going in pretty much every single aspect of my life. This is why I should not be allowed to sit around on my ass for more than a week. I start to think about my life, which is never a good thing, and then, being that my life is my life, I start to get depressed. Although some have argued that I’m always depressed—I just don’t notice it until I’m left to my own devices.

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If Only the Professor Were Mark Harmon…

Yesterday was the beginning of a new era in my college experience, one of trying frantically to get into as many summer school courses as I could so I can graduate some time before 2018. Of course, it’s me here, so obviously the two classes I desperately needed were either full or canceled, thus ensuring that everybody on the planet will soon be able to use the following exchange from Tommy Boy:

Chris Farley (for the purposes of this analogy, me): “A lot of people go to college for seven years.”

David Spade (any human being who will ever speak to me): “Yeah, they’re called doctors.”

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Friday Five (8)

Friday Five

1. What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do, but never have?
I’ve always wanted to keep an aluminum baseball bat in my car, so when some fucking cocksucker does something really inappropriate like drive 10 under or cut me off (or cut me off and then go 10 under), I can follow them, and then at the next light, bash all his or her fucking windows in.

That’ll learn ’em!

2. When someone asks your opinion about a new haircut/outfit/etc, are you always honest?
I am generally honest. Brutally honest. Unnecessarily honest. I am a horrible monster.

3. Have you ever found out something about a friend and then wished you hadn’t? What happened?
Yes. It seems like every few months, people start confiding horrible secrets that they haven’t told anyone else. I guess I’m trustworthy like that. But then, it’s like I become a partner in crime because I’m the only one who knows, so I’m always getting this extra secret information that I don’t want to know.

Most recently, that all happened with The Cheat, which is weird because I barely even knew him.

4. If you could live in any fictional world (from a book/movie/game/etc.) which would it be and why?
It’s weird, because the only stuff I watch/read/play that isn’t directly set in what is supposed to be the real world, it always creates a fictional universe that is a horrible, horrible place to live. So I wouldn’t really want to live in any place, except maybe the magical Mushroom Kingdom with Mario and Yoshi.

Or possibly Vice City, just for the fun of it.

5. What’s one talent/skill you don’t have but always wanted?
That magical and elusive coordination between hand and eye that one needs in order to actually hit a baseball with a bat. I don’t think I’ve ever hit a baseball since I played T-ball in preschool. And even then, it was a challenge.

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Lecture Week

This week, our professor went out of town for reasons that obviously aren’t any of my business, so we had guest-lecturers on Tuesday and today. The guy who came in on Tuesday gave the best sound lecture I’ve ever heard (and I’ve heard a lot), so he’s pretty kick-ass.

The guy who came in today tried to go over stuff that we’ve already gone over, or stuff that we will be going over soon (according to the syllabus), so he really didn’t have much of a lecture. Then, we spent about 30 minutes learning the ins and outs of the digital editing lab. Seeing 25 brand new G4s hooked up through A/V systems that would make baby Jesus weep, assuming baby Jesus was a computer geek and/or film editor, got me pretty excited. I am a tremendous geek.

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Friday Five (9)

Friday Five

1. Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short?
Straight. Short.

2. How has your hair changed over your lifetime?
When I was in elementary school, I used to shave it all off, except the back, which had a tail. If you can possibly believe it, that was a somewhat popular style back then. The longer the tail, the cooler you were, man.

Then, when I was in junior high and started getting into really terrible heavy-metal bands, I grew my hair out really long and I looked more retarded than I normally do.

Since then, I’ve had pretty much the same hairstyle.

3. How do your normally wear your hair?
Parted on the left.

4. If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like?
I’d grow it out really long and get a Peter Frampton perm.

5. Ever had a hair disaster? What happened?
I, specifically, haven’t, probably because I don’t do much experimentation. My sister has had a lot of problems, though. She used to dye her hair all the time, and she did it a little too often, so one time her hair came out gray. Then, another time, she got her hair cut really short and styled really stupidly, and it looked so bad she refused to go to school for three days until she could comb out the style.

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This morning, my mother started a new job. She’s working 6-10 a.m. at a store down the street from hour house. I decided that I’d start gradually getting up earlier and earlier, until I’m up with her at 5 a.m. I’ve been getting sick of waking up so late—the day zips by too quickly. Plus, with her out of the house for a little over four hours, I can actually work in peace and quiet.

Anyway, the plan this morning was to get up at 8 o’clock, blog about my weekend for an hour or so, and then either do something productive or watch Cowboy Bebop (probably the latter). But I, for the first time in my meager life, slept through my alarm.

Actually, it’s a physical impossibility for me to literally sleep through my alarm, but when I woke up this morning at 9:57, my alarm was off, so either I turned it off in my sleep because my subconscious didn’t want to have to get up that early, or it went off at 8 o’clock and I woke up and shut it off and was so tired, I fell right back asleep and don’t remember it.

Either way, that sucks.

Anyway, I have two decent stories, one about the ophthalmological horrors of Friday, the other about my cousin’s graduation party, that I haven’t had time to blog about, and probably won’t until the end of this week. Hopefully I won’t forget.

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Friday Five (10)

Friday Five

1. How are you planning to spend the summer [winter]?
In school. Enjoying myself.

2. What was your first summer job?
Making $5/hour (yes, it was even below minimum wage then) sweeping floors, stocking, and pulling inventory at my dad’s warehouse.

3. If you could go anywhere this summer [winter], where would you go?
I’d like to trace my ancestry back to Sicily, where I would meet and fall in love with a beautiful native who dies in a freak car-bombing. Then I’d come back home to New York and marry second-choice Diane Keaton.

4. What was your worst vacation ever?
I’d have to go with the Thanksgiving trip to visit my aunt in which I (1) broke my arm, (2) got lost in the woods, and (3) ate dry, horrible turkey that eventually caused some sort of brown-gray liquid to seep from various bodily orifices. Okay, that last part wasn’t true. The turkey wasn’t dry.

5. What was your best vacation ever?
I think “least worst vacation” is more appropriate. I’d vote for any vacation where I got to stay home and sit on my ass. I actually think any vacation shorter than a month that involves actually leaving town is more trouble than it’s worth. Plus, being spared decades of driving with the whole family harmonizing off-key to the cast recording of Les Misérables is a definite plus.

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The Hell?

My mom just had the following conversation with my grandpa:

Mom: How are you?
Grandpa (insincerely): Fine.
Mom: What does that mean?
Grandpa: Well, the doctor says I had a slight stroke a few days ago.
Mom (wtf?): A…slight stroke?
Grandpa: Thanks for sending pictures of your daughter’s new house.
Mom: Um. Maybe we should talk about this stroke.
Grandpa: Oh, I just have double vision. It’ll go away in a few days.
Mom: Have you been driving like that?
Grandpa: (long period of silence) No. So, she’s moving in today?

And after that point, he refused to talk about it. What the hell is wrong with my family?

Of course, I think I inherited the “never tell anybody anything serious unless you absolutely have to” gene.

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I’ve done a lot of really stupid things to impress women. I use “stupid” as a catch-all term for both the things that are dangerous and possibly illegal and the things that are just so utterly lame that I can’t believe that, at one point in time, I was completely convinced that it would seem really impressive.

Did you ever see that Simpsons where Milhouse gets Krusty’s autograph on his stomach to impress girls, and then he shows the girls, and they all run away screaming? That scene sums up roughly 60% of the things I’ve done to impress the fairer sex.

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