Holy shit! Look who it is... it's ME!

So lets see.....Been nearly 2 months since I've posted... And you know what? You guys didn't miss a damn thing in my life. Well, I guess some shit went down, but nothing super important. So the whole "Spending less time on the computer thing" has kind of worked. Basicly instead of staying on the computer so much, I sleep. God I hate sleeping. Well.... no, that's not true. I hate going to sleep and I hate waking up. Sleeping is just fine though. This has been a pretty crazy, sleepless week. I've only slept threeof the past five nights and two of those that I did sleep were very poor sleep.
It all started when I didn't want to sleep one night because I was trying to fix my schedual... I can't really remember what the days were that I didn't sleep, so I'm not going to tell the story... (I did start telling it, but deleted it because I don't have a clue on what I was talking about) this week has been one LONG day. Didn't go to work Thursday, slept for like 18 hours, stayed up all that night and went to work Friday on no sleep. Basicly took too much euphedrin (energy pills) and couldn't sleep for shit Friday night. Got like 4 hours of sleep and I had to come in to work at 10 yesterday and work a 12 hour shift. Last night my legs were so sore from clenching them while I was on the euphedrin I couldn't sleep very well, so yeah... I'm tired.

Last week on the other hand... was a good week... although it left me with a nice little paradox to figure out. By the way, when I say last week, I mean last weekend. So I'm working late for a friend... Saturday. He brings about an ounce of Magic Mushrooms to work. Short story shorter, we had fun at work. Now that is where this paradox comes in (paradox on mushrooms... suprise suprise!)

So for the past year and a half, I have been staying sober... more or less. I havn't been smoking pot and I havn't been drinking and I've done a few other things (pills mainly) about 5-6 times, give or take. Now I'm staying sober because I'm a fucking drug addict. In past experiences I have not been able to control my drug use to a reasonable manner and I don't want to go back to that. But, like I said, I've only used a few times in the past year and a half... and I consider that reasonable (except for the one time that I did smoke pot and went off on that for a few months... but that doesn't count, I don't want to use marijuana anymore). So my treatment and AA teaches that we, as drug addicts, are powerless over our addiction. Meaning, that if I start to use psychedelics on a rare occasion, it will eventually lead back to full-blown, out-of-control drug use. Now, being the stubborn, pseudo-intellectual that I claim to be, this is hard to believe. What I want to believe is that I am an exception to the rules, the rules of addiction. I have seen, time and time again, people who believe that and go out to try it and fail. But still, I think I can do it... So the question is, do I try it? I think I will have to. If it doesn't work, and I go back out to the game, maybe I will finally be convinced (if I make it back that is). If it does work, well, then it works. And I prove I am an exception to the rule. God, I'm such a drug addict. But either way, I'm going to get fucked up when Nate comes and visits. Because he will be very pissed off if I don't. Doing psychedelics is such a good bonding experience. I guess... Anywho...

All efforts to quit being an obsessive-stalker-harrasser-type-guy have proved... successful. That's one of those things you look back on and say "What the Fuck? That was Me?" Or something like that.

Soon, within two weeks, I should be starting the night shift! Yay! I'll be working Friday, Saturday, and Sunday from 9pm-7am. I'll probably be working a week day too... but my schedual is going to be worse than it is right now... so I don't know, maybe I can come in around noon. Also signed up for an online class in PC Troubleshooting so I will have something to do at night and I won't have to pay rent.
Speaking of rent, if you know anybody trustworthy in the Dallas area, tell me! I think I need to move out... maybe... Actually, what I want is to move in with Nate or Jon... I think (maybe(BIG MAYBE)) that me and Jon may get an apartment. But that means he has to get a steady job and stuff... so yeah, big maybe. I'll hope, but I sure won't expect.

Hmmm... I got a new tattoo since last post... it's a baphomet pentagram. Maybe I'll get a picture up of it, its super evil.

Anyways, guys, hit up the tagboard. We're lonely.

Out.

So, I've accumulated more information than I had at my last post. I guess that's a little like saying "This is a picture of me when I was younger." It's invariably true. Unless of course, you're either involved in some kind of time paradox thing, or have some sort of brain damage. They're both pretty similar. Time travel, you go through time, meet interesting and exotic people, and do stuff. You get brain damage, you meet interesting and exotic people, perhaps drool on them. You drink heavily, meet interesting and exotic people, perhaps urinate on them, and don't remember any of it. Well, I thought they were related, now that I flesh out the idea in words, it makes less sense.

Oh, and I would like to apologize for insinuating that anyone who doesn't know what auteur theory is is an imbecile. That was not what I intended. I was angry at people who are using the theory as a basis for their evaluation of literature, while I suspect that none of them know what it is. Plus, these people were being dumb. Don't do that... I HATE that. I HATE IT.

Anyway. I found out that the comedy contest is on the 15th of July. Tuesday night. My actual time will be determined randomly on the night in question. I get three minutes. THREE! Everyone gets three minutes. I was worried I'd have to fill like 20 minutes. Oh well, this may help me edit, a thing I am obviously loathe to do. At least, when you consider my longwindedness when expressing menial concepts. So for my act, I'm thinking about the bleu cheese bit and the homeland security bit. I like those alot. If I cut one or both down a little, I might be able to squeeze in a third.

I will post the bleu cheese bit here, for those of you that don't know it.

So when you’re hungry late, you've got Perkins and Denny’s (which is everywhere). Where I'm from there's IHOP and Waffle House. But whatever, the locations of these places in relation to the Mason-Dixon line is another bit entirely. They’re all the same if you get there like 20 minutes before a shift change at around 4 am. There’s one cook, one server, they’re all tired, and don’t give a shit. I could just not order bleu cheese dressing. Because I know that none of these places have it. But I DIDN'T know until I ordered it a few times, and got ranch. Is it just the same word to these people? Or do they think I don't know the difference? I wanna see veins in the dressing so thick I think it's a penis. Don't just throw some creamy white shit on my lettuce and tell me it's bleu cheese, you lying waiting table no tip getting motherfucker. If I don't put my foot down now, where will it end? If you think I can't taste the difference between ranch and bleu cheese, it's not a very far step from just masturbating into my salad, and that will not stand. I ordered the shit, you told me you had it, and all of a sudden I feel like I'm herding cattle in a hidden valley.

This is one of the few bits that I have down really well. As a result, it actually looses something in the text version. Most of my jokes are written to be read (it's a complex problem I'm working on), this one is meant to be heard. The homeland security bit goes a little something like this:

Do you guys laugh during press conferences about homeland security? This is the funniest shit that’s been on TV for at least 5 years. It’s mind boggling. Everyone’s so concerned about Terrorism that they don’t give a shit about anything else. And since there isn’t any tangible threat, they start making things up pretty quickly. People asking questions like: “Mister secretary, can you please explain to us the nation’s plan of action if Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Savior were to rise again in all his glory next week? Would we be able to step down our alert level from orange?” We’re at yellow now, in case you guys don’t know. I’m sure you feel more secure with that knowledge. What is up with that little warning system anyway? Green, blue, yellow, orange, red? Does it strike anyone else as odd that green is safer than blue? How, exactly does that work? Green is yellow and blue combined, DAMMIT. The whole color scheme is fucked. Bush sympathizers are always searching for evidence of what our president actually does in his office, and I think we’ve finally found some. They let him arrange the colors. Only with George W. Bush could an arbitrary color-coded danger system get fucked up. And NOBODY knows what the conditions mean either, let alone when it should change. They mean nothing, I think they have 7 interior decorators hidden in a secret bunker 40 miles beneath the surface of the moon, and their job is to decide what our state of alert is here. “What do you guys think? Is today an orange day? Gerome? Is orange okay? I’m feeling kind of orange.”

The end of that bit is in a gay voice. Anyway, it's late, and I should retire.

So today, I was in my fiction class. Whew, the people in this class. I mean, sure, reading fiction is arbitrary. People are going to take different things away from it. That's no excuse to see something in the text that simply isn't there. You fucking morons. Read the fucking words, they tell you what the story means. I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing these bullshit interpretations of fiction (usually based on auteur theory, regardless if the imbecile knows what that is or not) of genuinely good stories.

"Well, I see a bit of homosexuality on the part of the hero." Bullshit, there is none. You're gay.

"I think there's some good in the grandmother character." She drowns her dog, slaps her granddaughter, and has a reverie about loathing her daughter. Yeah, sounds like an amiable person.

"The author of this story obviously had issues about his mother." No shit. Who doesn't. You writing your own material, or is a team of chimps working around the clock on it. Assessing an author's psychological makeup based on one of their works is absolutely retarded. You are absolutely retarded, and I hate you for it.

"I have nothing to say, but I'm going to talk in circles for at least 45 seconds too long." That's not a direct quote, I'm paraphrasing. Just stop.

"I"m a feminist and see females being hated in anything I experience." Again, I'm paraphrasing. Become a dyke and hang out with dykes, don't trouble the rest of the world with your bullshit.

"I'm a film major and obsessed with the meta-reality inherent in any media, because I just heard the word 'meta' in one of my film studies classes." Maybe it's just me, but I think I abandoned any semblence of quoting people, I'm just describing them now. I went through this phase too, don't worry, the novelty will wear off. Meta-meta-meta-shit isn't nearly as witty when you're not constantly high. (For those of you that are high though, Meta-meta-meta-shit would be shit that has been eaten by someone, shit out, then eaten by a catfish, then shit out, then eaten by a fungus and shit out.) Stop smoking so much fucking pot. Your judgement is skewed so far that you don't even know where you are, let alone where you're going (in a metaphorical or literal sense). Guess I'm ranting now. My fucking fiction teacher is from California. I HATE PEOPLE FROM CALIFORNIA. I tried to give them a chance. Each one I meet, I say to myself, "Maybe this one won't be retarded." Pretentious, ignorant, pompous shitlickers. It's like, since they're from the same state as Hollywood, some of the pompous air that Film generates gets absorbed by their baby lungs, and goes straight to their fucking brain. I mean, actors are pretentious. C'mon, they are. Nobody that gets paid to play pretend (even if they do it REALLY well) could be anything but an absolute asshole. Even people that don't act and are from California seem infused with this attitude though. It pisses me off.

Alright. Hit up the tagboard if you believe there are multiple matricies in the Matrix universe. That's my running theory. Out.

So I began this blog as a kind of way for me to vent my rants that don't fit in anywhere else. Naturally, it's hard to keep up that kind of intensity. In addition, my severe loathing of the human race as somewhat lessened. Whoa, hold up there slick, I'm not through yet. I still hate everything, I just don't feel the need to talk about it quite as much as I did a few months ago. I'm also much busier than I was when I started this thing up. At that time, I was dropped out of school, had no job, and had recently quit doing drugs. I was bored. I needed to do... something. This was it. Since then, things have changed, and so has the blog. We update less, say less, but that's generally because there's less to keep you up to date on, and we have a bit less to say. The blog has become more of my personal thoughts before I go to bed every night. This is honestly not what I intended, I wanted something far grander for this weblog, something much more grandoise. Well, I was still suffering from a bad case of amphetamine psychosis at the time, give me a fucking break. Soon, I hope to transform this meager pittance to my withering excuse for an intellect into a tribute to my ideology. Not today though.

Needless to say, I've picked up some of my old habits. I'm not exactly doing drugs. Much. I'm in school again. I'm really, really hoping I passed my Film Studies class. If I didn't, I'm really going to have to kiss some ass to stay in school. Oh well. Getting out of trouble is probably one of the few things I have a natural talent for. I don't know exactly where I was going with this. Good night, America.

C'mon kids, gather 'round. There's a new sensation hittin' town. It's moving slow, low to the ground. It'll pick you up when you're feelin' down.

Alright, I've actually got some funny things to relate to you.

First, remember that girl I was talking about in my Film studies class? The one that reminds me of Donna from "That 70's Show"? Yeah, I asked her out, and she's married. That's right, married. The conversation went a little something like this.

We're talking about the class, and I felt that since I embarass myself infront of lots of people every week, why not do it before Friday night.
So I said, "Do you date immature men?" A Seinfeld line that I must admit I'm partial to.
Then she said, "I'm married."
Me, "What?"
She holds up her hand and I stifle a fit of giggles that overtake me most of the way walking home. Fucking married, no shit. Well, I thought it was funny.

Then on Friday, before I do my standup act, I'm sitting outside the place, doing some writing. Out of nowhere, this drunk dude, sits down at my table. He tried to sit with the chick a few tables down, but she kindly rebuked him. So anyway, he tells me that he's been at the U of M since 1986. He's getting his Masters in Mass Communication. For the record, I don't believe it, but it could be true. Anyway, he asks me what my major is, which is where things get interesting.

Me: English.
He notices that I'm writing stuff.
Him: Are those poems?
Me: No, I fancy myself a stand up comic.
Him: Lay it on me, make me laugh brother.
Me: Um, I'm not really a funny person.

Anyway, so I tell him some of the bits that I've been writing in my little notebook thing. He thought a couple of them were funny. Then he stops this crowd of people walking down the sidewalk. Maybe some of you know what is about to unfold. He tells them that I'm a standup comic, and they should give me 5 minutes of their time. Meanwhile, I'm saying, "Um, don't let us sitting at the same table decieve you, I don't know this guy. Keep walking, don't make me do this." He won't let them leave. Nor will he let me use my material (I didn't have any of it memorized, was in class all week, it was a pain in the ass.) Whew, that was funny.

That's about all I've got, I'm gonna go to sleep or something now.

A Nate Update. That rhymes.

Anyway.

I started classes last week. It's only a 3 week term, so it's actually quite intensive, hence the lack of posts by me. I met a cute girl in the class though (it takes something like this for me to attend the class). She reminds me a lot of Donna from 'That 70's Show' actually. It's mostly her voice (which is super duper sexy) and her complexion, although the hair color has a slight reddish tinge. She's a big girl. Not like, fat, but she's probably about 5'10" or so. Maybe 5'9". Needless to say, it took me a week to get the courage up to even start annoying her. I started that a few days ago, and I've been doing it regularly after class. Tomorrow I'm going to invite her to my act on Friday. I doubt she'll show. Oh, and I should probably ask her name. I don't really know if we have anything in common, but she is dead sexy, and that's enough for me.

So I've been doing comedy pretty religiously. I'm working on an actual act now. I'll be able to fill 20 minutes with solid material, but I'm not sure about anything beyond that. Now that I'm getting a little more serious about it, I'm going to start making tapes. I'm actually slightly on schedule with the plan on how I wanted to be progressing with my comedy, which is heartening to realize. I feel like I'm moving slowly, but I had planned to start making tapes in june and july. This should help me develop my jokes. Let's face it, I need to be lots better than I am now before I move to New York.

Sean and I are still developing Ideas for the sketch comedy we're going to be putting together once we locate resources for said sketches. Mainly a camera and some intelligence. It's gonna be good. I've got several very solid sketch ideas, which I will NOT divulge here. You fucking parasites.

So that's what I've been doing. Well, that and getting quite drunk on a regular basis. What? Fucking commies.