I don't have much to say. I'm really busy. Working on an act to take to Knuckleheads at some point for an Open Mic. I'm going to start performing it at the Steaknife near campus soon (maybe next week) to hone it a bit before I take it to a real club. I figure it'll be a while before I can do comedy regularly again. Work sucks. Tuesdays and Thursdays I work in the cafeteria that serves the UofM football team's dinner. THat's fun, let me tell you. Some of the most inarticulate motherfuckers you will ever meet.

"Yea, um, gimme some of that, and that, with som'a that"
The best part, is they don't even point. They just kinda nod their head in the general direction of the food they want. I'm behind a sneezeguard from them, steam all in my eyes and shit, and I'm supposed to know whether they're nodding to the chicken fried steak or the pasta? No, I'm afraid I can't do it.

Then on MWF, I work in the basement of the Med School on campus. Talk about polar fucking opposites. The best part, is at this job there's a menu. If you've never worked food service, I'd suggest it, for at least a week. Just to watch people read the menu. It's got to be the dumbest face anyone ever makes, consciously or not. Whew, does anyone know what I'm talking about? Because, if not, I need to flesh this idea out. It's like cubist art, just fucking beautiful. That, and really, really ugly. I want to smuggle a camera to work to take pictures of people reading the menu.

I need to sleep, got lots of class tomorrow and lots of work to do that I haven't done yet.

Alright. First thing's first, what did I tell you fucktards? Scroll down and shit, I'm not gonna type it again. Although, since the person's nick was actually fucktard, there's a meta-cognition aspect of the whole thing that I'm not even prepared to evaluate. Whoa, that was deep. Warning, overuse of parentheses ahead. Only because I learned how to spell it, so I could give aforementioned warning.

I apologize for not updating the huge ganja rant I have planned. Well, no, I don't. Wait. How about I apologize without any real sincerity. Sorry about the complete lack of updates.

Moving right along. I haven't been updating for a few reasons. I got back to Minneapolis on the *cough* of August, and I've been getting 'reaquainted' with 'friends.' Don't read too deeply into the use of single quotes there, even I don't really know what it means. Also, I've got so many videogames now (I'm about to play warcraft, which is why I'm not going to expound on my potrant right now (can we call it a prant?(there should be a word for word sandwiches that form altogether new words(wordrritos anyone?)))) and I got xbox live. Playing games from my TV with idiots all over the fucking world. I do have to say that nothing tickles me more than hearing an extremely thick southern accent (there's a headset dealymabob, which is both a blessing and a curse. How could it be a curse, asshole? You tell us this now, but do you give any real evidence? How about this! I think that link accurately describes the majority of conversations you'll have.) Anyway, why does the accent tickle me? I couldn't really say, except that it's not unlike a prostate tickle. Nonetheless, it's still fun.

Oh yeah, and the sign up process for Xbox live is pretty scary. I mean, the name boxes I can handle, but what do you need my Social Security # for? My cup size? It wasn't even tits, it was just what size of cup you usually drink water from, if you have a standard water drinking designated recepticle. That was the fine print on that question. It was a bit invasive, I must say. Oh well, Go Microsoft. You'll take over the world with EULA's one of these fucking days.

"You can't do this Bill, you're a fucking psycho."
"Bullshit, did you even read the EULA for Windows: Diablo Edition? It's all there."
"You crazy fuck, what are you? A mormon? You can't have your hands in this many jars at one time. What's this I hear about a microsoft theme park?"
"It hasn't been greenlighted yet, it's much more of a green-light situation than it is a green-light right now. Ah, here it is: Paragraph 283, Line 372, "By clicking, "I agree" you forfeit all rights to your everlasting soul. It is now property of Microsoft, Inc."
"How many you got, anyway?"
"In a few years, the Immaculate Soul Comission will have to give us funding, because we'll have the required 5%. This third party shit is harder than it looks. We're still way behind heaven and hell, but they've been at it for fucking years, and we have quite a bit of catching up to do."
"Was that a reference to the green party trying to get 5% with Nader in 2000? Because I think it's unclear."
"Yeah, it was supposed to be, but the guy writing my dialogue is completely unable to articulate the concept humorously right now."
"Oh, that sucks. He just has me pointing out the obvious. Fuck, I did it again."

Let's put that dialogue out of it's misery. Oh, speaking of dialogue. Went to dinner at Figlios, which I could talk about more, but won't. At the restaurant I heard a pretty funny conversation, which I will now reproduce word for word. FUCK! I can't fucking remember it. Hopefully one of the people I was with will. Because it was fucking funny. God dammit, I hate my life. THat wasn't the actual conversation, just me sitting here trying to remember how it starts and not being able to.

Classes start tomorrow. I'm taking 19 credits, and I don't know how that's going to work out. BUT! I got a fuckton of student aid this semester, for some unknown reason (perhaps the impossible amount of classes I'm taking), and this semester it looks like I only owe the university about 960 dollars. Thank you: Incomprehensible Acronym Federal Grants.

Got a new roomate now. Josh, my roomate from sophomore year, just moved in to fill the void in our lease and my asshole at the same time. What can I say? We have a very special relationship. I helped him move yesterday, as in Sunday.

I'll get back to the prant in a few days. I've got more important shits to do. Thanks for the tags, go away for 10 days, and someone visits the site. Who knew?