So, a couple of weeks ago I was asked for a favor by a friend of mine. The same friend who tore down my backyard fence, punched multiple holes in my wall, cockblocked me and.. oh yeah, broke my ribs. Of course, everyone has realized by now this friend is named Jarred Douglas. Well, he and a few other potheads/initiates (Loud Josh, Mac, Jarred Sims some other people whose names I didn't care enough to remember) had decided they were in the mood for an adventure. So they set out to hike the App-trail (Appalachian Mountain Trail) in the middle of the winter. Sounds fun. A lot more fun than, say... sitting inside, getting wasted and taking for granted the joys that modern technology provide for us. When I was first propositioned by a certain dumbass Douglas, his request was a simple one. Since his mom, as awesome as she is, has awful vision he wanted me to drive the van she had rented back, so she wouldn't have to. As this was definately a scenario I could empathize with, I gladly agreed; especially after he told me he could make the drive up-state and thus, I only had to deal with the drive back home.
It's this point where this tale takes an unfortunate turn.
2:13 PM: Jarred, Josh, Mac and friends are dropped off somewhere right on the Tennessee-North Carolina border; which was also convienently the highest point of elevation in either state. It's at this moment where we were first bombarded by a barrage of snow. Luckily, I was more than prepared for this sudden storm. I was equipped with thong-sandals, a t-shirt and no jacket. However, I had made my promise and I was ready for the return trek home, or so I thought. The snow was piling up faster than anyone had expected. Even the weather personel on the radio were shocked. They said this was abnormal for a snow storm. The storm had all the characteristics of a flash-flood, just with snow instead of rain. Which was, an accurate description given there were frequent lightning strikes surrounding us.
So we're (Mrs. Douglas and I) going approximately 30-35mph at this point (on the highway), since going any faster would be suicidal in the massive 12-person behemoth van I was driving back. I could feel its back wheels slipping out from under me constantly, it was miserable. Then I notice the gas gauge; it was on E. If only the both of us would've listened to the infinite knowledge of Jarred Douglas earlier in the trip who had assured us we had plenty of fuel to make it all the way down the mountain. Alas, we did not. Even though we had only gone a few miles across the NC border I told Mrs. Douglas that I was getting off at the next exit I saw with a gas station, period. We did and suprisingly we got off at some strange-ass NC-Tennessee-border gas station/store/smoke-shop that was having customer appreciation day. So we pull up to this place, in the middle of nowhere and over a foot of snow of course, and there are these gas station workers, sitting outside grilling hot-dogs and hamburgers on this charcoal grill with this hilarious cardboard sign that says 'customer appreciation day,' on it. When I entered the establishment to use the restroom I also noticed they had a shitload of hookahs; aka bongs in there too. Awesome. Anyhow, Mrs. Douglas got her free hot-dog and we were back on the road; or so it would seem.
So we get back on interstate-25 for around.. say.. 3 minutes at most. Then IT comes. Boom. Roadblock. Travelality Check. It's somewhere after 3:00 (pm). So we waited. Then the first hour roles by; no movement.
5:13 not one inch; at this point I really really have to go to the bathroom but I really don't want to get out of the van with sandals on and freeze my ass off, I also haven't eaten anything all day but a couple of shitty fries from Arby's and some dissappointing gummy worms, which I wished were Trolli - Sour Brite Crawlers.
8:00 - It's dark, obviously. We still haven't moved, at all. I still have to take a piss, so I get out -in my sandals - in over a foot of snow and find a UPS truck to urinate behind. That's what brown did for me, I guess. Luckily we were one of the few vehicles that were able to crank out the heat the entire time since we had just filled up with gas prior to this debacle so I warmed up quickly.
8:30 (pm) - We're still sitting in the same place. The exact fucking same god damn place. I'm seething, unable to exert my outward rage in any acceptable form. Then it happens. Yes! Glory! A highway-patrol/saviour walks by our van! Mrs. Douglas rolls down the window and asks: 'excuse me sir, what exactly is the problem?' He responds 'Oh a tracktor trailer jack-knifed up ahead, and then another one jack-knifed ahead of it so the rescue crew couldn't get to it before they take care of the other truck. Mrs. Douglas then asked the exact question I was thinking... "That's it? So what took so long?" Officer: "Well rescue crews couldn't get to it. And after we got them both cleared a tree fell down right in the middle of the bridge. (I almost totally lose it at this point) Would you believe that?" Mrs. Douglas starts laughing and conversing with the officer. I am on the brink of erupting. Mrs Douglas then asks: "So when can we look to get out of here?" The officer responds: "Probably 10:30ish." "Alright," she says, and we wait.
11:30 - I arouse from my reclining position in the drivers seat to see headlights flickering and movement up ahead. I am joyous. Finally! We start moving. My excitement is hindered when we stop approximately a quarter of a mile later, maybe less. God fucking damnit. Another stupid-ass cop sidles up to the side of our van of misery and Mrs. Douglas once again, rightfully so, questions him. 'Hey, what's the hold up?' she asked. 'Another tractor trailer jack-knifed,' said the piece of shit officer. I thought you had just fixed that problem, we both asked. 'Yeah but right after we did, another one jack-knifed in the same place. By now, you'd hope these fucking morons would've seen a pattern; but not yet. It'd take approximately 5-more jack-knifed trucks, in a row mind you, for them to realize this and finally tell all the trucks to pull over. Fucking idiots.
12:00 (am) - I'm still sitting in the van, contemplating killing myself. The exact spot we seemed to have been stranded in had no radio signal - whatsover. Despite the fact that about a hundred feet ago we had both Charlotte and (Tr)Ashville stations. Mrs. Douglas laughed at that... needless to say, I did not. We spotted another officer walking by. So once again Mrs. D asked him what the scenario was. His reply was: 'Yeah we probably won't get through this all night, you better find a motel or just sleep in your car, sorry but we aren't going anywhere.' It was at this point I, obviously, was at my breaking point. I contemplated getting out and trying to falsely 'juke' out a car on the other side of the road and just die. Although I knew Mrs. Douglas couldn't drive home so I knew I was stuck in the land of the living, for now; and probably not to much longer anyhow.
12:58 - I see a plow truck finally drive past us on the right side. I am speechless. The same douchebag cop who tells us we won't move all night comes by again to tell us we've got a plow truck ahead and we're good to go! Yes. So we finally get moving. Albeit slower than 30mph the entire time but we were at least making progress. Meanwhile Mrs. Douglas is constantly asking me to drive, if I am hungry and telling me to let her know if I get tired, which I kept telling her, isn't possible. Even though I know she obviously means well.
2:04 - We finally get off of I-25, and travel onto I-40. We had been on I-25 this entire time, for a duration of less than 5 miles.
2:59 - We're still on I-40 and it's total anarchy. While normally I'd appreciate that, not driving a 12-person rear-wheel drive behemoth in downright abysmal conditions. I've never seen so many cars off of the road; I could honestly say there was minimum 1 wrecked car every mile. That's beside the people I saw wreck in front of me trying to pass me because I was going a safe speed in the only 'safe' lane that existed. I even saw this one dumbass white pickup truck try to gun it and pass me and another person only to fishtail and then SLAM into the median, like a bitch. It's always chevy pickup guys who pull that kind of dumbass shit for some reason.
5:31 (AM) - Finally we get to I-77 and unfortunately the conditions aren't much better than I-40. Although any improvement is better I suppose. Random patches of unplowed snow/ice/sleet still happen randomly so I still can't go faster than 30mph. Finally around Mooresville, exit 36, I am able to go above 40mph for the first time the entire fucking god damn trip. And then slightly past that I actually could achieve the speed limit of 55 near exit 31. An hour-and-fucking-half trip up to Asheville turned to 20 god-damn hours.
6:43 - I pulled up to the Douglas residence. Mrs Douglas goes: 'Boy I can't wait to tell Jarred about this! He will not believe it, I'm tellin' you Chase he won't believe it! I promise you!' Me: 'Mrs. Douglas, I can personally guarantee you that he will. I'm here.'
Chalk up another big RC (reality check) for C-McG-4.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
NBA Finals
Originally, I was planning on making a post a day or two after game one of the finals happened, to inform my massive reader-base on which player received the much anticipated McGovern Player of the Game award for game one - And the subsequent points other players received. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to do so since the page I had tracked the stats on was pilfered from my McGovern Player of the Game spiral notepad. Since I had been inebriated while watching game one, I originally thought I might have put it on the wrong notepad. After searching and subsequently discovering every other notepad in the basement I ruled out the already unlikely scenario that I had lost it. Then I thought back to the last time I had seen it and had an epiphany; I had been trying to figure out who would have a motive and/or access to my records when it hit me. History repeats itself... In the past a certain Mexican friend of mine had obviously been jealous of my highly accoladed finals picks, even to the extent of tearing all my previous records up out of frustration, obviously for my higher understanding for the intricacies of the NBA and sports in general. This same feaster of fajitas was also present the night before I noticed the page missing. I even remembered him picking up the notebook and commenting on my points and picks. After I realized the assailant's identity, I wasn't angry; just merely dissappointed. Luckily, I remembered whom exactly the McGovern Player of the Game (Game 1) was - Kobe Bryant, with a score of +8. Unluckily, I can't list the scores of all the other players at this time.
On to game two... Game two was definately more entertaining than game one in it's entirety. I'm pretty sure between the third and fourth quarters neither team deviated from a lead of less than 3 points. Although I want the Lakers to win the series, I was rooting for the Magic; I'd like it to go to at least six or seven games, for entertainment purposes - and because the Magic having been disrespected this entire post-season, deserve some (respect). Although respect isn't entirely deserved from basically anyone on either team given that the referees this season are blind, retarded, inconsistent or flat out don't know the rules. It annoys the shit out of me that this post season - which I've watched the vast majority of has probably been the best post season I've seen in a long time and yet the calls are utterly contrary. Hopefully that's not a catch 22 scenario. Early in the playoffs there were so many flagrants - obvious ones - the refs needed to 'crack down' to an extent, but now they're just calling fouls on everything and every quarter gets essentially doubled; it's retarded.
LeBron. Yes the same over-rated football player who is now watching the finals from his couch rather than in person. Yes, I said football player on purpose. He is the consensus 'best player in the NBA," yet the majority - I'd even go as far as 65% - of the time he drives to the basket he simultaneously can't and isn't trying to score. He just runs, as fast as he can at anyone within the supposed restricted area near the rim and... decks them, as hard as he can. It's stupid. He can essentially draw a foul, at any moment of any game, any time he wants; especially because he's LeBron James; his stardom only intensifies this fact. This is yet another reason the Kobe vs. LeBron debate ends swiftly in the Bryant camp; Kobe doesn't have to resort to this to score. I was so frustrated at LeBron's practice of this - not that I blame him, if the refs are going to continually call it why wouldn't he - in the Eastern Conference Finals I created a newfound category in the McGovern Player of the Finals just for him. It's also an inaugural in that it's the first one not to be related to person actually playing in the finals. Everytime LeBron's name is mentioned during the finals, he gets a score of -1 on the McGovern Player of the Game scoring card. Originally, I thought I'd only give him a -1 when an announcer or player mentioned his name, but after seeing those fucking annoying Kobe/LeBron puppet commercials I decided he should be repremanded for every single time. Especially because his dumb-failure ass is sitting on his couch and watching every single one of those commercials, getting a much deserved...
Reality Check.
PS. Here is the part I'm sure you've all been waiting for, the scores for McGovern Player of the Game - Game 2:
Lakers:
Ariza: +4
Gaso: +4
Bynum: 0
Bryant: +7
Fisher: +4
Odom: +7
Walton: 0
Farmar: +1
Vujacic: 0
Brown: 0
Magic:
Alston: +1
Lewis: +12**
Howard: +8
Turkoglu: +9
Lee: 0
Pietrus: +2
Battie: 0
Gortat: 0
Nelson: +1
Redick: +1
LeBron: -24***
*These are overall/final scores.
**Bold+Italics indicates McGovern Player of the Game
***Jeff Gordon
On to game two... Game two was definately more entertaining than game one in it's entirety. I'm pretty sure between the third and fourth quarters neither team deviated from a lead of less than 3 points. Although I want the Lakers to win the series, I was rooting for the Magic; I'd like it to go to at least six or seven games, for entertainment purposes - and because the Magic having been disrespected this entire post-season, deserve some (respect). Although respect isn't entirely deserved from basically anyone on either team given that the referees this season are blind, retarded, inconsistent or flat out don't know the rules. It annoys the shit out of me that this post season - which I've watched the vast majority of has probably been the best post season I've seen in a long time and yet the calls are utterly contrary. Hopefully that's not a catch 22 scenario. Early in the playoffs there were so many flagrants - obvious ones - the refs needed to 'crack down' to an extent, but now they're just calling fouls on everything and every quarter gets essentially doubled; it's retarded.
LeBron. Yes the same over-rated football player who is now watching the finals from his couch rather than in person. Yes, I said football player on purpose. He is the consensus 'best player in the NBA," yet the majority - I'd even go as far as 65% - of the time he drives to the basket he simultaneously can't and isn't trying to score. He just runs, as fast as he can at anyone within the supposed restricted area near the rim and... decks them, as hard as he can. It's stupid. He can essentially draw a foul, at any moment of any game, any time he wants; especially because he's LeBron James; his stardom only intensifies this fact. This is yet another reason the Kobe vs. LeBron debate ends swiftly in the Bryant camp; Kobe doesn't have to resort to this to score. I was so frustrated at LeBron's practice of this - not that I blame him, if the refs are going to continually call it why wouldn't he - in the Eastern Conference Finals I created a newfound category in the McGovern Player of the Finals just for him. It's also an inaugural in that it's the first one not to be related to person actually playing in the finals. Everytime LeBron's name is mentioned during the finals, he gets a score of -1 on the McGovern Player of the Game scoring card. Originally, I thought I'd only give him a -1 when an announcer or player mentioned his name, but after seeing those fucking annoying Kobe/LeBron puppet commercials I decided he should be repremanded for every single time. Especially because his dumb-failure ass is sitting on his couch and watching every single one of those commercials, getting a much deserved...
Reality Check.
PS. Here is the part I'm sure you've all been waiting for, the scores for McGovern Player of the Game - Game 2:
Lakers:
Ariza: +4
Gaso: +4
Bynum: 0
Bryant: +7
Fisher: +4
Odom: +7
Walton: 0
Farmar: +1
Vujacic: 0
Brown: 0
Magic:
Alston: +1
Lewis: +12**
Howard: +8
Turkoglu: +9
Lee: 0
Pietrus: +2
Battie: 0
Gortat: 0
Nelson: +1
Redick: +1
LeBron: -24***
*These are overall/final scores.
**Bold+Italics indicates McGovern Player of the Game
***Jeff Gordon
Friday, March 27, 2009
March Mediocrity
Incase anyone couldn't tell, I haven't checked my blog in a while and apparently, I had this one in the que for a while. Unfortunately it'd have been way more appropriate in March, however I figure better late than never. Also, it's still applies to all gay college sports.
To be honest, I have never 'got' college sports; well, more importantly why ANYONE likes them. I guess there is the whole "I'm in college so it's a free excuse to get drunk appeal," however I'm pretty sure most of the big college sports fans (who are all huge tools for the record) use this more of an excuse than anything. I can understand why, to be honest. The regular season (I'm mostly talking about college basketball hence the 'March' reference but a lot of this refers to the even more stupid college football.) in college sports in general make no sense. "Hey, let's play a lot of games that are slightly meaningfull to have people rank us on reputation! SWEEET! Obviously I'm talking more about college BB than the NCAA tournament, but honestly it's overhyped and overdone. Although at least it has a semblance of a 'playoff' style as opposed to college football. People say college sports are fun to watch? I don't get it. Do people like seeing 90% of games being boring blowouts? Do people enjoy scrubs making dumbass mistakes to screw their own team over? Do people like seeing no traveling during the month of March (sarcasm)? Do people in their right mind honestly compare any of these games to professional sports? There is only one word which explains why anyone would do so; okay well two: alchohol, loyalty (stupidity); wait 3, boredome?
Yes, I know, this arguement has already been made for football on espn ALL the time. I've heard certain supposed self-imposed sports guru's claim 'The NBA sucks, they don't play til the 4th quarter." You idiots and mexican friends of mine know who you are. Luckily the opinion of most of those mentioned are idiots and it isn't supported by the NBA season (who I'm sure they'll claim to follow - through sports center, no doubt.) It's alright though, we can always look at the 'more exciting' NCAA tournament, which for lots of teams makes the regular season irrelevant and then when it doesn't has idiots saying 'Cinderalla' hundreds of times. Then it can just rely on refs, who can't or don't call travels and luck - of course.
Stewart Scott: One of the biggest tools ever (wink).
Fuck tiger woods.
To be honest, I have never 'got' college sports; well, more importantly why ANYONE likes them. I guess there is the whole "I'm in college so it's a free excuse to get drunk appeal," however I'm pretty sure most of the big college sports fans (who are all huge tools for the record) use this more of an excuse than anything. I can understand why, to be honest. The regular season (I'm mostly talking about college basketball hence the 'March' reference but a lot of this refers to the even more stupid college football.) in college sports in general make no sense. "Hey, let's play a lot of games that are slightly meaningfull to have people rank us on reputation! SWEEET! Obviously I'm talking more about college BB than the NCAA tournament, but honestly it's overhyped and overdone. Although at least it has a semblance of a 'playoff' style as opposed to college football. People say college sports are fun to watch? I don't get it. Do people like seeing 90% of games being boring blowouts? Do people enjoy scrubs making dumbass mistakes to screw their own team over? Do people like seeing no traveling during the month of March (sarcasm)? Do people in their right mind honestly compare any of these games to professional sports? There is only one word which explains why anyone would do so; okay well two: alchohol, loyalty (stupidity); wait 3, boredome?
Yes, I know, this arguement has already been made for football on espn ALL the time. I've heard certain supposed self-imposed sports guru's claim 'The NBA sucks, they don't play til the 4th quarter." You idiots and mexican friends of mine know who you are. Luckily the opinion of most of those mentioned are idiots and it isn't supported by the NBA season (who I'm sure they'll claim to follow - through sports center, no doubt.) It's alright though, we can always look at the 'more exciting' NCAA tournament, which for lots of teams makes the regular season irrelevant and then when it doesn't has idiots saying 'Cinderalla' hundreds of times. Then it can just rely on refs, who can't or don't call travels and luck - of course.
Stewart Scott: One of the biggest tools ever (wink).
Fuck tiger woods.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Checking back in...
So it's been a while longer than I expected to actually have something to say. Well, that's not necessarily true, the reality of it is that it's been longer than I expected..., and I would keep getting too wasted to post the things I meant to anytime I had something to say. Unfortunately I have sort of a catch 22 situation on my hands, I occasionally get drunk, then the fractured dam that is my mind is flooded with great ideas. Unfortunately when it is flooded to a certain extent it overflows causing me to totally ignore the very same reality I should be informing others on. It's a tough scenario. All I'm saying is, I've got to do a better job not for me, not for you but for jesus.
Speaking of Jesus... people are retarded. Yes, I know what you're thinking that's totally true if theyre religious but wait there's more. Okay so, everyone agrees that jesus (and no I will never capitalize that) is the son of god (that either) who is religious and all. Then why do so many people (read: idiots) 'praise jesus?' Why go to subordinate when you can go to the man (so to speak) .ie -god himself? And if subordinates are good enough then why not pray to the holy spirit. I have never seen anyone do this unless they were doing that stupid meaningless cross gesture. If the holy spirit did exist it'd be like the Luigi of the trinity anyhow, so I guess that's probably why. When people do that 'father, son, holy spirit' the holy spirit is totally last and lower; it's like god, jesus (also called the lord in baptist(and some other protestant) religions, ie. even more stupid than normal protestants) are shoulder height then the holy spirit is stomach level.
Speaking of things people stomachs, how about the 'blood of christ.' Which is alchohol - awesome. Think about how many options the Catholic church had to pick from for this, yet they picked alchohol, totally awesome. So if you think about it, alchoholics are really borderline divinity. Afterall, they're living a life just following the blood of christ - with divinity flowing through their veins.., what can be more holy than that? Unless the pope is an alchoholic - which would be ultimate and awesome; afterall alchohol is one of gods many creations - like Lygers and global warming.
I wanted to give a quick update on the mouse scenario as well, however it's late as hell and I kind of want to play Fifa 08 (the one that takes skill...unlike Fifa 09), so now that I'm feeling back in the groove of things, I'll just do that tomorrow or saturday. I have to get in the habit of just doing quick blog posts more frequently instead of trying to fit everything in one larger one.
PS. I think my basement might have more cans (ALL BEAST CANS - ok maybe 2-3 krapstone cans people forgot to throw out) total than my esteemed can collection. A fact I should probably be more ashamed of than proud - but of course I have no shame, care or sense of an actual reality...check.
Speaking of Jesus... people are retarded. Yes, I know what you're thinking that's totally true if theyre religious but wait there's more. Okay so, everyone agrees that jesus (and no I will never capitalize that) is the son of god (that either) who is religious and all. Then why do so many people (read: idiots) 'praise jesus?' Why go to subordinate when you can go to the man (so to speak) .ie -god himself? And if subordinates are good enough then why not pray to the holy spirit. I have never seen anyone do this unless they were doing that stupid meaningless cross gesture. If the holy spirit did exist it'd be like the Luigi of the trinity anyhow, so I guess that's probably why. When people do that 'father, son, holy spirit' the holy spirit is totally last and lower; it's like god, jesus (also called the lord in baptist(and some other protestant) religions, ie. even more stupid than normal protestants) are shoulder height then the holy spirit is stomach level.
Speaking of things people stomachs, how about the 'blood of christ.' Which is alchohol - awesome. Think about how many options the Catholic church had to pick from for this, yet they picked alchohol, totally awesome. So if you think about it, alchoholics are really borderline divinity. Afterall, they're living a life just following the blood of christ - with divinity flowing through their veins.., what can be more holy than that? Unless the pope is an alchoholic - which would be ultimate and awesome; afterall alchohol is one of gods many creations - like Lygers and global warming.
I wanted to give a quick update on the mouse scenario as well, however it's late as hell and I kind of want to play Fifa 08 (the one that takes skill...unlike Fifa 09), so now that I'm feeling back in the groove of things, I'll just do that tomorrow or saturday. I have to get in the habit of just doing quick blog posts more frequently instead of trying to fit everything in one larger one.
PS. I think my basement might have more cans (ALL BEAST CANS - ok maybe 2-3 krapstone cans people forgot to throw out) total than my esteemed can collection. A fact I should probably be more ashamed of than proud - but of course I have no shame, care or sense of an actual reality...check.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
New beginnings
Irony in Instruction
So today was my first day back in class. It started far too early (6am - the earliest I've gotten up in I can't remember) and ended far too late (my last class ended at 4:20 (insert something lame about marijuana here)). Although the day was generally boring and somewhat a blur since I'd been hungover as hell during my first 3 classes it wasn't a total loss. The last class I attended was a communications class. Immediately upon walking in I almost laughed while I realized the irony present in this course/section. I'm in a communications class with a teacher who has a massive speech impediment. During her overview of the first day material there were several words she couldn't even communicate to me. This isn't like she drags her S's, it's like she has down-syndrome or something. During her examples of communication interactions she gave several examples of ideas or stimuli interfering with the communication process. Let's just say there was a vital and extremely appropriate one she totally missed out on (the ability to speak correctly...). Also I learned the heart is apparently, part of the central nervous system. Good to know... Apparently she has a Phd in communications to boot, which I guess is even better... except for the fact that she thinks she's a real doctor and will probably be a bitch throughout the semester - a fact made even worse by the issue of her not being able to actually communicate with me because I can't understand her. This is beside the fact she mispronounced (and not because of her speech problem) a few words several times, of which I can't recall in my current state... unfortunately. Comparable to Homer Simpsons pronunciation of 'Nuclear,' basically.
Mouse Hunt
So after the other night when I got wasted, well obviously and decided I was solving my maverick mouse problem I decided to place a 'humane-mousetrap' in my ceiling (which only catch and don't kill the vermin), since this was primarily where I had heard Dirk so far. I placed some peanut butter in there and placed it above one of my ceiling tiles. Fortunately for me and Dirk Nowitzki I haven't heard him since the night after I put the trap up there. Unfortunately for Mr. Nowitzki... I was pretty wasted when I planted it and I currently have no clue where it is, given the amount of ceiling tiles in my basement. Ive done brief searches of various spots where I figured I'd have put the trap but so far but I've just come up empty; except for once. For some reason there was a table out of place in my bedroom, near by bedside, so I decided this was cause to search the tiles above it for the trap. I removed one tile and didn't see much until I noticed what looked like a dilapidated magazine page. So I pulled it out. Turns out it was some page out of some old-school 80's porn magazine, which I found entertaining. So then I proceeded to investigate this and when I moved said ceiling tile a shitload of magazine page shards fell down everywhere. Apparently, some vermin also enjoy porn magazines. There were a shitload of pages up there, half of them chewed in half; the other half were just hilarious. Most of these girls bush's were only trumped by their boobs. One was of some girl who had 10lb tits, 5lbs each apparently...awesome. I put them in a drawer for now just for entertainment value although I'll probably never look at them again and should just throw them out. Unfortunately there are now magazine scraps all over the floor in my room and near the trash so I guess I'll have to deal with those and just not touch that tile again. Either way I figure it was a decent suprise. Although Dirk is still up there somewhere, getting what he deserves...a Reality Check.
513
So today was my first day back in class. It started far too early (6am - the earliest I've gotten up in I can't remember) and ended far too late (my last class ended at 4:20 (insert something lame about marijuana here)). Although the day was generally boring and somewhat a blur since I'd been hungover as hell during my first 3 classes it wasn't a total loss. The last class I attended was a communications class. Immediately upon walking in I almost laughed while I realized the irony present in this course/section. I'm in a communications class with a teacher who has a massive speech impediment. During her overview of the first day material there were several words she couldn't even communicate to me. This isn't like she drags her S's, it's like she has down-syndrome or something. During her examples of communication interactions she gave several examples of ideas or stimuli interfering with the communication process. Let's just say there was a vital and extremely appropriate one she totally missed out on (the ability to speak correctly...). Also I learned the heart is apparently, part of the central nervous system. Good to know... Apparently she has a Phd in communications to boot, which I guess is even better... except for the fact that she thinks she's a real doctor and will probably be a bitch throughout the semester - a fact made even worse by the issue of her not being able to actually communicate with me because I can't understand her. This is beside the fact she mispronounced (and not because of her speech problem) a few words several times, of which I can't recall in my current state... unfortunately. Comparable to Homer Simpsons pronunciation of 'Nuclear,' basically.
Mouse Hunt
So after the other night when I got wasted, well obviously and decided I was solving my maverick mouse problem I decided to place a 'humane-mousetrap' in my ceiling (which only catch and don't kill the vermin), since this was primarily where I had heard Dirk so far. I placed some peanut butter in there and placed it above one of my ceiling tiles. Fortunately for me and Dirk Nowitzki I haven't heard him since the night after I put the trap up there. Unfortunately for Mr. Nowitzki... I was pretty wasted when I planted it and I currently have no clue where it is, given the amount of ceiling tiles in my basement. Ive done brief searches of various spots where I figured I'd have put the trap but so far but I've just come up empty; except for once. For some reason there was a table out of place in my bedroom, near by bedside, so I decided this was cause to search the tiles above it for the trap. I removed one tile and didn't see much until I noticed what looked like a dilapidated magazine page. So I pulled it out. Turns out it was some page out of some old-school 80's porn magazine, which I found entertaining. So then I proceeded to investigate this and when I moved said ceiling tile a shitload of magazine page shards fell down everywhere. Apparently, some vermin also enjoy porn magazines. There were a shitload of pages up there, half of them chewed in half; the other half were just hilarious. Most of these girls bush's were only trumped by their boobs. One was of some girl who had 10lb tits, 5lbs each apparently...awesome. I put them in a drawer for now just for entertainment value although I'll probably never look at them again and should just throw them out. Unfortunately there are now magazine scraps all over the floor in my room and near the trash so I guess I'll have to deal with those and just not touch that tile again. Either way I figure it was a decent suprise. Although Dirk is still up there somewhere, getting what he deserves...a Reality Check.
513
Friday, January 9, 2009
I need Nos.
On a totally unrelated issue, Nos has a blog as well. And needless to say I'm sure his happenings halfway across the world are far more interesting than mine which entail walking halfway across a basement - and basically nothing else. Anyhow: http://nastynos.blogspot.com/.
A True Maverick
Basement Bastion
I am referring to Dirk Nowitzki of course. Not the player who is a huge cocksucker and whines about everything. I'm referring to his vermin cousin; who resides somewhere within the walls of the same basement I reside in. About two weeks ago Dirk decided to wage war by continually waking me up at night by gnawing something... I have no clue what. I do know however, it's either in my ceiling or wall. I've tried to scare him off but after a few days I realized he wasn't backing down. Obviously, this meant war.
Well so far in this war I waged; I can regrettably say I am losing the battle thus far. So far Dirk seems easily smarter than his old predecessor, Otis. The other night, well like four nights ago, I decided to go on the offensive and place some traps for Mr. Nowitzki. One of them was admitteldy makeshift; a small pathway via curtain rod into a tin bin with a bunch of peanut butter in the bottom, placed right outside a hole his predecessor had made. Of course I also placed one of the lethal variety nearby. Needless to say he didn't bite on either. He did however, circumvent my 'lethal' traditional mousetrap. I had placed a small 'dab' of peanut butter on the traditional mousetrap; which was now all gone. Somehow Dirk managed to get the peanut butter off the entire trap without setting it off. As impressed as I am with Dirk's savvy, sleeping on a couch outside my room because I keep getting woken up by a god damn fucking mouse negates that respect...and this vermin has gone to far. I'm guaranteeing I catch this thing within the next two days.
Reality Check.
513
I am referring to Dirk Nowitzki of course. Not the player who is a huge cocksucker and whines about everything. I'm referring to his vermin cousin; who resides somewhere within the walls of the same basement I reside in. About two weeks ago Dirk decided to wage war by continually waking me up at night by gnawing something... I have no clue what. I do know however, it's either in my ceiling or wall. I've tried to scare him off but after a few days I realized he wasn't backing down. Obviously, this meant war.
Well so far in this war I waged; I can regrettably say I am losing the battle thus far. So far Dirk seems easily smarter than his old predecessor, Otis. The other night, well like four nights ago, I decided to go on the offensive and place some traps for Mr. Nowitzki. One of them was admitteldy makeshift; a small pathway via curtain rod into a tin bin with a bunch of peanut butter in the bottom, placed right outside a hole his predecessor had made. Of course I also placed one of the lethal variety nearby. Needless to say he didn't bite on either. He did however, circumvent my 'lethal' traditional mousetrap. I had placed a small 'dab' of peanut butter on the traditional mousetrap; which was now all gone. Somehow Dirk managed to get the peanut butter off the entire trap without setting it off. As impressed as I am with Dirk's savvy, sleeping on a couch outside my room because I keep getting woken up by a god damn fucking mouse negates that respect...and this vermin has gone to far. I'm guaranteeing I catch this thing within the next two days.
Reality Check.
513
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
...all through the house, not a creature was stirring except a fucking mouse...
Christmas Card
Of course all 'cards' of any type are worthless but this one, while not particulary bold or funny caught my eye. Especially since it was one of my 'relatives (you know, the people who you cant help being related to after birth).'
"No day quite like Christmas..." -True
"no family quite like ours..." -Sad, but true. I was confused by the whole family part but I read on anyhow.
"no memories quite like the ones a grandson makes" - Also sad but almost still funny because I never had an x-mas memories with this relative... ever, plus I didn't have many memories at all this last Christmas day.
Hallmark...
Everyone always says it's the thought that counts; Alright, well then seriously how much thought does it take to get some premade bullshit card which means nothing and doesn't apply to you at all from a store - usually Hallmark? Not much in my book. Why not just send me a fucking e-mail that says 'I thought of a tree too,' and save some fucking paper. Fuck Hallmark, it's just another reason our society is going to a state of anomie. If I ever saw someone turn over a card to check if it was from Hallmark I'd seriously consider reverse-heel-kicking them in the face.
Customer 'Service'
Okay so...the customer is always right, supposedly. So then why do cashiers give you your change AND your cash in the same hand. It's a huge pain in the ass to deal with and just hinders the line when the customer has to stop, take the change in his/her other hand and then deal with the cash seperately. This not only hinders the entire flow of a line but inconveniences the customer, someone who is supposedly always right and should be catered to.
New Blinds
So the other day I got frustrated at not being able to see my monitor in true form because of the window in back of my desk which in a dimly lit basement causes severe backlight. Originally I tried to remedy this with a beach-towel which I taped to the top of the window-frame, but repeatedly fell off despite how much 'gorilla tape' I put on it. After I woke up on the third morning I'd been trying to block the window I decided to change my plan of action. I figured some thin sheet might be better but after failing to find such a garment I started looking for alternative means. No sooner did I walk in my kitchen when I saw the massive pile of Totino's and Milwaukee's Best Light boxes did I realize the solution to my problem...So I cut up about 10 Totino's boxes and a case of Beast and constructed the most glorious blinds possible. Totino, gorilla tape and most importantly Beast light right in the middle. The only thing better than the blinds themselves will probably be Chuck McGovern's reaction when he sees them.
Dirk Nowitzki
That's the name I've given to Otis Mousequivitz's successor; the mouse who has kept me up the past several nights chewing on something in my ceiling or wall. I felt the name Dirk Nowitzki was appropriate given the fact that I'm going to take pleasure when I eventually feel joy in killing this piece of shit vermin. I had originally thought about eminem but I figured Id go with the original germanic name scheme that had started with Otis himself.
For a little backstory a few years ago when the basement was in it's prime... we had an invader as it would seem. An uninvited mouse who was seemingly uncatchable. Only after buying several mousetraps did the reality surface that it wasn't only Otis, it was his whole crew of mice. I think it's also important to mention here that this is where I developed one of my ultra-sensory perceptions.... mouse sense; the ability to sense any mouse within a certain radius. Needless to say thanks to the traps and my senses basement was rid of vermin fairly quickly...until now.
When I first heard him I was playing Burnout Paradise, no doubt being mad at the awful changes Criterion games made to one of my favorite racing games. Then I heard scampering above the ceiling tiles. It sounded loud at first, so I wasn't sure it was a mouse; but then I got my Louisville slugger and started running around following the sound slamming the ceiling tiles, in hope of injuring the rodent or at least knocking it down to the floor. Obviously ...that didn't happen. It went into stealth-mode or ran off and I eventually gave up and went back to PS-3. The next night I was awoken by a quaint sound of gnawing wood. I couldn't hear exactly where it was coming from exactly over the fan blowing on my face but I knew it was in my general vicinity and I knew I couldn't get back to sleep with that sound. So I got up and slapped the walls and bashed a bunch of ceiling tiles. This shut it up... temorarily. Over the next several nights Dirk would become increasingly bold until the last night I heard him he flat out ignored all my attacks on the barriers of my room and wouldnt let me sleep at all. He also is using the tunnels of his previous resident, Otis, according to the insulation I see lying outside one of Otis's old holes. All I know is come Monday, some traps are about to be purchased...of the fatal variety... and yet another vermin is about to get a reality check.
Of course all 'cards' of any type are worthless but this one, while not particulary bold or funny caught my eye. Especially since it was one of my 'relatives (you know, the people who you cant help being related to after birth).'
"No day quite like Christmas..." -True
"no family quite like ours..." -Sad, but true. I was confused by the whole family part but I read on anyhow.
"no memories quite like the ones a grandson makes" - Also sad but almost still funny because I never had an x-mas memories with this relative... ever, plus I didn't have many memories at all this last Christmas day.
Hallmark...
Everyone always says it's the thought that counts; Alright, well then seriously how much thought does it take to get some premade bullshit card which means nothing and doesn't apply to you at all from a store - usually Hallmark? Not much in my book. Why not just send me a fucking e-mail that says 'I thought of a tree too,' and save some fucking paper. Fuck Hallmark, it's just another reason our society is going to a state of anomie. If I ever saw someone turn over a card to check if it was from Hallmark I'd seriously consider reverse-heel-kicking them in the face.
Customer 'Service'
Okay so...the customer is always right, supposedly. So then why do cashiers give you your change AND your cash in the same hand. It's a huge pain in the ass to deal with and just hinders the line when the customer has to stop, take the change in his/her other hand and then deal with the cash seperately. This not only hinders the entire flow of a line but inconveniences the customer, someone who is supposedly always right and should be catered to.
New Blinds
So the other day I got frustrated at not being able to see my monitor in true form because of the window in back of my desk which in a dimly lit basement causes severe backlight. Originally I tried to remedy this with a beach-towel which I taped to the top of the window-frame, but repeatedly fell off despite how much 'gorilla tape' I put on it. After I woke up on the third morning I'd been trying to block the window I decided to change my plan of action. I figured some thin sheet might be better but after failing to find such a garment I started looking for alternative means. No sooner did I walk in my kitchen when I saw the massive pile of Totino's and Milwaukee's Best Light boxes did I realize the solution to my problem...So I cut up about 10 Totino's boxes and a case of Beast and constructed the most glorious blinds possible. Totino, gorilla tape and most importantly Beast light right in the middle. The only thing better than the blinds themselves will probably be Chuck McGovern's reaction when he sees them.
Dirk Nowitzki
That's the name I've given to Otis Mousequivitz's successor; the mouse who has kept me up the past several nights chewing on something in my ceiling or wall. I felt the name Dirk Nowitzki was appropriate given the fact that I'm going to take pleasure when I eventually feel joy in killing this piece of shit vermin. I had originally thought about eminem but I figured Id go with the original germanic name scheme that had started with Otis himself.
For a little backstory a few years ago when the basement was in it's prime... we had an invader as it would seem. An uninvited mouse who was seemingly uncatchable. Only after buying several mousetraps did the reality surface that it wasn't only Otis, it was his whole crew of mice. I think it's also important to mention here that this is where I developed one of my ultra-sensory perceptions.... mouse sense; the ability to sense any mouse within a certain radius. Needless to say thanks to the traps and my senses basement was rid of vermin fairly quickly...until now.
When I first heard him I was playing Burnout Paradise, no doubt being mad at the awful changes Criterion games made to one of my favorite racing games. Then I heard scampering above the ceiling tiles. It sounded loud at first, so I wasn't sure it was a mouse; but then I got my Louisville slugger and started running around following the sound slamming the ceiling tiles, in hope of injuring the rodent or at least knocking it down to the floor. Obviously ...that didn't happen. It went into stealth-mode or ran off and I eventually gave up and went back to PS-3. The next night I was awoken by a quaint sound of gnawing wood. I couldn't hear exactly where it was coming from exactly over the fan blowing on my face but I knew it was in my general vicinity and I knew I couldn't get back to sleep with that sound. So I got up and slapped the walls and bashed a bunch of ceiling tiles. This shut it up... temorarily. Over the next several nights Dirk would become increasingly bold until the last night I heard him he flat out ignored all my attacks on the barriers of my room and wouldnt let me sleep at all. He also is using the tunnels of his previous resident, Otis, according to the insulation I see lying outside one of Otis's old holes. All I know is come Monday, some traps are about to be purchased...of the fatal variety... and yet another vermin is about to get a reality check.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Bad Hair Day
I'd like to give some friendly advice as a foreword before I write the rest of this. Apparently... two Hebrew National Hotdogs, a bunch of Fritos Scoopes and 18 Beast lights as a sole meal doesn't sit well after 12 hours of nothing else but beer.. I guess these are the kind of things you have to learn through experience. Anyhow, next time I suppose I'll consume something else before I get above sweet 16 and end up wasting 2 beers through regurgitation. I'm only warning people so they dont waste alchohol, by the way.
So lately I've been going back and forth about shaving my head. It'd just be easier and Ive thought.. well why not? The sober, procrastinating version of myself has hindered this goal however so the other night when I was in my best and normal state of mind I decided make sure my haircut happened. Basically out of nowhere, I blasted a bunch of techno/dance music and went to my bathroom. I got my hair-clippers out and without literally any hesitation took a huge swipe down the center of my head, inverse mohawk style. I proceeded to do the same thing once again, then afterward I made a square on the left side of my head and just basically took a bunch of random hair off on the right side. At the time my justification for this was 'this will make sure I finish it tomorrow.'
So the next morning I wake up to take a piss, then look in the mirror by accident and start laughing my ass off. I initially thought about shaving it off then out of how horrid it looks but then I figure, "I'll do it later, when I get wasted." So start getting ready to go to the gas station to get more beer since my case basically gone, I open my backdoor to see how cold it is outside - what my beer run attire will be today... And randomly who is standing right outside my backdoor but Chuck McGovern (Who is almost never, ever anywhere but his room upstairs let alone the backyard, right outside my door; it was definately bad timing, since I was going to see how long I could keep my hairstyle without him noticing). At first he looks at me startled, then double-takes and stares at my head, obviously. Then says 'What happened to your head.' I kind of panic, totally tired, hungover and not ready for this confrontation and say something stupid 'I started cutting my hair and I didn't finish.' That's a Jarred Douglas excuse if I ever heard one.
Chuck: It looks like someone else did it (No doubt, assuming I passed out and someone did this to me.)
Me: Nope it was me.
Chuck: (doesnt say anything and looks around puzzled- thinking of what to say no doubt)
Me: (Stare at him with an akward look, he had to have been trying not to laugh)
Chuck: Oh I bet you probably got drunk or something and thought it was funny...(which is true)
Me: Shut the door in his face.
. . . . .
After I get back from the gas station getting beer....
Chuck: So you didnt finish your haircut yet.
Me: Nope.
Chuck: When are you going to finish it?
Me: Now that you mention it, I think I'm going to keep it like this... for a while.
Chuck: You're going to cut it; you're not going down to Florida like that.
Me: No. I'm not.
Chuck: You're cutting it.
Me: ...Nope (slams door - told).
Needless to say...my hairstyle is still exactly the same.
So lately I've been going back and forth about shaving my head. It'd just be easier and Ive thought.. well why not? The sober, procrastinating version of myself has hindered this goal however so the other night when I was in my best and normal state of mind I decided make sure my haircut happened. Basically out of nowhere, I blasted a bunch of techno/dance music and went to my bathroom. I got my hair-clippers out and without literally any hesitation took a huge swipe down the center of my head, inverse mohawk style. I proceeded to do the same thing once again, then afterward I made a square on the left side of my head and just basically took a bunch of random hair off on the right side. At the time my justification for this was 'this will make sure I finish it tomorrow.'
So the next morning I wake up to take a piss, then look in the mirror by accident and start laughing my ass off. I initially thought about shaving it off then out of how horrid it looks but then I figure, "I'll do it later, when I get wasted." So start getting ready to go to the gas station to get more beer since my case basically gone, I open my backdoor to see how cold it is outside - what my beer run attire will be today... And randomly who is standing right outside my backdoor but Chuck McGovern (Who is almost never, ever anywhere but his room upstairs let alone the backyard, right outside my door; it was definately bad timing, since I was going to see how long I could keep my hairstyle without him noticing). At first he looks at me startled, then double-takes and stares at my head, obviously. Then says 'What happened to your head.' I kind of panic, totally tired, hungover and not ready for this confrontation and say something stupid 'I started cutting my hair and I didn't finish.' That's a Jarred Douglas excuse if I ever heard one.
Chuck: It looks like someone else did it (No doubt, assuming I passed out and someone did this to me.)
Me: Nope it was me.
Chuck: (doesnt say anything and looks around puzzled- thinking of what to say no doubt)
Me: (Stare at him with an akward look, he had to have been trying not to laugh)
Chuck: Oh I bet you probably got drunk or something and thought it was funny...(which is true)
Me: Shut the door in his face.
. . . . .
After I get back from the gas station getting beer....
Chuck: So you didnt finish your haircut yet.
Me: Nope.
Chuck: When are you going to finish it?
Me: Now that you mention it, I think I'm going to keep it like this... for a while.
Chuck: You're going to cut it; you're not going down to Florida like that.
Me: No. I'm not.
Chuck: You're cutting it.
Me: ...Nope (slams door - told).
Needless to say...my hairstyle is still exactly the same.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Raleigh Roundtrip...
Fuck America.
The Backstory: After getting a drinking ticket (open alchohol container - although not really because had I killed the supposed open beer and it was empty, I was just holding an UNopened one in my other hand, you know trying to not to litter... saving the world) in the faggot ass city of Raleigh, I had to show up for court on 12/16, just show up, not pay a fine or anything. Essentially making me just show up for the purpose of showing up, which sucked. Who the FUCK gives a red M&M a ticket anyway...
Before the date I had dreaded thinking about it so I usually avoided doing-so as much as possible unless I was drunk, which actually is kind of ironic. My original plan was to go up and stay with E-walk, then go to court the next day; however, after I woke up on Monday feeling like shit after drinking a massive amount for the Vikings DOMINANT victory celebration I decided to hold off on that. Instead I ended up getting wasted again on the brink of my alchohol related court date and bet on my alarm clock, something which has both served and screwed me before.
Unluckily I woke up even earlier than the 7:30 and 8:30 alarms I had set for myself the next morning; since my body apparently isn't used to over 6 hours of sleep lately, I guess my BAC wasn't high enough for the normal 12.
After leaving at 9:40 and stopping along the way to chug a Code Red to keep my eyes open I ended up there at 12:40ish. Which wasn't bad time considering everything. After checking in in court I was informed that if I had no prior convictions that I qualified for some program to get me out of this. I told him I had none; although I was unsure of that at the time... anyhow I was cleared and then this ultra friendly guy came to get me about 20 minutes later and explained to me how I could get out of this without it on my record.
So he takes me up to his office, explaining to me the scenario involved. 15 hours of classes, since I'm outside his program jurisdiction that means 15 AA hours. Which should be...well, entertaining at the very least Im hoping. Then the paperwork starts. Of course he tells me this is all confidential, but if it was, what's the point in writing it down and keeping track to begin with, is he doing a survey or what? So I obviously lied.
Guy named Smith: Okay this stuff is probably unnecessary but have you ever done any drugs?
No. - Lie
Smith: How often do you drink?
Weekly - Lie, sort of...
Smith: When is the last time you drank?
Actually, last night. - True
Smith: How many did you drink?
I had a 12 pack - Lie
Smith: Wow your tolerance is high, you need to stop or cut down.
Yeah I've been trying to cut down lately actually. - Lie
Since I don't live in the appropriate county my 'sentence' to get this off my record is 15 hours of AA meetings, which I can attend at my discretion, in the next 6 months. If that weren't a joke enough in itself I have to write a paragraph statement everytime I attend one of them. Obviously the paragraphs will contain total bullshit about what I experienced in the meeting; or perhaps what I supposedly learned. The best part is that if I were being honest, the paragraph about the class would be about the same thing every week and say as soon as this class is over I'm going to buy beer and get wasted; am I still anonymous now you dumb fuck?
Another semi-interesting thing happened after that. When I went to the judge after this Smith guy got me all set she asked me a few questions, on of them being the question that seemingly everyone always asks... Yes, 'Do you have a job?' Obviously I replied no. And she sternly replied', Get one.' At first I kind of laughed to myself but after a while I realized what the fuck. I was just in court on an alchohol related charge, and she wants me to get a job to do what? Waste my time so I can buy larger quanities of alchohol easier?
Im sure theres some other bullshit that happened that I'm forgetting since it's late as shit and Im drunk as hell but I figured I'd appease the faggot who not only inspired but bitched about this shit forever. Hopefully this is what it's supposed to be since I have no fucking clue, son. First of many drunken ramblings I'm sure.
Reality Check
513
The Backstory: After getting a drinking ticket (open alchohol container - although not really because had I killed the supposed open beer and it was empty, I was just holding an UNopened one in my other hand, you know trying to not to litter... saving the world) in the faggot ass city of Raleigh, I had to show up for court on 12/16, just show up, not pay a fine or anything. Essentially making me just show up for the purpose of showing up, which sucked. Who the FUCK gives a red M&M a ticket anyway...
Before the date I had dreaded thinking about it so I usually avoided doing-so as much as possible unless I was drunk, which actually is kind of ironic. My original plan was to go up and stay with E-walk, then go to court the next day; however, after I woke up on Monday feeling like shit after drinking a massive amount for the Vikings DOMINANT victory celebration I decided to hold off on that. Instead I ended up getting wasted again on the brink of my alchohol related court date and bet on my alarm clock, something which has both served and screwed me before.
Unluckily I woke up even earlier than the 7:30 and 8:30 alarms I had set for myself the next morning; since my body apparently isn't used to over 6 hours of sleep lately, I guess my BAC wasn't high enough for the normal 12.
After leaving at 9:40 and stopping along the way to chug a Code Red to keep my eyes open I ended up there at 12:40ish. Which wasn't bad time considering everything. After checking in in court I was informed that if I had no prior convictions that I qualified for some program to get me out of this. I told him I had none; although I was unsure of that at the time... anyhow I was cleared and then this ultra friendly guy came to get me about 20 minutes later and explained to me how I could get out of this without it on my record.
So he takes me up to his office, explaining to me the scenario involved. 15 hours of classes, since I'm outside his program jurisdiction that means 15 AA hours. Which should be...well, entertaining at the very least Im hoping. Then the paperwork starts. Of course he tells me this is all confidential, but if it was, what's the point in writing it down and keeping track to begin with, is he doing a survey or what? So I obviously lied.
Guy named Smith: Okay this stuff is probably unnecessary but have you ever done any drugs?
No. - Lie
Smith: How often do you drink?
Weekly - Lie, sort of...
Smith: When is the last time you drank?
Actually, last night. - True
Smith: How many did you drink?
I had a 12 pack - Lie
Smith: Wow your tolerance is high, you need to stop or cut down.
Yeah I've been trying to cut down lately actually. - Lie
Since I don't live in the appropriate county my 'sentence' to get this off my record is 15 hours of AA meetings, which I can attend at my discretion, in the next 6 months. If that weren't a joke enough in itself I have to write a paragraph statement everytime I attend one of them. Obviously the paragraphs will contain total bullshit about what I experienced in the meeting; or perhaps what I supposedly learned. The best part is that if I were being honest, the paragraph about the class would be about the same thing every week and say as soon as this class is over I'm going to buy beer and get wasted; am I still anonymous now you dumb fuck?
Another semi-interesting thing happened after that. When I went to the judge after this Smith guy got me all set she asked me a few questions, on of them being the question that seemingly everyone always asks... Yes, 'Do you have a job?' Obviously I replied no. And she sternly replied', Get one.' At first I kind of laughed to myself but after a while I realized what the fuck. I was just in court on an alchohol related charge, and she wants me to get a job to do what? Waste my time so I can buy larger quanities of alchohol easier?
Im sure theres some other bullshit that happened that I'm forgetting since it's late as shit and Im drunk as hell but I figured I'd appease the faggot who not only inspired but bitched about this shit forever. Hopefully this is what it's supposed to be since I have no fucking clue, son. First of many drunken ramblings I'm sure.
Reality Check
513
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