Monday, March 31, 2008

'06? '08? Fuck I'm Confused...But Either Way It's Expired

I'm stuck in the awkward position of wanting to write, but not wanting to be creative, so I'm just going to tell an old story I meant to write up a while ago. Enjoy.

The night started out perfectly normal with me getting that old fuck-I-haven't-gone-running-today-yet-and-now-I-have-to-do-it-in-the-dark feeling. Little did I know that familiar feeling would soon be replaced by something much darker...I jumped out the door to do a nice out-and-back down Rt. 116, a staple late-night route. But little did I know that tonight that route would hold an unexpected obstacle...The first half of the run went well, and after slapping a landmark I turned around, filled with optimism and enjoying the sweet spring (ok, February) air. Little did I know that the air would soon-ah, fuck it.

About a mile down the road I caught a whiff of skunk. Now, if you think driving by a dead skunk is bad, you don't know nothing. When you're running, you're moving way slower and typically sucking air like there's no tomorrow. You get lungful after lungful of skunk until you've finally trudged out of ground zero.

And this was no ordinary skunk. No, sir. It must have been some kind of ├╝ber-skunk, a really killer the King Koopa of skunks, the big smelly cheese of skunks. It didn't help that he'd been killed within the last 10 minutes.

My kingdom for some diffusion.

It soon became clear that I was running into the very heart of the stench. Every step, well, at least every other step brought a new wave of nausea and disgust. Just as I was being convinced that I was about to puke all over someone's mailbox, I looked to my right and lo! There he was, tail blowing lazily in the wind. I closed my eyes, held my breath, and made a break for fresher air. Thankfully, the wind was with me and soon the stench receded. I was at peace again, free of the horrible smell.

At least that's what I thought...

I got back to my dorm and paused to stretch for a moment. Then...what's that smell? Fuck. I could hear Kahn's voice in my head, "With my last breath I stab at thee!": to my horror, my shirt still smelled like skunk. Apparently, my lungs weren't the only thing saturated by his evil essence.

I sprung into action. Every piece of clothing I had was thrown into the washing machine, two pints of Febreeze was poured into my shoes, and I scrubbed off the outermost 18 layers of my skin. Thinking that was sufficient, I started to relax. But no! My beloved Ironman watch also reeked. I thought its 30 lap memory would protect it, but I was wrong. Within seconds (it's hard to say exactly, since I was unwilling to use my stopwatch) I was back in the bathroom, bathing my watch in soap until I could smell nylon boiling. I wiped my hands and smiled. Surely I had finally defeated the vile creature and could go back to living a normal life.

But in this moment of victory I reached for my room key, which I keep in my shoelaces while running. The stench hit me again, fouler than ever before in the splendor of its final revenge. My key smelled. My KEY!! It's made of metal, how does metal possibly acquire some strong an odor just by passing through a cloud of it?! NOOOOO!!!

I've been locked in my room ever since. You never know when he might come back! I hope help comes soon...I suspect Tommy the Sock is a traitor and the Febreeze is starting to run out...

Saturday, March 29, 2008


It has recently come to my attention that this this blog has recently come to the attention of many of the people I live with. If you're ever taken by the idea of mentioning it (especially in a negative way) on a regular basis, this is all I have to say to you:

So there and good day.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

School's Important, I Swear

I think the makers of Trojan brand condoms skipped a key day of history class because has got to be the stupidest name for a condom brand. Let's think about Trojans for a moment: 1) they lost the war. It's the only thing any of us are aware of Troy doing, and they lost. 2) They lost because of a girl (Helen of Troy, right?). I personally don't like the idea of condoms that don't fare well in conflicts involving women. And, worst of all, we have the Trojan Horse! Think about it. The horse was used to sneak unwanted dudes into an unsuspecting city. Just think about that Trojan Horse full of little spermies eager to ransack something. BAD!

Girl: "Oh, look, a Trojan. He must mean well. I know because I got a C+ in history."
Spermies: "Hooray! The trick is working, she thinks the Trojan is harmless because it looks safe. Now we can ransack her city."

This is not good. Trojan: bad marketing scheme. Good thing the women haven't caught on yet, otherwise you'd start making a lot of guys very unhappy.

Girl: "Honey, I'm not sure about this...something makes me suspect that condom of ransack-related trickery."
Dude: "Wait, did you just call me "honey"? What the fuck?!"
Spermies: "NOOO! We art thwarted!"

Saturday, March 22, 2008

I Think He's Onto Something

Patrick's right, why haven't I posted in so long? No excuse. Absolutely no excuse. Oh, wait, never mind. Now I remember; I got someone pregnant. Also here there is no excuse. Let me be the first (ok, second) to say "my bad, I'm sorry". Needless to say, I've been pretty busy. I know, I know, wrong priorities. I'll get them straight, I promise, it's just that Julie is a bit hormonal and, how you say, pissed? I'm sure it'll blow over though, any day now. So, devoted reader, hang in there just a little longer.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Last Stand Of The Banana Man

Midterm Sanity:

Always answer your phone "sup, homeslizzle" if you don't recognize the phone number (this applies at all times, not just near midterms).

Call your lab grader "homes" in a lab report. Also, tell him you hate him to his face (because you do) because he's being mean, or because he doesn't appreciate you writing stuff like "uncertainty is a lie!" or "oscilloscopes are made by the government!" on the chalkboard.

Highlight the word "sketchy" in your anthropology book, totally without context. A month later, when you're skimming the highlighted parts, you will laugh. Laughing is important. Without laughing, education would win.

Use Elvish and Hobbit words in your anthropology notes because they really do help you remember concepts. Be sure to share these words with anyone you're studying with. Score major dork points. Later, these points can be redeemed for bemused eye-rolling on the part of non-dorks.

Um...smell the roses?

Ok, you caught me, this is all just a shameless excuse to use the word "homeslizzle". But I actually did highlight "sketchy" in a book and laugh hysterically when I found it last night. I might be able to write something real about homeslizzles, homeslices, homedawgs, or just regular homes, but I'm on the wrong side of a lot of caffeine.

571.265.1693. If I don't say "homeslizzle", yell at me.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

Where Are The Chi-Squares?

Good Omens

8.5 weeks until the HEF SmartRun.
25 weeks until Newtown.
40 weeks until Manchester.

So I'm looking to get back to competing at the 5k, probably not so well at first, but who have to start somewhere. The first big race of the Comeback Kid's 2008 tour is coming up: May 4th. I only have the wink of an eye (about eight and a half weeks) to get myself is respectable, hopefully sub-20 shape. Today was a nice 5.5+ miler through the rain. My shoes were heavy and I was cold, but I managed a pace that I assume (the distance is a total ballpark) was a little below 8's. But who cares.

It was raining, so naturally my shirt was soaking wet. Or at least that's what I assumed when I looked down at my soaking wet shirt. But when I got back to my dorm, people kept saying "You must've been going really fast". It turns out that the back of my shirt was almost completely dry while the front was sopping wet, a function of running into the rain. I guess the difference was enough to convince everyone I must've been tearing shit up out there.

Go me.

(Also, I desperately needed an excuse to write something here).