the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
5.25.2003
Over-priced Mediocrity
There was a poster in the hallway in school that said something along the lines of the following:
Junior Cruise... $150
Senior Prom... $200
Having a fun time with your friends... Priceless.
It was covered with glue-on sparkles and smiley faces, a lukewarm effort to copy the Mastercard commercials (which weren't very funny in the first place).
But more significantly, the poster wasn't very accurate, either.
It should have gone more like something like so:
Prom bids... $170
Prom dress... $200
Hairdo... $50
Tux... $103
Limo... $240
Corsage and Boutonniere... $37
Mysterious miscellaneous items... $200
Having a mediocre time with people that I never talked to in four years of high school... $1000. Fecking. Dollars.
Though I have to admit that the prom wasn't too bad, T-bone and I could have easily done without the enormous 1-grand hole-in-the-pocket.
What was it that made this "momentous occasion" worth the lump sum of money?
The slimy mushroom hors-d'oeuvres?
Was it the quasi-gourmet food swimming in gravy?
The eyesore of nearly naked unattractively large girls with big hair?
The boys quite possibly wearing the suits they wore for their Bar Mitzvahs 5 years ago?
I'm not sure myself.
What made it worse was the shoddy ambience as well.
Apparently, the theme of music the DJ played was "obscure dance songs from the mid-90's."
I could have sworn there were a few Ace of Base and La Bouche songs mixed in.
And strangely enough, our prom song was some crappy 30-second instrumental from the Beatles.
The Beatles?
What is this, the 1960's?
The redeeming factor was the extended weekend we get because of prom.
However, my parents managed to ruin that for me as well.
I was supposed to stay at New York for the three-day weekend, but I discovered that my mom is not above faking a heart attack to prevent me from going.
Yes, she actually faked chest pains and heart palpitations for three days until I finally told her that I wasn't going.
But the modified daytrip to NYC yesterday wasn't too bad.
Shane and the assalicious Jess, T-bone, and I had a great time at a Bistro place around St. Mark's with a pint-sized waiter wearing "mussel-juice"-drenched pleated pants.
It's a long story, but there was an ant in the bread.
That's all I'm saying.
Words of advice for people who want to see the Matrix sequel:
1. Cover your eyes
2. Cover your mouth
Here are explanations:
1. It sucked donkey balls.
Avert your eyes from the cliched love scenes, the Flinstones-esque visuals, and most of all, Trinity's horribly old, wrinkled, baggy face mashing against Neo's.
2. It is courteous to hold in vomit until you have exited the theater.
One of the most popular chinese food dishes is General Tzo's Chicken.
I myself have enjoyed many a paper carton full of this sticky delight, although I refuse to order it out loud from a menu, since I have absolutely no idea how to pronounce it.
On the more western front, the forerunner of the fast food chicken industry is, of course, Kentucky Fried Chicken, known on the street as KFC.
So in a showdown, an all-out bareknuckled fistfight, no gloves, no pinkie rings, who would win?
Colonel Sanders or General Tzo?
The answer:
This was actually a trick question.
COLONEL SANDERS AND GENERAL TZO ARE ONE AND THE SAME.
Not only are they both in the military with a flair for cooking chicken, czech out this most compelling visual evidence.
Please ignore the ancient caucasian man on the left.
He is obviously an impostor.
YOU CAN'T FOOL ME!
As you can see from the two pictures above, the cartoon depictions of Sanders/Tzo are very, very oriental.
The features of both are very much Asian.
Slanty eyes, large glasses, and a fluffy white beard should be enough evidence alone to persuade you.
I actually have no real pictures of General Tzo.
However, a Google Search for "old Chinese man" proved to be most helpful.
Therefore, the following are pictures of "old Chinese men" who look like what I believe General Tzo looked like.
These man are obviously General Tzo.
As well as Colonel Sanders.
And last but not least, just for kicks:
Here is Colonel Harland Sanders/General Tzo, sucking the lifeblood from a fresh energy source.
Well, for the most part, my AP tests are over.
All I have left is Psychology for next Tuesday, and we all know how big of a joke THAT class is.
All through this past week or two, I've been going a little crazy, flipping through papers, books, notes..
There's papers, empty bottles of water, cups, plates, books, pencils, and clothes all over my floor.
My room is a mess.
This morning, I tripped over my piggy bank, tried to get to my desk to type this, and am currently doing so, with my foot inside of a cup.
My room smells like chocolate soy milk and newspapers.
Don't worry, chicos, I have another QUALITY (re: horrendously stupid) post coming up soon.
This afternoon, my subdomain as well as Phil's entire site was not working.
A few minutes ago, I was going to post a question on my comments section, to ask you all if you had been experiencing any downtime in any of the above.
It was then that I realized that my comments section was not working.
Lately, it seems that the big question around here is
"So. Where are you going to college?"
which is supplemented by further, more annoying inquiries about majors, campuses, tuition..
The best things to do in this situation, I've found, is to either:
1. Pretend that you didn't hear anything,
2. Start crying/throwing up/peeing on them (it's a surprise every time!), or
3. Punch them in the stomach and run away.
Of course, use these suggestions with caution, especially when directed towards parents or teachers.
However, these constant interrogations have forced me to involuntarily evaluate my life, my career goals, and my future.
After many harrowing hours of contemplating what I want to do with my life, I realized that I have absolutely no aspirations to do anything.
I feel as listless, apathetic, and bored as those dumb stoner kids on those Anti-Drugs commercials.
The one thing that I realized, though, is that I want to be cool when I'm old.
Not "cool" as in "hip" or "happening" or "freshjive," but I want to be completely insane and creepy.
I'm going to be the type that's always peering out the windows suspiciously, shaking canes at little kids, lacing my Halloween candy with PCP and LSD..
It's going to be awesome.
My role model is the insane cat lady from The Simpsons..
For those of you who happen to be uninformed ignoramuses, in one particular episode, Lisa goes to her house to interview her for a kid's news show.
The Cat Lady comes out of her house, her body completely covered in cats, screaming insanely.
She runs towards Lisa, still yelling incoherently, and starts throwing the cats at her.
[Peek-a-Foo]
