I got the new Chuck Palahniuk book today.
I already finished reading it.
Good stuff.
Saturday, August 30, 2003
Thursday, August 28, 2003
We live in a sad, sad world when Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliot wins a music award over Johnny Cash.
It's an even worse world when we humans, the "superior" mammals, can't outdo our little animal-friend counterparts. Today, it's ok to divorce for looks, money, boredom, lack of gratification in any way shape or form. Somehow every married couple has been given a minor lobotomy to remove the memory of those simple, simple words, "Till death do us part." Now, someone doesn't pick up their dirty laundry and the other spouse is saying, "Wait...what was it? Till unhappy do us part? Or was it till fed up do us part? OH, I got it! Till I'm unable to handle petty problems and therefore must divorce my spouse as a pathetic problem solving method!"
Do you guys realize how many animals have one partner their entire lives? ONE partner. A penguin will pick a mate and be faithful to that mate their entire existence. An octopus only has one go at it, because the female dies after giving birth...therefore...one mate. A whale has no problem with fidelity when it comes to his or her little whale mate. But here we are...the superior race...and we can't even do something that simple, unintelligent, lowly animals have no problem with.
It's an even worse world when we humans, the "superior" mammals, can't outdo our little animal-friend counterparts. Today, it's ok to divorce for looks, money, boredom, lack of gratification in any way shape or form. Somehow every married couple has been given a minor lobotomy to remove the memory of those simple, simple words, "Till death do us part." Now, someone doesn't pick up their dirty laundry and the other spouse is saying, "Wait...what was it? Till unhappy do us part? Or was it till fed up do us part? OH, I got it! Till I'm unable to handle petty problems and therefore must divorce my spouse as a pathetic problem solving method!"
Do you guys realize how many animals have one partner their entire lives? ONE partner. A penguin will pick a mate and be faithful to that mate their entire existence. An octopus only has one go at it, because the female dies after giving birth...therefore...one mate. A whale has no problem with fidelity when it comes to his or her little whale mate. But here we are...the superior race...and we can't even do something that simple, unintelligent, lowly animals have no problem with.
Sunday, August 24, 2003
In 8th grade I had this teacher...more of a friend really. This man, Bill Woods, has been through more near-death experiences than anyone I have ever met. It's not that he looked for situations which would cause him harm, but these situations just found him. I would always beg him to tell me one of his stories, and if he was in the mood to re-live a more than frightening part of his life, he would agree.
I had already heard the one where he got hit in the temple with a crowbar. The one where he didn't even get a bruise.
Everyone knew the 7 switchblade stories. The ones where the blades just didn't open.
He had even told me the gang-fight story.
But one story he told me stuck out. His phone rang in the middle of the night. It was his good friend, who's husband had some temperament problems. She needed his help, quickly. So at 2:00am he got on some clothes and drove over to his friend's house. He walked in to find the house a mess. Lamps broken, holes in the wall, cushions ripped to shreds, and his friend scared senseless. "He's in the bedroom" she said, shaking slightly. Bill started walking towards the bedroom. "Wait" she started, "he has a gun." Defenseless, Bill walked up to the bedroom. The lights were off, and door was cracked open, and the husband was nowhere in sight. He walked into the room and called the man's name. Suddenly he felt cold metal to his temple. He slowly turned to see the husband holding a handgun to his head. This perturbed Bill, so he started ranting at the husband. "It's 2 in the morning. I am dead tired. And here you are, with a gun in your hand, acting like you are going to kill me. Besides the fact that you have scared your wife nearly to death." *CLICK* The man had pulled the trigger with the gun to Bill's head, but nothing happened. "SEE!" Bill nearly yelled, "You can't even use a gun right...give it to me...now." The man handed Bill the gun right as the cops showed up. They took him away, handcuffed. Of course, Bill had to see, so he looked down the side of the gun...it was fully loaded. He took the gun to a friend of his who owned a gun store with a firing range. He walked into the range, aimed the gun at a target down the aisle and squeezed off 6 shots, including the shell that didn't fire into his temple.
This doesn't happen by the way. A shell that doesn't fire the first time is usually defective and will never fire. That, or it will explode instead of firing.
There was one common point to every one of Bill's stories. There was one thing that saved his life and left him with countless scars that could have been the end of his life. There was one reason that he never once feared for his life. That one thing was his belief in God.
Every time he had a switchblade to his throat, he prayed. He had guys with knives struggling to cut his throat...arms shaking with physical exertion....and they gave up, backing off, looking down at their arm, obviously wondering what went wrong, and then running away afraid. He had belief in God...nothing else. He was an average guy who ended up in situation after situation that proved that God existed...because there was no other explanation as to why he was not dead.
And people ask me why I believe in God.
I had already heard the one where he got hit in the temple with a crowbar. The one where he didn't even get a bruise.
Everyone knew the 7 switchblade stories. The ones where the blades just didn't open.
He had even told me the gang-fight story.
But one story he told me stuck out. His phone rang in the middle of the night. It was his good friend, who's husband had some temperament problems. She needed his help, quickly. So at 2:00am he got on some clothes and drove over to his friend's house. He walked in to find the house a mess. Lamps broken, holes in the wall, cushions ripped to shreds, and his friend scared senseless. "He's in the bedroom" she said, shaking slightly. Bill started walking towards the bedroom. "Wait" she started, "he has a gun." Defenseless, Bill walked up to the bedroom. The lights were off, and door was cracked open, and the husband was nowhere in sight. He walked into the room and called the man's name. Suddenly he felt cold metal to his temple. He slowly turned to see the husband holding a handgun to his head. This perturbed Bill, so he started ranting at the husband. "It's 2 in the morning. I am dead tired. And here you are, with a gun in your hand, acting like you are going to kill me. Besides the fact that you have scared your wife nearly to death." *CLICK* The man had pulled the trigger with the gun to Bill's head, but nothing happened. "SEE!" Bill nearly yelled, "You can't even use a gun right...give it to me...now." The man handed Bill the gun right as the cops showed up. They took him away, handcuffed. Of course, Bill had to see, so he looked down the side of the gun...it was fully loaded. He took the gun to a friend of his who owned a gun store with a firing range. He walked into the range, aimed the gun at a target down the aisle and squeezed off 6 shots, including the shell that didn't fire into his temple.
This doesn't happen by the way. A shell that doesn't fire the first time is usually defective and will never fire. That, or it will explode instead of firing.
There was one common point to every one of Bill's stories. There was one thing that saved his life and left him with countless scars that could have been the end of his life. There was one reason that he never once feared for his life. That one thing was his belief in God.
Every time he had a switchblade to his throat, he prayed. He had guys with knives struggling to cut his throat...arms shaking with physical exertion....and they gave up, backing off, looking down at their arm, obviously wondering what went wrong, and then running away afraid. He had belief in God...nothing else. He was an average guy who ended up in situation after situation that proved that God existed...because there was no other explanation as to why he was not dead.
And people ask me why I believe in God.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
I felt like I had to update. It's 10:06 and my motor skills are not at the top of their game. In fact...I'm going to name my motor skills. They will be named Florentino. Florentino decided that he was going to stay up really late multiple nights in a row and then get up really early a couple mornings in a row. Then do it all over again. This made Florentino tired, and now he isn't very good at typing, or shaving, or taking out contact lenses, or taking antibiotics so Grant's penis doesn't hurt. Florentino is a bad bad boy. I would punish him, but...well...I'm too tired.
I've been going to this weeklong workshop for highschool kids to teach them about cameras and editing and cinematography and stuff and some more stuff and even more stuff. I forgot how not cool most high school kids are. Not that I'm cool, so I should fit right in with them. Most of them want to impress me because they think I'm the cool college kid (little do they know) Plus I'm having to fend off some 17 year old high school girl.....and seriously.....I'm down to one fortune cookie. And my car has five empty Frappachino bottles in it. And I have COMPLETELY lost my ability to juggle pins.
OH, and I saw the movie Spun tonight. Really good. Only there was lots of blurring and bleeping, which was odd, and I'm tired.
Goodnight
Goodnigh
Goodnig
Goodni
Goodn
Good
Goo
Go
.
I've been going to this weeklong workshop for highschool kids to teach them about cameras and editing and cinematography and stuff and some more stuff and even more stuff. I forgot how not cool most high school kids are. Not that I'm cool, so I should fit right in with them. Most of them want to impress me because they think I'm the cool college kid (little do they know) Plus I'm having to fend off some 17 year old high school girl.....and seriously.....I'm down to one fortune cookie. And my car has five empty Frappachino bottles in it. And I have COMPLETELY lost my ability to juggle pins.
OH, and I saw the movie Spun tonight. Really good. Only there was lots of blurring and bleeping, which was odd, and I'm tired.
Goodnight
Goodnigh
Goodnig
Goodni
Goodn
Good
Goo
Go
.
Friday, August 15, 2003
ok ok ok....so I kinda sorta maybe stole the color thing from Christina's latest page revamping. But in my defense...I've like the colors red and black together for MUCH longer than Christina's new page has been up. So ha!
Plus hers is a very different color of red.
Enjoy.
Plus hers is a very different color of red.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
I was handed a plastic bag and a folded garment. I was told to strip down naked, put my clothes in the bag, and put on the garment and the socks.
This is after months of antibiotics.
This is after a doctor's finger up my butt.
This is after unexplainable pain every time I peed for who knows how long.
This is after the blood test.
This is after getting up at 5:00am.
I put on the gown and laughed to myself because it's true...they really don't close in the back. If you do not hold the back flap closed, you will be mooning everyone behind you. The nurse said that my eyebrow piercing could cause a severe burn because of the cauterizing equipment...but I couldn't take it out...so I got to play dress-up and look like Nelly with a bandaid over my eyebrow. I laid down on the bed and took some deep breaths as the nurse got the IV ready. Now in case you don't remember....I don't do so well with needles. She slipped the IV into a vein and I breathed as deep as I could so as not to pass out before I could even get the anesthesia. You see...the needles I fear aren't SO bad because they are in and out. But this time I got to have a big tube in my arm for half an hour! FUN!
I was soon wheeled out of the prep room. You know that shot from every movie that has a hospital scene? That one from the patient’s perspective where you see the doctors and nurses rushing down the hall and the bright lights and the IV thingy rolling with you and doors being smacked open by your own feet? Well I got to experience that. I almost wanted to tell the doctors of my weird deja vu experience...only I didn't really have the experience before...it was just a movie.
I was pushed into a room with the air-conditioning set to Antarctica and classical music blaring. I had to slide onto a new bed and then shook hands with the anesthesiologist. He asked me where I went to school....I told him Chapman. He asked me what my major was....I told him film production. He told me he knew someone who was at Chapman for journalism as he started squeezing in the anesthetics....I responded with, "Yeah, I heard that Chapman is really....good for..............."
A tube was inserted into my urethra. The end of this tube has a small camera on it so see what the problem is. Another tube with a balloon on the end is then stuck in. This balloon is inflated to dilate the urethra to break up any blockage. I was told that the opening in my urethra was down to a needlepoint, and had I waited too much longer...that opening could have closed leaving the doctors no choice but to cut into me to open the blockage. Weee.
I then woke up and tried talking, but found it more than difficult. My dad mentioned that it would have been funny to have the camera. I responded with, "Yeah, it would be a good remembery. Wait...is remembery a word?" The doctor told me I had to pee before I could leave, so I went into the bathroom and lifted my gown. "Hey," I thought to myself, "there's blood on my penis and thigh!" Then I peed foamy blood.
I was given some painkillers which turn my urine Tang orange and threaten to turn my soft contacts orange too, and some antibiotics. And now I can pee without nearly crying. Hooray for minor surgery!
This is after months of antibiotics.
This is after a doctor's finger up my butt.
This is after unexplainable pain every time I peed for who knows how long.
This is after the blood test.
This is after getting up at 5:00am.
I put on the gown and laughed to myself because it's true...they really don't close in the back. If you do not hold the back flap closed, you will be mooning everyone behind you. The nurse said that my eyebrow piercing could cause a severe burn because of the cauterizing equipment...but I couldn't take it out...so I got to play dress-up and look like Nelly with a bandaid over my eyebrow. I laid down on the bed and took some deep breaths as the nurse got the IV ready. Now in case you don't remember....I don't do so well with needles. She slipped the IV into a vein and I breathed as deep as I could so as not to pass out before I could even get the anesthesia. You see...the needles I fear aren't SO bad because they are in and out. But this time I got to have a big tube in my arm for half an hour! FUN!
I was soon wheeled out of the prep room. You know that shot from every movie that has a hospital scene? That one from the patient’s perspective where you see the doctors and nurses rushing down the hall and the bright lights and the IV thingy rolling with you and doors being smacked open by your own feet? Well I got to experience that. I almost wanted to tell the doctors of my weird deja vu experience...only I didn't really have the experience before...it was just a movie.
I was pushed into a room with the air-conditioning set to Antarctica and classical music blaring. I had to slide onto a new bed and then shook hands with the anesthesiologist. He asked me where I went to school....I told him Chapman. He asked me what my major was....I told him film production. He told me he knew someone who was at Chapman for journalism as he started squeezing in the anesthetics....I responded with, "Yeah, I heard that Chapman is really....good for..............."
A tube was inserted into my urethra. The end of this tube has a small camera on it so see what the problem is. Another tube with a balloon on the end is then stuck in. This balloon is inflated to dilate the urethra to break up any blockage. I was told that the opening in my urethra was down to a needlepoint, and had I waited too much longer...that opening could have closed leaving the doctors no choice but to cut into me to open the blockage. Weee.
I then woke up and tried talking, but found it more than difficult. My dad mentioned that it would have been funny to have the camera. I responded with, "Yeah, it would be a good remembery. Wait...is remembery a word?" The doctor told me I had to pee before I could leave, so I went into the bathroom and lifted my gown. "Hey," I thought to myself, "there's blood on my penis and thigh!" Then I peed foamy blood.
I was given some painkillers which turn my urine Tang orange and threaten to turn my soft contacts orange too, and some antibiotics. And now I can pee without nearly crying. Hooray for minor surgery!
Monday, August 11, 2003
EMERGENCY POST!!!
No really....I was asked to write something on a certain topic...one which I could not refuse writing on.....
hickies
Truth be told, I don't have much experience in the way of the ever-so-trendy (or are they not trendy anymore?) hickies. I wanted to see if I could find any interesting information about hickies, but the most I could get was this:
1- A device or contrivance; a gadget.
2- A reddish mark on the skin caused by amorous kissing, biting, or sucking.
3- A pipe-bending apparatus.
4- A threaded electrical fitting used to connect a fixture to an outlet box.
My best guess is that I was asked to talk about number 3, since pipe-bending apparati are all the rage...but instead, I'll talk about number 2. Funny, in the heat of the moment, hickies don't seem like such a bad idea. In fact, they seem almost fun. But after the fact...well...type in "hickies" in google and you will find nearly a hundred personal questions sounding like: "How do I get rid of a hickey FAST?!?!" I don't know about you, but anything I give to someone which is immediately not wanted anymore, isn't a good thing to give.
(These are all true situations...I swear...really)
Scenario 1
-friend gives girlfriend hickey
-girlfriend's friends find out about hickey
-girlfriend's friends bring up hickey in public setting
-much embarrassment is to be had
Scenario 2
-friend gets hickey on his neck
-friend wears a turtleneck to cover it up
-friend is called gay
-much embarrassment is to be had
Scenario 3
-friend gets hickey on back...where nobody will notice
-friend is immediately invited to swim party
-much embarrassment is to be had
I don't you about you...but anytime blood vessels are broken in the pursuit of pleasure, I get a little afraid. But to anyone out there who has been known to have a hickey or two every once in a while....*cough*ChristinaEd*cough*....I've heard that whitening toothpaste will help to get rid of it a little. That or a cold spoon, or a blow dryer, or anything to disperse the coagulating blood. YAY COAGULATING BLOOD!
Sorry, I don't really have any fun embarrassing stories about me and hickies...but I WILL have a great embarrassing story when I get back from surgery. YAY SURGERY!
No really....I was asked to write something on a certain topic...one which I could not refuse writing on.....
hickies
Truth be told, I don't have much experience in the way of the ever-so-trendy (or are they not trendy anymore?) hickies. I wanted to see if I could find any interesting information about hickies, but the most I could get was this:
1- A device or contrivance; a gadget.
2- A reddish mark on the skin caused by amorous kissing, biting, or sucking.
3- A pipe-bending apparatus.
4- A threaded electrical fitting used to connect a fixture to an outlet box.
My best guess is that I was asked to talk about number 3, since pipe-bending apparati are all the rage...but instead, I'll talk about number 2. Funny, in the heat of the moment, hickies don't seem like such a bad idea. In fact, they seem almost fun. But after the fact...well...type in "hickies" in google and you will find nearly a hundred personal questions sounding like: "How do I get rid of a hickey FAST?!?!" I don't know about you, but anything I give to someone which is immediately not wanted anymore, isn't a good thing to give.
(These are all true situations...I swear...really)
Scenario 1
-friend gives girlfriend hickey
-girlfriend's friends find out about hickey
-girlfriend's friends bring up hickey in public setting
-much embarrassment is to be had
Scenario 2
-friend gets hickey on his neck
-friend wears a turtleneck to cover it up
-friend is called gay
-much embarrassment is to be had
Scenario 3
-friend gets hickey on back...where nobody will notice
-friend is immediately invited to swim party
-much embarrassment is to be had
I don't you about you...but anytime blood vessels are broken in the pursuit of pleasure, I get a little afraid. But to anyone out there who has been known to have a hickey or two every once in a while....*cough*ChristinaEd*cough*....I've heard that whitening toothpaste will help to get rid of it a little. That or a cold spoon, or a blow dryer, or anything to disperse the coagulating blood. YAY COAGULATING BLOOD!
Sorry, I don't really have any fun embarrassing stories about me and hickies...but I WILL have a great embarrassing story when I get back from surgery. YAY SURGERY!
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Our world is so completely dense that even MTV artists go right over our heads. Everyone saw Jewel's new video, "Intuition", and got really confused. People are saying things like, "Well...um...like...Jewel now looks like, um like Brittany Spears and like, well, if Brittany Spears wrote poetry it would like not work as well, so um, like maybe Jewel shouldn't like be like her." If you have SEEN the video, it is obviously mocking all the stars like Brittany. With lines like, "Sell your skin, just give in." Now I'm not really a Jewel fan...but I'm all for artists rejecting the idea of idealizing the world and flaunting the rich lifestyle. People have somehow forgotten that one of the most important points of rock/pop music is the lyrics, and glazed over staring at the pretty pictures.....which in return just proves the point Jewel is trying to make.
Then, right after, Jessica Simpson comes on singing "Original Sin" trying to make it seem like she hadn't had sex until she got married to her man with a rage problem. Right...like we're going to believe that. Go back to having sex and stop adding horrendously bad music to the pile of crap that is already out there.
Then, right after, Jessica Simpson comes on singing "Original Sin" trying to make it seem like she hadn't had sex until she got married to her man with a rage problem. Right...like we're going to believe that. Go back to having sex and stop adding horrendously bad music to the pile of crap that is already out there.
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