I get a great deal of joy from listening to Latterman very loud while riding my bike very fast. Super fast, like to the point where I think I'll go flying if I hit a stone in the road. Whenever I pass driveways or streets (where they have a stop sign and I don't), I always envision getting creamed by a car blazing out at top speed. And I don't really hate the idea. I've wanted to get hit by a car for a few years now. I'm not really sure why, other than I think that I can take it. I'm not talking about a car doing eighty down a highway or anything - I know I'd be be the consistency of a whipped topping after that. But, you know, a car doing thirty or something down a relatively quiet road in a small town (like the one where I currently live).
I think I became really fascinated by the idea while I was in college - I'd always see cars not stopping at the crosswalks when students wanted to cross the street. There'd even be little signs up telling the cars to stop for pedestrians. So I would always just walk out into the road when cars were coming, and they'd have to stop quickly most of the time. It was two-fold for me - either I'd get hit by a car and that'd be pretty sweet, or I'd cause these assholes to slow down and take it easy while driving. Plus, I heard that if you get nailed in the crosswalk, you get loads of money from the school/semesters paid for/etc.
I don't know. Maybe it'll happen one day. If not in a real-life scenario, then I'll have somebody hit me with a car as a part of a wrestling storyline. I'd be down with that.
Anyway.
Three days in a row off! Tomorrow is my birthday! I'll be 24 (AKA, approaching old-manism). God, fucking 24. I feel 16. I'm no adult. I'm a stupid kid who walks around in his underwear all day playing video games and nerding out on the computer to wrestling, LOST, Heroes, and various other things. I guess it's good that I don't really feel old, though, right? Maybe that's part of the reason becoming a store manager at work feels so strange - because I don't really feel like an old (or aged, I guess) person. I still feel young and vibrant and all that crap.
But anyway - the plan for tomorrow is pretty loose thus far. In the early part of the day, my darling lady Knitzy (who I love to bits, and who I think is adorable in the morning when she asks me, half-asleep, to get her juice and things) and I plan to head to Vermont so that I can attempt to defeat Ben & Jerry's Vermonster. It's a daunting task, ladies and gentlemen. From Wikipedia:
Twenty scoops of ice cream, frozen yogurt, or sorbet (usually five scoops of four flavors or four scoops of five flavors)
* Four ladles of hot fudge
* Four bananas
* Ten scoops of chopped walnuts
* One fudge brownie
* Three cookies
* Two scoops each of four different toppings
* Whipped cream
The sundae is usually served in a commemorative plastic bucket, which can weigh anywhere from 4 to 9 pounds.
I think my favorite part is that it "can weigh anywhere from 4 to 9 pounds." That's quite the fucking range. That's like something the cable company would say. And this is a big deal. To not know how much this bastard will weight? It's as an important detail as knowing how long my recovery time would be after ruptured-spleen surgery due to an influx of frozen goodies hemorrhaging inside of my body and taking over my organs with their delicious sweetness. Bits of brownie clogging my most crucial of arteries. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups getting their peanut-buttery goodness wrapped up in my small intestine. Whipped cream clogging my larynch, forcing me to waver closely on the edge of true death by chocolate. And that whipped cream thing has happened before - I almost died at a 1950's-themed party when everyone ganged up on the nerd and sprayed Cool Whip into his mouth. That was fine, until someone else sprayed more and clogged his nose. It was a calamity.
Not Good:
Good:
Although I did wind up getting pounded on all night by that dude's gang. Brutes.
Anyway. This is way long. So watch this and let me know if it's diggable. It's a video that I made from a studio session of my friend's band, Hello Control. And if it's super swell, check out my other stuff on YouTube and leave me some comments. And job offers. For anything involving a camera, moving pictures, or sound. ANYTHING.
I think I became really fascinated by the idea while I was in college - I'd always see cars not stopping at the crosswalks when students wanted to cross the street. There'd even be little signs up telling the cars to stop for pedestrians. So I would always just walk out into the road when cars were coming, and they'd have to stop quickly most of the time. It was two-fold for me - either I'd get hit by a car and that'd be pretty sweet, or I'd cause these assholes to slow down and take it easy while driving. Plus, I heard that if you get nailed in the crosswalk, you get loads of money from the school/semesters paid for/etc.
I don't know. Maybe it'll happen one day. If not in a real-life scenario, then I'll have somebody hit me with a car as a part of a wrestling storyline. I'd be down with that.
Anyway.
Three days in a row off! Tomorrow is my birthday! I'll be 24 (AKA, approaching old-manism). God, fucking 24. I feel 16. I'm no adult. I'm a stupid kid who walks around in his underwear all day playing video games and nerding out on the computer to wrestling, LOST, Heroes, and various other things. I guess it's good that I don't really feel old, though, right? Maybe that's part of the reason becoming a store manager at work feels so strange - because I don't really feel like an old (or aged, I guess) person. I still feel young and vibrant and all that crap.
But anyway - the plan for tomorrow is pretty loose thus far. In the early part of the day, my darling lady Knitzy (who I love to bits, and who I think is adorable in the morning when she asks me, half-asleep, to get her juice and things) and I plan to head to Vermont so that I can attempt to defeat Ben & Jerry's Vermonster. It's a daunting task, ladies and gentlemen. From Wikipedia:
Twenty scoops of ice cream, frozen yogurt, or sorbet (usually five scoops of four flavors or four scoops of five flavors)
* Four ladles of hot fudge
* Four bananas
* Ten scoops of chopped walnuts
* One fudge brownie
* Three cookies
* Two scoops each of four different toppings
* Whipped cream
The sundae is usually served in a commemorative plastic bucket, which can weigh anywhere from 4 to 9 pounds.
I think my favorite part is that it "can weigh anywhere from 4 to 9 pounds." That's quite the fucking range. That's like something the cable company would say. And this is a big deal. To not know how much this bastard will weight? It's as an important detail as knowing how long my recovery time would be after ruptured-spleen surgery due to an influx of frozen goodies hemorrhaging inside of my body and taking over my organs with their delicious sweetness. Bits of brownie clogging my most crucial of arteries. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups getting their peanut-buttery goodness wrapped up in my small intestine. Whipped cream clogging my larynch, forcing me to waver closely on the edge of true death by chocolate. And that whipped cream thing has happened before - I almost died at a 1950's-themed party when everyone ganged up on the nerd and sprayed Cool Whip into his mouth. That was fine, until someone else sprayed more and clogged his nose. It was a calamity.
Not Good:
Good:
Although I did wind up getting pounded on all night by that dude's gang. Brutes.
Anyway. This is way long. So watch this and let me know if it's diggable. It's a video that I made from a studio session of my friend's band, Hello Control. And if it's super swell, check out my other stuff on YouTube and leave me some comments. And job offers. For anything involving a camera, moving pictures, or sound. ANYTHING.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
You have a very impressive mustache and a very pretty lady.