Interesting night tonight. Had some interesting conversations (WINK) and the guys two doors down from me were having some sort of party, got super drunk, passed out with their music on full blast. The CD was skipping or something. Every three seconds a very loud, very quick sound would play. This went on for about 3 hours. It was just totally awesome! Okay, not really, but Brian (the RA) did call DPS and when DPS opened the door (it was locked) they got in loooooads of trouble. Illegal substances, violating the maximum occupancy, noise violation. I can't believe there were 8 people in that room, all passed out or they were just hardcore sleepers.
Friday, October 10, 2003
Thursday, October 09, 2003
I just watched The Shawshank Redemtpion (over the course of 2 days). That is such a great movie. I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. It's just perfect. I love it.
Hmm... here comes a stark contrast to my normally funny filled posts. This time it's a sentimental one and seeing as this is the most accessible way to get my thoughts down it's going here and you all can read it if you are so inclined.
This post is to my childhood best friend Taylor Hodgson who died last year, December 19th, one day before my birthday at the age of 17 in a drunk driving car accident.
One thing that shocked me about his death is that it didn't shock me. It didn't even really bother me... sure it made me sad, but not really sad that he was dead, just sad that a death had occurred. But tonight, tonight I was thinking about everything he did for me and every bit of evidence of his impact on my childhood, on me as a person, on my home... on everything. So here goes Taylor, here is my list of things I remember about you:
I remember how you threw dirt in my eye and we magically became friends. It was hilarious way to meet and probably the only thing I remember of my life ages zero to four.
I remember building a fort out in the wilderness area behind your house and living there for a week. Living on our own.
I remember skipping rocks in my pool. The crack in the cement surrounding the pool is still there from when you fell.
The burn marks are still in my carpet from when we played with your lighter.
The hole in my wall (while patched) is still visible, a reminder of my 12th birthday party.
My basketball hoop is still bent from the time we used the trampoline to play "Slam-Dunk-o-Rama."
I remember staying at your house for days on end and feeling like one of the family. The brown recluse, peeps, frozen sodas, chocolate gum, land mines, water balloons, giant slingshot, skateboarding, hide and go seek, backyard capers, the "crack tree," the ghosts, dirt wars, capture the flag, TD, french toast and powdered sugar. I remember almost everything.
I remember the time we got into a fight because we didn't like the rules of a game we were going to play.
I remember the way you told me to just act myself when I was trying to be something I wasn't.
Skipping school
lighting firecrackers
sneaking out late at night
trick or treating (stealing candy)
flashlight battles
toilet papering houses
even that time we went slashing tires (we were so bad)
Spunky, the best rat ever. I remember burying him in your backyard when he died.
We discovered girls together! Taught eachother everything there is to know about them! (or so we thought)
We had some great times. But one thing I don't remember...
I don't remember why we stopped talking. Why we stopped hanging out about four years ago. Why did the fun have to stop? You didn't move away, I didn't move away, we didn't get in a fight, we had no reason to stop. We just did and I regret it.
I remember the last time I saw you. Senior year of highschool. I was working at Togo's and you came in. You didn't even know I worked there because we hadn't talked in two years. You ordered a meatball sandwich and I gave it to you half-price (would have been for free but the manager was right there) and as I rung you up I saw you steal a bag chips and a cookie. Such a Taylor thing to do and I loved it. Then you just walked out, you let me keep the change from your $20 (your sandwich only cost about 2.50) and you were gone. The last I saw of you. You seemed well. Not high or drunk or cracked out. I was happy the rest of that week.
I was never old enough to tell you how much you meant to me. Now I am, and it's too late. That's probably why I'm typing this up. To show the world how much you mean to me. So here it is. Better late than never I suppose... But yeah, you meant a lot... and, as you would say "See you in Hell."
This post is to my childhood best friend Taylor Hodgson who died last year, December 19th, one day before my birthday at the age of 17 in a drunk driving car accident.
One thing that shocked me about his death is that it didn't shock me. It didn't even really bother me... sure it made me sad, but not really sad that he was dead, just sad that a death had occurred. But tonight, tonight I was thinking about everything he did for me and every bit of evidence of his impact on my childhood, on me as a person, on my home... on everything. So here goes Taylor, here is my list of things I remember about you:
I remember how you threw dirt in my eye and we magically became friends. It was hilarious way to meet and probably the only thing I remember of my life ages zero to four.
I remember building a fort out in the wilderness area behind your house and living there for a week. Living on our own.
I remember skipping rocks in my pool. The crack in the cement surrounding the pool is still there from when you fell.
The burn marks are still in my carpet from when we played with your lighter.
The hole in my wall (while patched) is still visible, a reminder of my 12th birthday party.
My basketball hoop is still bent from the time we used the trampoline to play "Slam-Dunk-o-Rama."
I remember staying at your house for days on end and feeling like one of the family. The brown recluse, peeps, frozen sodas, chocolate gum, land mines, water balloons, giant slingshot, skateboarding, hide and go seek, backyard capers, the "crack tree," the ghosts, dirt wars, capture the flag, TD, french toast and powdered sugar. I remember almost everything.
I remember the time we got into a fight because we didn't like the rules of a game we were going to play.
I remember the way you told me to just act myself when I was trying to be something I wasn't.
Skipping school
lighting firecrackers
sneaking out late at night
trick or treating (stealing candy)
flashlight battles
toilet papering houses
even that time we went slashing tires (we were so bad)
Spunky, the best rat ever. I remember burying him in your backyard when he died.
We discovered girls together! Taught eachother everything there is to know about them! (or so we thought)
We had some great times. But one thing I don't remember...
I don't remember why we stopped talking. Why we stopped hanging out about four years ago. Why did the fun have to stop? You didn't move away, I didn't move away, we didn't get in a fight, we had no reason to stop. We just did and I regret it.
I remember the last time I saw you. Senior year of highschool. I was working at Togo's and you came in. You didn't even know I worked there because we hadn't talked in two years. You ordered a meatball sandwich and I gave it to you half-price (would have been for free but the manager was right there) and as I rung you up I saw you steal a bag chips and a cookie. Such a Taylor thing to do and I loved it. Then you just walked out, you let me keep the change from your $20 (your sandwich only cost about 2.50) and you were gone. The last I saw of you. You seemed well. Not high or drunk or cracked out. I was happy the rest of that week.
I was never old enough to tell you how much you meant to me. Now I am, and it's too late. That's probably why I'm typing this up. To show the world how much you mean to me. So here it is. Better late than never I suppose... But yeah, you meant a lot... and, as you would say "See you in Hell."
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
Story time again! Just a quick warning before you read this next story... I kind of skipped some of the usual funny stuff for a darker story this time. BE WARY! And now I present:
Well, it's story time again. This time it's an adventure with the great Cadie!
Oh what fun filled romps we have. Our most recent one had consequences most dire as you will soon see.
This is Cadie:
There she is. Cute little thing isn't she?
One thing about Cadie is that she hates needles. They freak her out more than anything else. You show her a needle and you're lucky if you doesn't stab your patella with it.
This story begins in a doctor's office...
Cadie wasn't feeling too well so I took it upon myself to escort her to Dr. Bill's office to get a check-up. So we were waiting in his office, Dr. Bill does all the usual check up things and finds something odd, but he won't tell us what it is. He mumbles something about administering something and leaves the room. Cadie looks scared. I remain stone faced (it's what I do best). Dr. Bill comes back 5 minutes later with a rag and asks Cadie "Does this smell like ether to you?" She smells it (idiot) and passes out in no time. I am lead out of the room by three burly women.
Two hours later...
Cadie comes out of the office rubbing her ass. Apparently Dr. Bill gave her 10 needle shots in the rump to cure her "rabies." BUT SHE DOESN'T HAVE RABIES! She might foam at the mouth sometimes, but that's only when I bet her a quarter that she can't eat a whole alkaseltzer tablet! She's super pissed and vows revenge.
Dressing up in our finest leather outfits and pink fuzzy hats we scope around the town looking for clues to Dr. Bill's whereabouts. I suggest that we should just get him at his office as he is most likely there. Cadie gets a stern look on her face and says "That seems way too simple... it wouldn't work!!!" She points to the nearest gay bar and says "Now, I know that Dr. Bill is the straightest of the straight men, but I'll bet you 5 chocolate yum yum's that he's in there."
"Deal."
Once inside the gay bar there is no trace of Dr. Bill. But Cadie notices something suspicious. All the gay men have their asses hanging out (what do you expect? It's a gay bar.) and they all have TEN needle point marks in the shape of DB. DB... DB... Dr. BILL! Duh. So Cadie grabs the nearest naked cabana boy and demands to know where all the gay men got pricked in the ass. He says that all the doctors meet up after hours for a little street fighting in a meat factory. Except it's a meat factory so they don't have a street... but they so desparately want to be street fighters that they build their own street out of cardboard boxes, black and yellow paint and a ton of moxy. One interesting thing about this group of fighting doctors is that after each fight they have, the doctors tend to eachother so no one gets seriously injured or dies...
Ten hours later we go to the meat factory/doctor street fighting arena and Cadie signs up to be a combatant. Too bad she didn't see the sign that said "Doctors Only." OUCH! REJECTED bY THE MAN! Well... scrap that idea... But just then, Cadie has a flash of brilliance. She fakes sick in front of all those doctors! One doctor is concerned and takes us back to his office to ask her questions about how she's feeling. In the flash of a wink of an eye Cadie leaps up like a lemur and pulls out the most deadliest plastic spork one has ever laid sight upon! It is a wicked device of her own creation, she cut off the left and right pokey thing so it just has the one in the middle. It kind of looks like Mr. T... She plunges the Mr. T shaped spork into the doctor's left patella and hobbles him. Then she proceeds to pull out his teeth with her GI Joe doll that has super kung-fu grip. AND she FINALLY puts a Peep inside of him and waits till his internal body heat makes the Peep expand so much that his insides blow out of his body. Once that gore fest was over she stole his diploma and over his name wrote "Dr. Cadie" in red crayola.
Well, now that she's a certified doctor we can join the fights! She signs up under the name "Administrator Of Pain" and dons her pink/yellow/orange/blue/fushia/periwinkle/purple/black/white/off-white/egg-shell white/toupe leotard and is ready for action!
"OH MAN are we in luck!" I think as I see that her first opponent is Dr. Bill, who chose the clever monicker "Kill Bill." Upon seeing his name Cadie started to chant "Kill Bill" in a heated whisper, working herself into a frenzy matched only by the rabid mongoose of the east. The combatants meet eachother face to face. The referee, a man wearing hockey goalie gear and a mohawk gestures for the fighters to touch hands. Cadie refuses.
Tension builds in the air. It was thick like jello. The world started to distort as tempers flared out of control and yet were being simultaneously held back. It was kind of like watching a necropheliac in a graveyard trying oh so desparately to not rape the nearest exposed corpse.
Restraint is the key to detonating at the proper moment. Timing... blow up at the wrong instant and you'll be lucky to stub a toe.
A man in a leather mask strikes The Gong of All Mighty Doctor Fighting. Kill Bill LEAPS at Cadie but she does a fanciful side dodge and then blinds him with her super ultra shiny multi-technicolored spandex leotard thingy. In his blinded state he starts swinging his scalpel wildly. OH NO!! Unphased by the wild assault Cadie takes this instant of impaired vision to JAM her deadly spork of ultimate massacring into Kill Bill's eyes. She grabs him by his sumo thong and THROWS him into a meathook. And, like any typical badass, mutters a killer one liner. "How do you like getting pricked in the ass. Ass."
But Cadie just broke the number one rule of Street Fighting Doctor's. No one dies. So she tries to hide the evidence and eats Dr. Bill. Too bad it was in front of all the other doctors. Nice work. Then the room grows dark. The doctors all put on their little white doctor masks, put on their gloves and whip out their syringes. This doesn't look good. Cadie, surrounded by a score of injection-happy doctors, spork in hand, super colorful spandex leotard on body. Alone, in the mists of a sea of white agony. Her only companion, that being me, is hiding in one of the meat lockers. What can I do? All I have is an M-16 and 400 bullets. I'm useless. So I stare and watch as the doctors circle her menacingly. Her grip on the spork tightens. The next thing I know the doctors lunge at her, all at once and the last thing I see is the dull white glint of her Mr. T shaped spork...
TO BE CONTINUED
"Small Prick, Big Trouble"
Well, it's story time again. This time it's an adventure with the great Cadie!
Oh what fun filled romps we have. Our most recent one had consequences most dire as you will soon see.
This is Cadie:
There she is. Cute little thing isn't she?
One thing about Cadie is that she hates needles. They freak her out more than anything else. You show her a needle and you're lucky if you doesn't stab your patella with it.
This story begins in a doctor's office...
Cadie wasn't feeling too well so I took it upon myself to escort her to Dr. Bill's office to get a check-up. So we were waiting in his office, Dr. Bill does all the usual check up things and finds something odd, but he won't tell us what it is. He mumbles something about administering something and leaves the room. Cadie looks scared. I remain stone faced (it's what I do best). Dr. Bill comes back 5 minutes later with a rag and asks Cadie "Does this smell like ether to you?" She smells it (idiot) and passes out in no time. I am lead out of the room by three burly women.
Two hours later...
Cadie comes out of the office rubbing her ass. Apparently Dr. Bill gave her 10 needle shots in the rump to cure her "rabies." BUT SHE DOESN'T HAVE RABIES! She might foam at the mouth sometimes, but that's only when I bet her a quarter that she can't eat a whole alkaseltzer tablet! She's super pissed and vows revenge.
Dressing up in our finest leather outfits and pink fuzzy hats we scope around the town looking for clues to Dr. Bill's whereabouts. I suggest that we should just get him at his office as he is most likely there. Cadie gets a stern look on her face and says "That seems way too simple... it wouldn't work!!!" She points to the nearest gay bar and says "Now, I know that Dr. Bill is the straightest of the straight men, but I'll bet you 5 chocolate yum yum's that he's in there."
"Deal."
Once inside the gay bar there is no trace of Dr. Bill. But Cadie notices something suspicious. All the gay men have their asses hanging out (what do you expect? It's a gay bar.) and they all have TEN needle point marks in the shape of DB. DB... DB... Dr. BILL! Duh. So Cadie grabs the nearest naked cabana boy and demands to know where all the gay men got pricked in the ass. He says that all the doctors meet up after hours for a little street fighting in a meat factory. Except it's a meat factory so they don't have a street... but they so desparately want to be street fighters that they build their own street out of cardboard boxes, black and yellow paint and a ton of moxy. One interesting thing about this group of fighting doctors is that after each fight they have, the doctors tend to eachother so no one gets seriously injured or dies...
Ten hours later we go to the meat factory/doctor street fighting arena and Cadie signs up to be a combatant. Too bad she didn't see the sign that said "Doctors Only." OUCH! REJECTED bY THE MAN! Well... scrap that idea... But just then, Cadie has a flash of brilliance. She fakes sick in front of all those doctors! One doctor is concerned and takes us back to his office to ask her questions about how she's feeling. In the flash of a wink of an eye Cadie leaps up like a lemur and pulls out the most deadliest plastic spork one has ever laid sight upon! It is a wicked device of her own creation, she cut off the left and right pokey thing so it just has the one in the middle. It kind of looks like Mr. T... She plunges the Mr. T shaped spork into the doctor's left patella and hobbles him. Then she proceeds to pull out his teeth with her GI Joe doll that has super kung-fu grip. AND she FINALLY puts a Peep inside of him and waits till his internal body heat makes the Peep expand so much that his insides blow out of his body. Once that gore fest was over she stole his diploma and over his name wrote "Dr. Cadie" in red crayola.
Well, now that she's a certified doctor we can join the fights! She signs up under the name "Administrator Of Pain" and dons her pink/yellow/orange/blue/fushia/periwinkle/purple/black/white/off-white/egg-shell white/toupe leotard and is ready for action!
"OH MAN are we in luck!" I think as I see that her first opponent is Dr. Bill, who chose the clever monicker "Kill Bill." Upon seeing his name Cadie started to chant "Kill Bill" in a heated whisper, working herself into a frenzy matched only by the rabid mongoose of the east. The combatants meet eachother face to face. The referee, a man wearing hockey goalie gear and a mohawk gestures for the fighters to touch hands. Cadie refuses.
Tension builds in the air. It was thick like jello. The world started to distort as tempers flared out of control and yet were being simultaneously held back. It was kind of like watching a necropheliac in a graveyard trying oh so desparately to not rape the nearest exposed corpse.
Restraint is the key to detonating at the proper moment. Timing... blow up at the wrong instant and you'll be lucky to stub a toe.
A man in a leather mask strikes The Gong of All Mighty Doctor Fighting. Kill Bill LEAPS at Cadie but she does a fanciful side dodge and then blinds him with her super ultra shiny multi-technicolored spandex leotard thingy. In his blinded state he starts swinging his scalpel wildly. OH NO!! Unphased by the wild assault Cadie takes this instant of impaired vision to JAM her deadly spork of ultimate massacring into Kill Bill's eyes. She grabs him by his sumo thong and THROWS him into a meathook. And, like any typical badass, mutters a killer one liner. "How do you like getting pricked in the ass. Ass."
But Cadie just broke the number one rule of Street Fighting Doctor's. No one dies. So she tries to hide the evidence and eats Dr. Bill. Too bad it was in front of all the other doctors. Nice work. Then the room grows dark. The doctors all put on their little white doctor masks, put on their gloves and whip out their syringes. This doesn't look good. Cadie, surrounded by a score of injection-happy doctors, spork in hand, super colorful spandex leotard on body. Alone, in the mists of a sea of white agony. Her only companion, that being me, is hiding in one of the meat lockers. What can I do? All I have is an M-16 and 400 bullets. I'm useless. So I stare and watch as the doctors circle her menacingly. Her grip on the spork tightens. The next thing I know the doctors lunge at her, all at once and the last thing I see is the dull white glint of her Mr. T shaped spork...
TO BE CONTINUED
