Thursday, October 30, 2008
"Paper Towns" John Green
"The Book Thief" Markus Zuzak
"Let it Snow" John Green, Maureen Johnson, Lauren Myracle"
"We Thought You Would Be Prettier" Laurie Notaro
Saturday, October 25, 2008
I wish I could blame my fever on the movie I saw this morning. I wish I could say, "Oh, I wasn't feeling my best and wasn't able to resist." But sadly, none of that is true. I was just fine this morning when my friend called me and asked me to go to a movie with him. I was all for seeing "W" which I was hoping would be a good excuse to make fun of George Bush for two hours. Instead he decided that we would be seeing "High School Musical 3: Senior Year". At first I put up a bit of resistance. But then I figured I could just spend two hours whispering to him that anyone else in theater that was old enough to work a search engine had see Vanessa Hudgens vagina. That was enough to get me through purchasing the ticket at the very least. I also figured if nothing else I could count the times that Disney tried to subvert the minds of eight year old girls by showing Zac Efron's nipples (in case you were wondering the number is three.)
I'd like to say I hated it, but in reality it wasn't that bad. It was a sparkling look at what a cold and calculating company like Disney can turn high school into. I'm not exactly sure what there reference point for those four years was, but it was nothing like my experiences. I wish for once someone could make a movie about a high school experience that got close to getting it right. First of all no one dances and sings in the hallways (Well that wasn't exactly true for me, but I'm unpredictable like that.) But most importantly I wish someone would realize that the loserish kid never becomes attractive and fucks the hot girl. It never happens, ever. As far as I know it will never happen except for maybe after college when that loser makes his first million and that hot girl does him in hopes to get a free pair of new boobs. But I mean honestly who do they think they're kidding with this shit? They are setting up nine year olds everywhere for disappointment.
I've got to be honest my fever is really setting in now, I completely forgot where I was even going with this train of thought. Whatever.
Monday, October 13, 2008
- Never grocery shop on an empty stomach or you'll find yourself with twelve packs of Little Debbie snack cakes, and fourteen pounds of T.G.I.F. frozen quesadilla roll ups. Which of course is a satisfying diet for a crack addict but maybe not one for someone who could probably stand to lose a few nine hundred pounds like myself.
- Always wait thirty minutes after eating before swimming. Otherwise you will more than likely sink to your death, and as you drown instead of having your life flash before your eyes all you will see is that roasted chicken leg with a side of mashed potatoes that you just consumed.
- Never drink dairy products with seafood. I'm not sure if this one is actually true or if my parents just paraded it around as such because if you think of it, it really is an awful combination. And I'm sure when I'm a parent I'll say the same because there's no way I'm cleaning up fish sticks and 2% milk out of the new berber carpets me and the future wife just had installed last month. Actually come to think of it I doubt I'll ever serve my children fish sticks, because they are in fact disgusting.
But oddly enough no one ever mentioned the food rule that could potentially cause me bodily harm some two decades later when I go to donate blood for the second time in that last three months. No one said, Jordan make sure you eat a hearty meal beforehand or you will more than likely pass out. Actually, come to think of it my parents didn't say anything about me donating my platelets other than the fact that they think the thought of giving up your blood to someone else is horrible. I swear my mother acts as if instead of helping someone with my precious O positive I'm going to the LifeShare office to get free heroin.
But I digress no one told me of the unforeseen perils of donating without eating. So six hours later I'm still feeling nauseous, and dizzy. And in the haze of my low blood sugar I just cannot help but feel like something isn't right in my world. I feel like I'm always getting knocked down, and just as I pick myself up again someone throws a discarded banana peel from a 1920's vaudeville act under me, and I'm back on the ground. Sometimes it feels like the world is trying to show in dominance over me by humping my leg like an oversexed German Sheppard.
Actually that raises an interesting point right there. Have you ever actually seen two dogs have sex? First of all it's disgusting, but also it's hilarious. Because it's almost never two dogs of roughly the same size. No it's always this Rosie O' Donnell sized mammoth of a dog humping the ever living shit out of a Olsen twin sized one. But beyond that, the one doing the heavy thrusting usually always has the audacity to lose interest half way through and starts to look bored. You can almost see the motherfucker pantomime looking at his watch to check the time, it is ridiculous.
But that is exactly how I feel the universe has been treating me lately. So I just want the universe to know that yes, I get it. You are the alpha male, I don't need you to dry hump my leg or pee on me to mark your territory. I get it, you are in total control. you will decide if I have a bad day, or an amazing day, or if I die tomorrow. It is all up to you, and I am just a mere pawn in your bigger plan. I am simply a mere peasant trying to run amok in your playground and I'm sorry for that. I will try not to get in your way any longer. I will step aside and let you do your dirty to me as long as you can make me a promise that soon this will all stop. That one day soon I will be able to stand up once and for all and have no fear of being knocked back down again. So if you swear that eventually that will happen for me, you can get your rocks off on me as often as you like. Just promise not to do it on my favorite pair of jeans. I'd imagine dog semen is hard to get out of denim.
Editor's Note: I have no idea how I went from the rules of donating blood to talking about dog sex. So please just excuse me on that one, won't you?
Monday, October 06, 2008
Someone owes me eight dollars.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Yesterday I spent thirty two dollars on an abysmal lunch of sushi. This lunch was served by a guy whose house I once went to, where we discussed him passing out and cumming in his pants.
I spent the night with my sister discussing the getaway scene in "The Sound of Music", Reba Mcentire's dwindling vocal range, and the benefits of Tina Fey impersonating Sarah Palin.
I broke my ipod this morning, and am fighting with apple to get it replaced. From now on October the fourth will be referred to as the day the music died.
I miss my best friend something fierce-like. Sometimes you don't realize what a good thing you've got going on until it doesn't live across the street for nine months out of the year.
I am badly in need of a haircut. It's getting to the point that someone needs to physically restrain me and bring out the scissors as I writhe and scream protests.
Yesterday I went to Sonic, and didn't tip the not so attractive waitress a dime. Tonight I went to get a cherry limeade and tipped the very attractive waitress four dollars. I cannot believe I'm that guy.
Because I'm writing a list on why I'm a hot mess, instead of trying to do anything productive with my life. Goddamnit.