Sunday, December 12, 2004
Me: So, do you find the barcode system....adequate?
Store Lady: Sir, would you please pull up your pants?
You see what I mean? Anyway, I guess we were having some kind of sick competition to see who could dress the other person, I believe the word was, "cutest". Ilse was getting clothes for me to try on while I was just making sure that no one from school would see me. Luckily, the lighting wasn't very good in the store except for on the gigantic pictures of guys with their shirts off. Seriously, it was disgusting. I mean, who really goes bobsledding without a shirt? And furthermore, who would look that great while bobsledding without a shirt? No one, that's who. Obviously the photo was staged and hardly worth anyone to stare at it for half an hour, let alone me.
Finally, Ilse got all the clothes I was to try on for no apparent reason. She showed me to the "dressing rooms". All I saw were two female employees standing in a doorway.
Me: Can I get a dressing room?
One of the girls: What's your number?
Me: Zero six! Zero six! Zero zero zero six!
Other girl: No, how many pieces of clothing do you have?
Me: Zero six! Zero six! Zero zero zero six!
We finally got it straightened out that they meant for me to take a number 3 for a shirt, a jacket, and a pair of jeans, but that wasn't before several more chants.
Sidenote: Have you ever seen the jeans they sell at those stores? They come premade with holes and pee stains on them. Seriously, that's what they look like. I started making fun of them and the whole store loudly in front of another shopper. However, she didn't find it amusing and just gave me a mean look and walked away. I didn't mind what she thought though. I mean, who cares about the opinion of a lady who wears a nametag with a brand-name of the store she's shopping at?
Anyway, back to the story. So I took a number three and walked by the two girls. They told me I could choose any room I wanted, but all I saw were a bunch of curtains. I stepped between two of the curtains and tried to pull them in vain to conceal my soon-to-be mostly naked body. I gave that up and began to change, leaving an open gap between the curtains that anybody the size of Mr. Chambers could have easily fit through. During the entire time I was changing, I could hear the two girls at the door talking. I couldn't change in that situation! I mean, it's like...it's like...well, it's like something, anyway.
So I finally got changed and walked out of the dressing room. The two girls said I looked good even! I think that's the only reason they put girls there, to give insincere compliments to the insecure guys who try on clothes at those stores. I still haven't figured out why they put the pervert guys outside the girls' dressing room. I'm not even sure all those guys even worked there, but who am I to critisize volunteer work? You might even say they give new meaning to the term, "pro-boner". (I'm so sorry about that joke. It's crude and inappropriate, but it's just so clever I couldn't leave it out).
Well, I won the contest, but truely lost the war. I guess those stores aren't so bad. Besides, I think I'd really like bobsledding without a shirt and wearing nothing but a pair of tattered, pee-stained jeans. At least that's the feeling I got from the cashier lady as she handed me my change. I never realised how fast a checking account could empty. You learn something every day. My next method of income will surely replace all that I spent. But I'm a little worried about the stability of this job. I hear the authorities are cracking down on dressing room pervert's as it is.
Saturday, November 27, 2004
I first started putting the six in my name in seventh grade. Those were rough times. The steps I took to choose the number six were as follows:
I was going to choose a rational one-digit number as to save time in writing it. Narrowing it down to 1-9
In my opinion, the numbers 5-9 are the superior numbers in the base ten configuration.
I couldn't do number 8 because nate already spelt his name n8.
I couldn't do 9 because that's as high as it goes and I didn't want to appear stuck up.
I wanted it to be only one syllable, so 7 was out.
So it came between 5 and 6. I don't really know why I chose 6 then. I think it may have been because 5 is the kind of number those jerks guess when they're guessing a number between one and ten. What, do they think that just because 5 is in the middle they'll automatically win? It's been proven time and time again that this is true.
I didn't really start getting hassled that much about the 6 until ninth grade in German class. I was already very small and weak in spirit, and in the upper body, so I was an easy target for Mr. Chambers. He would go on for several class periods at a time ranting about how I needed to run around in the shower to get wet, or how if I turned sideways I'd be invisible. Once he found out about the 6 in my name the amount of ridicule he could place on me seemed limitless. But let me tell ya, Mr. Chambers got pretty dang close to that limit. Riemann would be proud.
You see, in German, the number 6 is spelled "sechs" and pronounced "sex". All the students knew this after we played battleship in class. For some reason, the space G6 was very popular and when called out initiated much laughter that would not stop for several weeks. Anyway, I think Mr. Chambers was a little confused about the concept of a silent 6 because he then began to just refer to me as "sex". I tried explaining to him that it was the six in my name that was silent and not the rest of my name but he would just look back down and keep rearranging the assortment of coke cans and gummy bears that were resting on his stomach.
Luckily I wasn't the only one that was ridiculed in that class. Mr. Chambers did get entertainment from just about everyone else's differences. Just about every day Wells Magleby's head would be bleeding pretty badly from Mr. Chamber's smacking it every time Wells twirled his hair. Sometimes even, for some reason, Kylen would join in the smacking and hit Wells even harder than Chambers did. Of course at this time I was doubled over on the floor rolling around uncontrollably. But that might have just been because of the old sauerkraut Chambers had fed to us earlier.
So I guess I didn't have that bad of a time in Chambers' class after all. I mean, Wells got hit in the head a bunch and all Mr. Chambers did to me was sit on me. The doctors say the pancake-body reversal surgery is sure to be a success.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Like today, we were putting together the news page in the Provo High Newspaper. Elein (my page editor), who has like 7 articles on the page already, won't let me even put in 3 sentences in addition to my one measley article. We got into a huge argument and I was using logic to prove my point. All she did was say, "Shut up", or "I'm a stupid moron!"
Finally, a fellow-logical person came to my rescue and supported my argument that she was being irrational. However, she just wouldn't give in. It made no sense. I mean, all the arguments ended up in my favor, but she wouldn't accept it. Anyway, I ended up doing some things that I'm not proud of to get my way. Oh crap, I just remembered I left my shoes at Elein's house. (Editor's note: This is extremely disgusting. Even though it is meant as a joke, DO NOT think about it too much. Or even at all. It will warp your mind)
I've noticed that there seems to be a majority of illogical morons in our society. I know this because I've dealt with countless processions of them.
Cast of Characters
Narrator: no costume needed, just a voice from nowhere.
Pilgrim #1: dressed as pilgrim (optional)
Pilgrim #2: dressed as pilgrim (optional)
Pilgrim #3: dressed as pilgrim (optional)
Muscular Pilgrim: dressed in football gear, speaks with an Austrian accent.
Indian: has some stereotypical Native American stuff on like headdress, feathers etc.
Irishman: Look-alike of the Lucky Charms leprechaun. Always has some sort of alcoholic beverage in his hand.
Act 1 Scene 1
Narrator: What you are about to witness is the actual events, which took place on November 25, 1621, when the first pilgrims broke bread with the Native Americans.
Muscular Pilgrim: Yeah, well I say Lord Palmerston was the greatest English Prime Minister!
Pilgrim #1: Pitt the Elder.
Muscular Pilgrim: angrily gets up from his seat. LORD PALMERSTON!!!
Pilgrim #1: stands up and pokes Muscular Pilgrim in the chest. PITT THE ELDER!!!
Muscular Pilgrim: All right, that’s it! You’re asking for it! Throws a football at Pilgrim #1 which knocks him over
Pilgrim #2: You showed him. Ha, mocking Pilgrim #1 Pitt the elder.
Muscular Pilgrim: LORD PALMERSTON!!! Throws a football at Pilgrim #2 which knocks him down too.
Pilgrim #1 and #2 get up and regain their composure.
Pilgrim #1: Why don’t we go around the table and say what we’re thankful for?
Pilgrim #2: Thank goodness we made it to the new world in our pursuit for the freedom we’ve always wanted: Freedom from cyborgs.
Indian: Incoherent yelling.
Pilgrim #1: Where did all those cyborgs come from anyway?
Muscular Pilgrim: Da Future!
Indian: Incoherent yelling.
Pilgrim #1: I’m thankful for this beautiful country that will forever remain uncorrupted.
Muscular Pilgrim: in an Austrian accent I’m zankful fur mein holiday classic, Jingle All ze Vay, vhich ist available at best buy.
Pilgrim #3: How about you, Stereotypical Native American? What are you thankful for?
Indian: (raises up a bottle of whiskey) Incoherent yelling
Irishman: also holding whisky Amen to that, lad! Pauses for a few seconds. I’ll show meself out.
Pilgrim #3: I’m just thankful that we got away from those snobby Austrian kids. Some of them even had their own ponies.
Pilgrim #2: I know, I hated those kids. In fact, I hate anyone who ever had a pony.
Muscular Pilgrim: angrily jumps up I hat a pony!
Awkward silence for a few moments
Pilgrim #2: …well, I didn’t really mean a pony per se.
Muscular Pilgrim: Vhen I vas ein little boy in Austria, ve all hat ponies. Mein sister hat pony, mein cousin hat pony. ..So, vhat's wrong mit dat?
Pilgrim #2: Nothing, nothing at all. I was just merely expressing… interrupted by Muscular Pilgrim.
Muscular Pilgrim: half crying He vas a beautiful pony! Und I loved him! Zen vun day he got stuck in ze mud. So I hat zu put three bullets in him.
Pilgrim #2: No, see, we didn't have ponies. I'm sure at the time in Austria, they were very common. They were probably like compact cars.
Muscular Pilgrim: What’s that supposed to mean?
Pilgrim #2: Whatever you want it to mean.
Muscular Pilgrim: stands up You saying that you want a piece of me?
Pilgrim #2: stands up I could drop you like a bag of dirt.
Muscular Pilgrim: You want a piece of me? YOU GOT IT!!!
Muscular Pilgrim charges at Pilgrim #2 and carries him offstage.
Pilgrim #1: I’m thankful that we only do this once a year.
Indian: Incoherent yelling.
Narrator: And that is the story of the first sober Irishman…I mean, Thanksgiving. Soon this yearly custom became an annual tradition that is now celebrated by, well, just about every non-Native American out there.
I don't understand it, but apparently several people were offended by this skit. Seriously. What's the deal with that? I guess they thought it was being racist against Native Americans, but the thing is that the actor portraying the Native American was, actually, a Native American himself. I mean, if an actual Native american is enthusiastic about it, what gives people who have no affiliation with Native Americans the right to get offended about it? I hate it when people get offended about stupid stuff. Just watch that one Seinfeld Episode where Jerry goes out with a Native American who gets offended really easily. It shows how ridiculous it is.
Provo High Budget: Hero or Menace?
As I was reaching for the last math book on the shelf, another hand grabbed the same book. That hand turned out to belong to Eric Petersen (or erp, as he prefers to be called). As I rained blows upon him, I began to contemplate how we had gotten in this situation in the first place. I then came to the conclusion that that blame should be placed squarely on the administration and their mishandling of the school budget.
However, the math department is not alone in this lack of budget. Recently, the tetherballs we have come to love have been replaced with cinder blocks due to the cost of tetherball maintenance being too high. In addition to this, it has been rumored that plans to demolish our beloved auditorium to make way for a mini-mall are in progress at this very moment.
“I’m sick of sharing books with Polacks,” said local coot Wells Magleby.
Aren’t we all sick of sharing books with Polacks? Indeed we are. I’m sorry to say that this is not the end of the devastation caused by an inadequate budget. The next atrocity I will mention is the closed campus rule. The administration has enforced this rule claiming that it is for the safety and well-being of the students. I have one question for them. Since when does the school care about students?
Now I’ll tell you the real reason for the closed campus rule. You see, when students are forced to eat at the school, those profits go directly to the principal. Actually the profits don’t go directly to the principal, but I’m pretty sure it ends up in his pocket in the end. Don’t be fooled by the bad haircut, the principal is exceedingly wealthy.
When asked about the closed campus rule, Trevor Richardson commented, “You know, the Nazis wouldn’t let the Jews leave campus during lunch.”
The principal also finds time each lunch period to go out and siphon gas out of your gas tanks. Most people blame the increasing amount of money we spend on gas on the Middle East. I blame it on Sam Ray. Mr. Ray may try to deny that this action ever takes place. If he ever tries this on you, just wave a match near his gasoline soaked mouth and I guarantee you he will run in terror. There are countless other ways the administration screws the students of Provo High, but I choose not get into them at this time. Won’t somebody please think of the children?!
Where has all the budget gone you ask. Several credible theories exist at this time. First of which is that Sam Ray lost the majority of the budget when he bet it all against the Harlem Globetrotters.
“I guess he just thought the Washington Generals were due,” commented Daylen Richardson when he was told about this theory.
When asked if this allegation was true, Sam Ray said, “Cocaine is a hell of a drug.”
Another theory that has come to my attention is that the school is still paying off debts they owe to the kid who broke his leg when the D-Wing collapsed for the second time. However, I doubt this could be responsible for all of Provo High’s budget problems because no student can sue the school for D-Wing related accidents (See fine print of the waiver every student signs). Those two theories seem to be supported the most so I find it of no use to mention any of the other theories. So is the Provo High budget solely controlled by the administration, which has no purpose but to keep the children of America poor and ignorant. This reporter says yes.
Amending the Constitution: Hero or Menace?
Recently, it has come to my attention that our own American constitution is not as concrete as everyone says it is. It has also come to my attention that the founding fathers (who, as it turns out, were neither founding nor fathers) made it legal to “amend” the constitution. These so called amendments are just ways for those capitalist fat-cats down in Washington to infringe on our God-given rights. I intend to prove this throughout the course of this article.
Through my research on this subject, I have obtained the actual convention, presided over by George Washington, which occurred during the creation of the constitution. Here is an excerpt from that meeting:
Washington: So we’re all in agreement that Thomas Jefferson’s wife is a fox?
All murmur in agreement.
Adams: …and a demon in the sack.
Jefferson: Oh, you heard about that?
Washington: Okay, the taxpayers are paying us up the yin-yang so we probably should do some work here.
Tables are thrown over and several storm out of the room before order is restored.
Washington: We need to find a way to be able to marry our attractive cousins.
Chef Boy-ar-dee: Why don’t we just make a law that makes those marriages legal.
Washington: Because that law would be unconstitutional. But if we changed the constitution…
Chef Boy-ar-dee: …we could make all sorts of crazy laws!
Washington: Now you’re on the trolley!
And thus the amendments were born. The founding fathers then created the first ten amendments, which is now called the “Bill of Rights.” After being enlightened on the subject, I have come to call it “The Bill of Wrongs.” Don’t get me wrong, because I’m all for the purpose of these amendments, I just think some people don’t understand the purpose of these amendments. For example, I have recently been told that some government officials consider robbing a bank to be unlawful. I was just exercising my fourth amendment rights (The fourth amendment is about search and seizure, by the way). I was searching for money, and I found it in the bank. I then proceeded to seize the money when a policeman rudely tackled me stole my firearm. Which brings me to my next point. The second amendment (the right to bear arms) has been getting a lot of undeserved guff lately. What people don’t understand is that if we weren’t allowed to have guns, the King of England could come right into our school and start pushing us around. Do you want that? All right then.
Those tree-huggin’ environmentalists have gone way too far when they tried to abolish civilian-owed assault rifles. We need those automatic weapons to hunt the appropriately named super-predators. Such as the electric eel, and the flying squirrel.
It seems nowadays, the only people who support our second amendment are the Hillbillies (or Sons of the Soil as they prefer to be called). I know this because every time I go into a trailer park (a natural breeding ground for Hillbillies), there is at least one small child carelessly waving a gun in the air or at least cleaning their ear out with the barrel of a handgun. I salute that child, as should every true American. The way I see it, the only problem with the gun-supporters is that one hundred percent of them believe it is mandatory to have sleeveless shirts in order to own a gun. It may have something to do with the misspelling of the word “bear”, in the amendment, but nothing has been proven so far.
But enough about the Bill of Wrongs. What really honks my hooter is how obvious it is that the Prohibition amendment was not enforced even in congress. The evidence of this are the two amendments which immediately follow the Prohibition amendment. One of which is the Lame Duck amendment. I’m pretty sure that this amendment requires all ducks to wear long pants. I see no problem with this amendment except that congress failed to include instructions on what can be considered long pants or if a belt should be required with the poultriotic ensemble. Therefore, I believe that congress had to be a little hung over when they made this amendment.
The other is for Women’s suffrage. Okay, I admit it, I have no idea what suffrage means. But if you take the word apart, the definition reveals itself. Okay, first there’s su. That sounds like an acronym for some kind of university, possibly Scranton University. Then there’s an ff. Double letters usually aren’t important so we’ll omit those. Then there’s rage. So the way I see it, the amendment for Women’s Suffrage makes it legal for all women at Scranton University to exhibit raw rage (or possibly grilled or deep-fried rage, but I digress). Congress had to be hopped up on goofballs to make such a preposterous amendment. For one thing, why would congress choose a university like Scranton? Why didn’t they choose a fine school like Brown University? But no matter, the Prohibition amendment was soon repealed and our congress went back to legally making laws while intoxicated like good ol’ George Washington intended.
The most recent amendment has to do with Congressional Pay Raises. I have no problem with this amendment. I mean, congress has been embezzling money from us taxpayers for years. At least now they aren’t trying to hide it anymore. This amendment signifies that although the government is continuing to screw us, everyone has accepted it. I am just glad to know that we have become one nation, under the almighty dollar, with liberty and justice for no one.
Monday, November 15, 2004
Man, I feel like such a pansy starting out my blog with, "Dear Blog". Am I saying that right? Pansy? Anyway, I had an awesome experience in U.S. History today. I actually got a couch question right! I knew the answer because it was basically the same question that Luke Heperi answered right to beat me in the Westridge geography bee. That made me so mad, but through this couch question I delivered my revenge. I don't know how, but I did. Who am I kidding? Of course I got my revenge. Just look how Luke turned out and you'll see that I am obviously the more successful one. Well, maybe not. But a friend of mine is definitely more successful than Luke. Yeah, that's not true either. But you can imagine what it would be like if they were, right? Right? ANSWER ME!!!
The couch ended up being overrated anyway. Mr. Smith put our notes on the board while I was sitting on the couch and I had to keep straining my neck just to find out that the cherokee Indians were jerks. Oh yeah, that reminds me, I need to degrade ERP alot more because of that. I think he's like a ten thousandth cherokee. And plus I couldn't lay down on the couch because stephanie troumbley was sitting on it too. As much as it sounds like it, that was not very kinky at all. In fact, because I couldn't lay down my head kept falling backwards, I repetitively hit my head against the wall behind the couch. The doctor said I might have brain damage. That's enough blogging for now. It's time for me to go to that building thingie where my bed and t.v. is.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Here's the yadda yadda:
So we're getting ready to bowl and Boo suggests that we make some sort of bet on the game. It seemed that everyone else was hesitant about it so I, of all people, seconded the idea. Seeing as none of us had any money, we decided that the terms of the bet would be that whoever won got to make the loser do whatever the winner wanted. Again, being the dimwit that I am, I seconded it. At this point I thought for sure that I wouldn't even have anything to do with the end result of the bet. I mean, what are the chances that I would either be the best or worst bowler out of everyone there? Next to zero. Once again, the principles of statistics have screwed me.
I've figured it out now what happened but at the time I had no idea. You see, Boo was actually sabotaging me throughout the entire game. She even, at one point, tricked me into distracting Trevor (her only real competition) on his turn. Meanwhile, she grabbed a ball and threw it in the gutter thus drastically affecting his score for the worse. This one act changed the whole outcome of the game.
So anyway, Boo ended up winning and by some fluke I lost. At this point I just wanted to get the bet over with as easily and quietly as possible. I looked at Boo and she gave me the evil eye. I knew it was gonna be bad. I haven't done it yet, but probably this week I'm going to have to stand on a street corner, wearing a dress and holding a sign that probably says something degrading. Well, I knew that at some point in my life I would be walking around in public wearing women's clothing, I just didn't think that it was going to happen so soon. I'm sure the press is going to have a field day with it too.
I just don't understand how the bet could've backfired like that. I mean, it even says in the Bible that betting is okay. Where does it say that in the Bible you ask? um...somewhere in the back. But the point is that, once again, after I've finally gathered the tattered remains of my reputation which had been ruined from my last public humiliation, someone makes me go and do something like this. AND TOTALLY REDEEM MYSELF!!!
Anyway, boo, if you're reading this, no hard feelings. But I hope you know that this means war.
Friday, November 12, 2004
So anyway, I was using a summation (you know, the whole sigma thing) to figure out the exact value of pi the other day and verifying my results with my TI 89 Titanium. And that's when it hit me. I've become one of those people who everyone makes fun of who usually wear thick glasses and tuck their shirt into their underwear. I feel so embarrassed about what I've become. I'm so ashamed. I mean, how could I have even thought to use a summation to find pi when it could've saved countless hours of computation if I had thought to use an integral instead. I'm sure I'm gonna get a lot of guff from Winston when I tell him all about it on monday. Using a summation? What was I thinking!?
Today it was really awkward when I went to get a free soda for being on the honor roll. Last year, they had Mr. Chambers running it. He'd tell some dirty jokes to me in front of a bunch of preppy girls and I would then hide my face in shame and humiliation (Mostly just to conceal my laughter). It was awesome! But this year Chambers is gone and has been replaced by the administration. At this moment I'm in a pretty unpleasant position with two thirds of the administration (not in that way, you sickos). I would not like to elaborate on the exact circumstances on which I got into this position, (again, I understand the joke. It's not funny anymore) but just note that the last occurrence dealing with the administrators and me was that I had to write a letter of apology to the principal. As I approached the table to claim my soda, they mentioned the letter.
Administrator lady: That letter you wrote really blew him (the principal) away
My thoughts: I'll blow YOU away!
Principal: without looking up Yeah, it did.
Now, what am I supposed to do here? Do I nod approvingly? Do I stand with quiet reverence? Do I grab their entire stock of bumper stickers and frisbees? Indeed, I wish I had done the latter. What I actually did was just stand in front of them with a confused look on my face as though I had no idea what they were talking about and eventually said, "oh, thanks." I said nothing else but only pointed to the soda I wanted. What was I doing!?! I was basically thanking him for all the crap I had to go through because of him this week and moreover, this year!
I guess it looks like my reign of terror is finally coming to a halt. One thing's for sure. If I go down, I don't care if I bring shame upon my entire family and furthermore, anyone who has ever met me, I'm not going down without a fight.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
One of these outspoken morons of which I speak is Tyler "Eats his own Stool" Olsen. The masses of idiots worship him most likely because of the his discovery of an alternative to, in their view, the much too intricate and time-consuming action of wiping. He's always just saying the dumbest things in class just to be have a different view than, say, someone who knows what they're talking about. Then he tries to prove what he says by saying something that completely opposes what he said in the first place. He's a moron, but because he has the majority of the "squishy pants" crowd on his side, he is allowed to go on ranting about crap. Here's an example of a typical day in class:
Mr. Smith: Today we're going to talk about the U.S. constitution.
Tyler: I hate the constitution!
Mr. Smith: And why is that?
Tyler: Well, uh... (pauses for several minutes)... Because I think uh... I think everyone should be equal!
several murmur in agreement
Usually at this point in class I've given up on learning anything new and proceed to mutter empty threats under my breath.
Another idiot in my class would be Taylor Austin, one of the infamous identical Austin triplets. The other two thirds of this notorious trio consist of Makelle and a cross between an ape-man and a giant squid. Taylor's comments are equally stupid to Tyler's, but the difference is that her's don't even have anything to do with anything. Can somebody please tell me what doing a sumbersault has to do with checks and balances!?!
I did say there were few exceptions to this rule that everyone in that class is an idiot. You know who you are, and I salute you as I would salute a sanitary pair of boxers run up the flagpole.