Friday, October 2, 2009

Would you rather

There are things in life that are not necessarily good things, but all in all, they are not really the worst things ever. For example: lukewarm cappuccino, a rainy day, provocative male dancing, holey socks, holey underwear, etc. Something else I would like to add to that list is attractive female stalkers. I won't lie, I can think of things a lot worse than that. Being burned at the stake, having a severe rash on ones genitals, face planting on a garden spade sticking straight up, getting trampled by a riotting mob. My friend Kyle is currently experiencing a stalking (by phone and facebook videos) of some longing ladies. They dig him like a shovel digs dirt. I can't blame them. Though Kyle has no personal interest in any of these young lasses, It is no secret that he is quite amused. All in all, I'd rather have a foxy female that I have no interest in treat me like a Greek god than have each of my limbs severed with a rusty razor.

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Strictly for my Ninjas

Does your bed ever smell like farts? Mine does, and so does my room. Its a common fact that the smell of farts, B.O. and other earthy smells are the aroma of a solid bromance. Bromance is the brotherly, inseparable bond of two or more men. boys. or bros. Here are some good activities that really encourage male bonding: Any kind of physical competition such as sword fighting. Getting muddy after it rains. Getting into legal trouble with a group of six or more. Eating large amounts of steak or something (or bacon pizza). dance parties. Talking late into the night about women...etc. Traveling in a large pack of bros is never frowned upon, even when on dates. It provides safety and security. Plus there is timeless quality conversation. "Bros before hoes." Why? Because your bros are always there for you. They have got your back after your ho rips yours heart out for no good reason. And you are nothing but great to your ho, and you told her that she was the only ho for you, and that she was better than all the other hoes in the world... and then... and then suddenly she's not yo' ho' no mo'.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Fits of Rage

If you were to ask me, hey Jackson how are you feeling? I would calmly reply: I'm feeling furious. I am furious for numerous reasons. Last night I went cosmic bowling. I am not furious about cosmic bowling but i am furious that I didn't bowl over 100 in either game. I am also furious that my friends think I clench my butt when I walk. Obviously I don't. I am furious that Frank Gore left the game early today and my fantasy team is playing horribly. I am furious that the sun is not shining today. When the sun is not shining it makes me want to tear my clothing and yell scurvy! I am furious that my mom threw out a bunch of my underwear before I left for college. I am furious that Canada is still a country and that they are defended by mounties. I am furious that kids think my brother is my twin. I am furious that I can't just dance. I am furious because of racial descrimination. Chocolate rain made me cross the street today. I am furious that Nickelback hasn't had their plane go down yet. I am furious that I don't own a personal jet. I am furious that 10% of all living animals are stinging insects.

Friday, September 25, 2009

Making an Appearance

Today is a friday and I had two classes today. Make that three but i only went to two. I have noticed a similar trend in these classes in that I was tardy for both of them. Yes, tardiness has become fashionable for me. Not in the sense that I woke up too late, I couldn't get my paper printed at the library in time, or that I fell in a bermese tiger trap while walking across campus. No, I have been late to class because I realized that it gives me a certain flair. Most students arrive to class about five days early, I mean minutes. They sit there and think about stuff like, "I can't wait for my hot date tonite." or "I wish I were still in bed sleeping." or "I forgot to put my deoderant on." or "I forgot to take my insulin." Just thoughts like that. I would rather not have those five minutes to think about all those thoughts that don't prepare me for class. Class is something that one has to pour themself into. Like Andrew Smith pours himself into poofing his jew fro each morning, one must pour themself into preparation for class. I like to spend those first few minutes of class not there. Then about five minutes in, maybe fifteen in, bam! there I am. Strolling casually into class after it started. I like being late to class because it gets me mentally prepared, and also because everyone turns and watches me walk in all cool like. It's another way of saying, I'm kind of a big deal. I like to walk the isle to my seat and say stuff like "don't look at me, don't look at me" real casually and cool just to impress kids, the way Mariah Carey says it before her song, Beautiful, and then maybe wink at a few ladies. Then I am right ready for class and I learn 1,000x more than anyone else.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Fried Okra.

Just a day, just an ordinary day. Just trying to get lunch. Leaving work dressed in some fine clothing, I made my way to the dc to snag some lunch and chat with some ladies and bros. I entered the large room known as the dining commons, set my stuff down with my crew at a table, then made my way to browse the available dinings. There was salad, some exotic meats, and then I saw it, and my stomache hit the floor. (in a good way) There it was. The most amazing fried breaded vegetable of all fried, breaded vegetables: Fried Okra. I instantaniously grabbed a plate and filled it with fried okra. What pains me is no one else shared my affinity for fried okra. Williams incessantly complained about how much he hated okra. I wanted to break an ant farm of fire ants in his bed due to his hate. Anyone that doesn't love fried okra deserves to encounter an evil wizard and have the crucio curse performed on them. Ok, that is too harsh. I revert my last statement to just a stern wagging of the finger. I would like to finish my blog by giving props to the dc ladies who made the okra, as well as advertise cupcake's photo blog. PEACE!