Emergency Update

Okay, I understand that I've already broken my promise to you in terms of consistency with this bitch. In my defense, I'm in school and have things going on. Good things are happening, though. I'm in a web design class and it's likely (when I use that word, it usually means there's about a one in four chance of it happening) that I'll write my own code for this page and it'll be totally revamped. That'll take time and awesome, but I should be able to find both of those if I set my mind to it.

I'm taking a web design class (so I feel even more important than you now) and part of it involves making a web page. Here's a link to that page. It's about as interesting as women's sports right now, but I'm hoping that by midterms it's at least as captivating as a sci-fi b-movie or a cute animal. I'm so cool that I almost know how to use div tags. Behold my l337 5k!llz.


MORE THINGS
On top of school, I recently got hired at a local coffee shop. Which means more work for me. This will either lead to me being more productive due to more responsibility, or I'll just continue being slightly too irresponsible. I'll keep you updated. Maybe.

My upcoming blog posts are likely to be less related to getting drunk and more related to sober me. I'm not apologizing; I'm letting you know. The name of the blog, after all, involves drinking and my life. So, you could at least try to act like you're interested in me. Ass.


Sorry again for the belatedness. Not sorry for the made-up word. Another post to follow within the next eventually. Suck my balls. Like my Facebook page. Love me.

I'll love you back. Intimately.

July 4th = Fire and Alcohol

Independence day was intended to remind all of the Americans that we succeeded in freeing ourselves from the stupid people with bad teeth all those years ago. Through the ages, we've managed to turn it into a nation-wide party where everyone ingests ethanol in close proximity to fire. We are clearly demonstrating how well we're doing. Sadly, our grossly irresponsible behavior was dulled in comparison to our state and federal governments. But none of you care about that.

Teh Partee
One of my friends held his annual Fourth of July party on July 2nd and I felt obligated to go and perform my shit show. He privately funds his own fireworks show that is easily better than the show put on by the city. I showed up midway through the show, Mega Buddy cup in-hand. This was roughly the contents of the cup -- I call it the Ginny Weasley:

I'm probably underestimating the amount of gin in there. All I know is that by the end of the night I had drank a half liter of it, was puking violently and incapable of walking on my own.

Drunk Dials
I've never liked phones, mainly because I have a habit of destroying them (I had my phone replaced just over a day ago, I don't even have service on it yet, and I've both dropped and thrown it), but also because I hate connectivity [he said as he blogged]. Anyway, after I got all toasty I called two people, one encouraged me to drink more and I blame her for all of my puke, the other was my brother to whom I appeared to open up to a bit too much. This quote from me was his status on facebook the next day:

Honestly. Honestly. Honestly. If I had the choice, I would be bisexual. But I don't have the choice. Ughhhhh I might puke soon. I'm sitting down and oh god I'll call you back bye.

Most of that night is pretty blurry, but I guess Trenton was waiting for me to get off the phone so we could leave when another of our friends shouted out, "Found him!" I was, allegedly, face-planted in the opening of the barn with my ass in the air* and my face and shoulders firmly pressed against the gravel. After finally leaving, I hung my head out of the window for the whole fifteen-minute ride back and, once we got to McDonald's drive through, I puked one last time.

I really don't think anyone was surprised with how this turned out.

*Don't criticize me for the hentai. It's not my fault good songs have backgrounds that are completely inappropriate.

What the Angels Listen To: Recirc

Going back to how much I love Dubstep, I have a collection of favorites on YouTube and I feel it is only fair that I share this with my faithful readers. Here it is:
Filthy Dirty (Like Mexico)

This is not the post I promised within the next week.
On the other hand, if I get too lazy, I will claim this was the post I was talking about. Here's a picture of me shirtless:

Huh, I never realized my nipples are that perky.

Mid-Summer Update

I'd say that I owe you all an apology for not updating in a long-ass time, but I specifically said that something like this would happen already. Instead, I tell you "you're welcome" for the heads up. I'm pretty damn kind.
The lack of update has been for a few reasons - partly from being busy and partly from a lack of muse. In this downtime (hereby referred to as "The Darkness")a friend of mine sent me a motivational and kind of insulting quote from Ira Glass that made me decide a few things. Most relevant to you, my faithful readers, is that I'm making a promise to make at least one new post a month. It's not very often, but it's the minimum frequency I will allow myself. This comes with the promise that each post will be pretty awesome.

Moving On
As I'm typing this, I've noticed that a lot of the helpful things this blog-creator had are now gone, which means I'll have to brush up on my HTML usage. But that's irrelevant.

This summer I started working at a glass factory near my town. It pays well, and I've spent probably 2/3 of what I've earned so far on a house that I'm not living in this summer. I'm excellent at planning ahead. The job isn't that bad, but if there's one thing that will make you realize how important it is to graduate, it's factory work. I'm fine doing this now but if I'm still moving glass in three years I'm going to resort to a life of crime.

What I do, exactly, is this: I take large pieces of glass (6' x 12' at some points, but it can get larger or smaller (that's what he said)) and pick them up with The Manipulator, which everyone calls a hoist and thereby ruins half the fun of using it, and then put it on a line where people make it better, or something. I've had two pretty cool things happen so far. One was that I got to work on windows that will be put into the Freedom Towers, which debatably makes me even more cool than a war vet. I also had the privilege of seeing a large piece of glass shatter on the line. There was a sound comparable to thunder followed by tens of thousands of tiny pieces of glass falling on the floor. I was stoked. No one else was. I'm clearly the only cool person in this whole factory.


Other News
My good friend, Trenton, has put me in charge of his music page, which you all should check out, for his voice is like your favorite tasty beverage, only better and it goes in your ears and not your mouth.

My favorite tasty beverage. Flavor/experience enhanced with Gin.
In all honesty, I haven't touched that page yet, but I will soon. Check back regularly for new songs/information. That is next on my list of "Things I Should Probably Be Doing."


That's all I've got for now. There will be a post in the next week (I swear on your life) about my Fourth of July Weekend. It was pretty messy.

Because Being a Nerd Is Awesome

There's a certain game that I enjoy playing a lot. The only problem is that when I try to tell people how awesome it is, they immediately assume I'm a supernerd with no friends, that I haven't seen the sun since the last time I went to buy a modified CPU, and that I haven't gotten exercise since I was forced to play in little league baseball. None of this is true (I promise). The fact is that only the coolest people enjoy this game. The game (I just lost the game) is Munchkin, and it has supplied my buddies and me with countless hours of enraging amounts of fun.

THE GAME (I lost again)

Explained simply, Munchkin is like Dungeons and Dragons with cards and awesome. Everyone starts out as "a level one human with no class (heh heh)." The point of the game is to laugh and get pissed, and then getting to level ten is a side objective. A wise man once said "fuck bitches; make money." The Munchkin equivalent would be "Fight monsters; obtain treasure." Treasure, apart from aiding your character in the game, adds humor. A cutlass, which is a type of sword, can only be used by females (because it has lass in the name -- get it?) while a cutlad can only be used by males. There are a hell of a lot more cards with even more humor, but you'll have to play it to enjoy it.

After starting, players generally choose one of two paths: Make friends or become a terrorist. A friend will help you when you fight a monster. A terrorist will be a bitch and do everything possible to piss you off and take your things from you. Penguin (another friend of mine) is notorious for this. What makes the game even better is how vague the rules are. It is perfectly legal to threaten someone in game with something completely unrelated. For example, saying "help me win or you're not invited to my birthday party" is allowed.

TIME WASTER


There have been very few quick games of Munchkin. Most rounds last about two hours, some stretching to three and very few ending before an hour is up. However, there is a set of rules where players have to get to level twenty to win. We played this (Epic Munchkin) recently, but we didn't realize the time commitment it would take.

We (there were seven of us) started around 9:30pm. I figured we'd be done by one in the morning at the latest. How wrong was I? Very. Very wrong indeed. Six hours of game-play later, the game finally ended when someone got fed up and ended the game by letting/forcing three other people to win (I'd explain how, but the rules get pretty hefty. I'll explain if we play together some time). No one was happy at the end of the night.

SMALL PROBLEM


As mentioned before, one of the options is to be a terrorist. This causes problems when people get very upset. Some arguments spill over into real life. Personally, I think it's hilarious to watch two people quarrel over how big of a selfish dick someone else is being. No punches have been thrown yet, but give it time; It'll happen.

I've also put myself into a dangerous position: The Rule Master. Being the one who introduced Munchkin to my friends, I know the most about it. This means I have to narc on people who are cheating, which typically makes me look like a total ass, comparable to an infamous dictator or maybe even Judas. Life goes on, and so does Munchkin, so I don't really care. Plus, I like being an ass. So everyone wins, really. Mostly just me, though.

GOOD TIMES


Just like everything else, Muchkin is much more fun when alcohol is involved. As I recall, I was playing Munchkin the first time I had a long island iced tea, and boy was that fun. The group was about half done with the game, and I was half done with my drink (it was at least a double serving, and this was when my tolerance was very low) when I turned to "Mel Gibson" and said "I'll chug the rest of this for five dollars." Several minutes later, I gained three dollars and I was rolling. Literally, I was rolling around on the floor. I also stole some UV Blue from someone, and I'm pretty sure I could have won the game, but I sabotaged myself. Not really sure what happened after that.

Along similar lines, I've already developed rules for turning this into a drinking game I call Drunchkin. I haven't played it yet, but when it happens I'll let you all know.

As payment for reading this blog, here's a picture of me running around in my underwear from the second time I drank (This event was mentioned in  a previous blog post) and the first time I streaked:

As my friend Penguin would say, lolbutts.
Enjoy your week, everyone. Don't forget to comment and vote (polling is located at the bottom of the page).

Another essay. This one's better. I promise.

THE PREFACE:
This was originally written on July 14, 2010. It was the summer following my Freshman year of college. Massive changes had occurred and I was kinda freakin' out, but in a really calm manner (FACT: I like to contradict myself). I think the only person who knew me well over the whole span of this little adventure was Treyson, who is alluded to in the essay. I'm not positive he noticed the change as thoroughly as I did, but who cares. Read it and enjoy it.

THE STORY



On Life Views and Social Concerns

I have never fully understood how a person can change so drastically over a relatively short amount of time. Physical features and personal interests aside, when morals, religious and political views, and social habits mutate into something totally different it is an important and life-altering event. A simple example is a sheltered, well behaved child going off to the real world and “exploding out of the slut closet,” so to speak. I, as many others, have experienced comparable change (on several occasions).

While I was in middle school, I was a shy, awkward, nerdy guy. I had a couple friends who I hung out with on occasion, but mostly I sat at home and did nothing. I did not really care what people thought of me, save for my crush, at whom I awkwardly glanced every so often. (I know they say not to care what other people think of you, but let us be honest; it matters.) That lack of social concern would explain why I only had a couple friends. I had my morals, which were tied closely to my Catholic religion, and I stuck by them fairly well. I stayed this way for several years, losing only a few morals with a chance of being more social.

Right when my morals dropped enough for me to hang out with fast women and watch people smoke pot at the age of sixteen (I thought that was rock bottom at the time), I was invited to a youth group after Sunday Mass. I am not sure if I am easily persuaded or if I was just incapable of thinking for myself, but that one youth group was enough for me to change completely by my next birthday. I joined the group and learned more about what Catholicism taught. Realizing everything I was doing wrong, I began to alter my life toward supreme righteousness.

I became an extreme Catholic, confessing my sins monthly, never swearing, etc., which inadvertently lead to me realizing none of my classmates at my Catholic school acted remotely Christian. I became “that guy,” the one who is a bit too eccentric and forceful about beliefs. Even more of an outcast, I luckily and somehow kept some friends friends from school(plus the ones from youth group, naturally).

My newfound understanding that almost all “Catholics” actually suck at practicing the religion was the first blow to my until then ever-growing faith. The effect was compounded by own personal amoral decisions, and ultimately by a good friend confessing he was in a relationship with another man (which, as I recall, I followed up with a fist bump). I felt strange getting used to this at first -- not knowing how to act or what to think. It was a total shelter-shock. But no matter what, I refused to believe this guy would be damned for loving someone that just happened to also have a penis.

I was halfway through my senior year of high school at this time, and I stopped considering myself a Catholic. I re-solidified a friendship from my childhood, a friendship I hold dear to this day. I became a little more social, cared a bit more about what other people thought about me, and coasted spiritually. At this point, my outlook on life was something like “I hope I can make more friends” and “I hope I figure out my life.”

I graduated, spent my summer with my girlfriend and the guys from the youth group (though they were unaware of my religious fallout), and then came college. Several members of my graduating high school class attended the University of St. Thomas with me, but because I was never very close to any of them I regressed to extreme shyness. I eventually became close with my co-graduates and they introduced me to alcohol and good times, including but not limited to streaking and my drunken habit of learning everyone’s name at the party. Unfortunately, the friendships hardly extended past that point, except for the roommate of two fellow high school graduates, who was pretty damn cool.

The year went by and I learned a lot about myself and what I wanted to do. I discovered my limits when my grades dropped and I went back home, somewhat downtrodden, to work my third summer at the local pool. My thoughts at this juncture were “Alright, it is time for change. Look out, Obama, there is a new man in town.”

The beginning of my summer vacation began with a fairly amicable split between my girlfriend-of-essentially-three-years and me. I am unaware if my ensuing personality change was due to not being in a relationship and the freedom therein, or if it was an inevitable transition that the universe deemed necessary. Within weeks I had become noticeably different, being significantly more social, more eccentric, and more of an ass, but in a nice I’m-just-kidding sort of way. This is how I currently am.

My overall confidence and generally appealing demeanor are, I assume, direct results of my new outlook on life, which essentially amounts to “Fuck it. I will do exactly as I damn well please.”

-----------------------------

This is not a thoroughly detailed account of the change. I could mention an ass-ton more events or inner-thinkings that led to the changes, but those are for my close friends.

Per usual, you are required to comment, subscribe, and vote (polling is at the bottom of the page).

Bonus Post: Poetry

Seeing as I enjoy English so much (not the people -- they're cool too but that's irrelephant), it's natural that I've taken some courses in the subject. Among the assignments involved therein included poetry. Because I almost feel guilty about not updating more often I'm going to upload a select few that others and I think are good. What follows will not have much for humor, but that's fine. You can deal with it. As usual, comments are encouraged -- more so this time.

I ask that you do your best to enjoy yourself.

1. THERE'S NO TIME

Inspired by the album "Zombie EP" by The Devil Wears Prada

Running - 

I’ve been running for days.

Searching for an escape from the

Hell this world has become.

They call them

The godless.

Each of them spreads

The curse

To humans - the living ones

That are terrified, depressed, enraged,

Or some combination of the three.

I am made of anger.

I feel no remorse

As I pull the trigger that

Tears their fragile brains

Into nothing.

They call them

The godless.

Truth is,

We all are.

2. NATURAL WORLD

I step out of my lovely home

Into the natural world, where the rain falls slowly, calmly,

Like leaves caught in the wind.

The purple grass licks playfully at the

White tree trunk

That extends gracefully upward

Into its canopy of scarlet, jade, and sapphire.

The one-legged owl of small stature

Squats, satisfied, surveying surroundings,

Situations, absorbed with silly sights.

The schnauzeberry bush glows gently

In the soft azure sunrise.

My neighbors, the

Unicorns,

Dance softly on their lofted porch

To the “Greatest Hits of Silence,”

Absorbed in each others’ clopping hooves.

The street is lined with monochromatic tulips,

Whose color occasionally and suddenly turns negative.

The plump, flowing, crowned, pollen spreaders ride

Majestically on the royal interactive vector field.

The world is as it should be.

------------------------------

Now, I know that some if not most of you are the kind of people who are all "that doesn't rhyme so it's clearly not poetry." Fuck you guys. As with several parts of life, I take the liberal side. I have written poems that rhyme, and they tend to be more bland than anything (probably because I'm bad at it, but that's not the point). I prefer to focus on line and stanza breaks. I've found that playing with these aspects of poetry is much more rewarding than finding words that sound similar to other words. I write, not rap.

Now bring on the comments. And I want constructive criticism, not destructive cynicism (LOLOL pun from previous paragraph).

Alright, let's make me famous.