the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
12.26.2003
Best. Winterbreak. Ever.
Are you asking yourself, "Now, how good exactly is this 'Best. Winterbreak. Ever.'?"
Well, let me tell you.
My computer completely frizzle-fried two days after I returned home from college.
To counteract this tragedy, I went out with T. for some cathartic holiday shopping.
The mall was completely coagulated with ugly loud children, disgruntled old people in saggy sweaters, and fat angry mothers.
Nothing was accomplished, as is the usual case when it's only a few days before Christmas.
So after this fun outing at the horrible mall,
1. after I had some of T.'s ice cream,
2. after T. coughed and sneezed on me throughout the night,
3. after T. breathed heavily and laboriously in my face for a prolonged period of time,
the morning following this experience, I woke up at 2am by the sound of my own voice saying out loud in agony, "UGHHHH. SOMEONE KILL ME."
T., your friend and mine, who told me the next day that:
1. he has an ear infection and
2. his sister and her boyfriend both have stomach viruses and
3. he threw up that morning
predictably, had infected me with his disgusting germs.
Thanks. Thanks a lot.
After finally recovering from my sudden illness by sleeping through most of the past two days, Christmas was anything but spectacular --
My mom, surrounded by scented candles and cheesy ornaments from her co-workers, was pissing and moaning about the fact that we didn't get her billions of dollars in gold, diamonds, and pinky rings and the royal crown encrusted with jewels that she was apparently expecting from us. (Perhaps if I send myself off as a high-end mail-order bride, we will one day be able to afford such expected Christmas gifts for her.)
My dad once again played the role of "buyer of things that no one will ever use" and unveiled his purchases of WaterPiks and showerheads.
My brother revealed his big holiday buy: a corkscrew.
I got four "Merry Christmas, are you still alive?" calls throughout the day, one from a horrible crazy stalker, another from a different less-crazy stalker, then from someone awesome, then from T., my bacterial assailant.
The latter two of which were nice.
But all of the potential nice factors are completely negated by the fact that in less than six hours, I have to go get four teeth pulled out of my fucking face.
The staff at the dining halls here is full of sexual frustration.
The workers are predominantly male, hispanic, and stricken with lust and desire.
Here is a conversation I had with the young man who stir-fried my tofu tonight.
His name is Rigeau.
(He is "R," and I am "P"... retard.)
R: So tell me, why you look so happy?
P: Uh--
R: -- I am going home tomorrow. You are, too?
P: Um, yeap.
R: I have four weeks off. I am going to all different states. Massachusetts, Florida.. everywhere. You?
P: I'm going home. In Jersey.
R: You will visit me tomorrow before you leave? I will be over there. (points to sandwich counter)
P: Uh--
::silence except for sound of frying tofu::
R: You want hot pepper?
P: Okay.
R: You like it spicy then? Me too. You are just like me. Good, good.
P: Heh heh...
::silence except for sound of frying tofu::
R: I can cook for you... all day... every night. P: .... What?
::silence except for sound of frying tofu::
R: I will miss you.
With that statement, he handed me my bowl of tofu and rice. As I walked away (in my rushed state, I almost ran into a man carting away a huge stack of dirty glasses), I saw him turn to another worker, elbow him, and make "Eh? Eh?" motions towards me. The other worker nodded.
WHAT?
Judging from the fatness, unattractiveness, and thickly mustached-ness of the female employees here, I'd say that these men are dying to get a piece of comparatively hot college student ass around here.
And judging by some of these slutty freshmen girls -- who are too giggly, obnoxiously loud, and have huge, gross hair (on their heads, and often, on their asses as well) -- it's only a matter of time.
So there is a girl who is friends with friends of T., who is a nice gal with a pretty tragic story.
This girl, at some point, had sworn off giving blowjobs completely when she had a bad experience of, well, not being too ... "effective" at giving one to a special manfriend of hers.
What I mean is, he was limp as a dishrag, her morale was crushed, and she vowed to be completely blowjob free from that point on.
Then, apparently, she had a rather drunken encounter with another special manfriend, and he was having some troubles getting a stiffy -- yes, where the pampers is.
So temporarily, in the name of stiffies, she cast her aforementioned promise aside and went at it...
Wednesday morning, I awoke to the sounds of someone banging loudly on my dorm room and a man shouting.
Fearing warnings of a blazing fire or a wild gunman loose somewhere in our residence hall, I threw open the door and poked my head out.
One of the maintenance men was going from door to door, knocking and yelling at all of us to check to see if our toilets were working okay.
I was hit by a sinking feeling in my stomach as events from Tuesday night slowly reformed in my memory.
Upon peeling a tangerine and realizing it was really old and disgusting, I looked at my exercise buddy and fellow pseudo-intellectual, Ed, who was hanging out at my room at the time, "LET'S FLUSH IT DOWN THE TOILET!!"
One of us (until the plumbing matter has been settled, I'm not going to say WHO did it -- but let's just say Ed and I were present, and Ed did NOT do it) immediately threw the rogue fruit down the toilet and let 'er rip.
Unexcitingly enough, it shot down the pipes free and clear.
Or so I thought.
So back to Wednesday morning--
After I was awakened by the maintenance guy's knocking and yelling, I went back to sleep, and 20 minutes later, was jarred awake by even more knocking and yelling.
"I know I bothered you before, but just MAKE SURE it works, okay?" he said, staring at my chest.
"Okay. What's going on?" I inquired, suddenly realizing that my nipples were probably poking through my t-shirt.
"All of the water upstairs is going crazy. None of the toilets are working up there," he answered, eyes still affixed.
Shit, I thought. Shit.
My tangerine flushing had somehow gotten stuck in one of the pipes, and shut down the water all throughout my residence hall!!! All 15 floors!
I gave my throne a test flush. My toilet worked fine. I told him so. He left.
Ed told me later that day that they'd probably trace the tangerine back to my dorm because I would probably be the only person who suspiciously said that my toilet was functioning fine.
Crap!
I thought other people's water would be working fine, too, and that only a few people's toilets would be broken.
But the dry erase board on the door of my next door neighbors said in big, bold, markered words:
"I HATE OUR CONTINUOUSLY FLUSHING TOILET BOWL."
I hate to take the role of a Catholic school nun teacher with a ruler in hand as my ruling (pun?!) iron fist, but it's very, very ironic to me that people who apologize for their poor grammar more often than not misspell "grammar" as "grammer."
i.e.:
"I have bad grammer."
"Sorrie guyz I got badd grammer!!"
"Shutup and fuck yher mom i got bad grammer."
Maybe you should apologize for your poor spelling, too.
As far as I'm concerned, the only "Grammer" anyone should be apologizing for is Kelsey Grammer of the NBC sitcom, Frasier.
My Friday night was spent helping T. babysit his 8 and 11 year old cousins, named Ryan and Tim.
Both of them are on a ridiculous amount of medication.
Here's some highlights.
- Ryan (pulling open the radiator): I'm going to set things on FIRE!!!
- Tim (kicking Ryan in the head): YOU GODDAMN BITCH! YOU FUCK!
- Ryan (kicking the door that connects to the room next door): HELLO??!?! YOU'D BETTER OPEN THIS DOOR BECAUSE IT'S OUR HOUSE!!! (It was a hotel room, remember.) YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!! OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!!!!
- Ryan trying to knock the television to the floor.
- Ryan (pulls off his pants and his boxers and grabs his 8 year old penis): I'M GOING TO PEE ON EVERYONE!
- Ryan (pulls down boxers and grabs his buttcheeks): I'm going to do that one trick... and everything's going to smell bad!!
- Ryan: YOU WHORE!!! YOU'RE A FUCKING WHORE!!!
The whole night was spent watching horrible cartoons, watching the boys pummel each other's faces, playing Go Fish, Old Maid, War, and Gin Rummy card games, and physically restraining Ryan from running out into the hallway, naked, and screaming....
It was a lot of fun.
And by "a lot of fun," I mean I wanted to kill myself at many times during that night.
I felt bad not helping T. out more with those crazy kids, but halfway through the night, I was so exhausted that I pretended to be sleeping (which would have been virtually impossible, since the boys were screaming and poking me in the face the entire time), and secretly wished that I were dead instead of having to deal with them.
So I went to T.'s cousin's wedding today.
His family is awesome.
Here are some wedding highlights:
- The waiter shucking oysters for h'oers deoveures turned to me, smiling, and said in a very swarthy voice, "Selected. Straight from the warmth of my heart."
- The lady sitting next to me (next door neighbor of the bride's mother) striking up a conversation throughout the entire dinner about topics such as: Her son's college experience (he graduated 10 years ago); getting me an internship at her Visiting Nurses Association (I do not want to be a nurse); the bride's mother's hair and outfit; how someone she knows has impaired vision; premature births causing vision problems; learning the Japanese language; and, of all things, infant blindness.
- Dancing to terrible 80's music.
- Watching old people dance to terrible 80's music.
- Dancing in the coat racks.
- Headbutting T.'s sister's elbow with my eye (I cried a little :( ).
And now that it's 3:00 in the morning, I must retire.
Goodnight.
Some of you may have noticed from the little squid guys on the left that I am a huge fan of Nintendo's Super Mario Brothers, namely Super Mario Brothers 3.
Anyway.
I'm sure many of you have seen this already, but czech this shit out!
SOME GUY (predictably a crazy Asian guy) BEATS SUPER MARIO BROS 3 IN ELEVEN MINUTES.
[Peek-a-Foo]
