Song of the Day: Sphagnum Esplanade by The Shins
Like of the Day: Nubile
Dislike of the Day: Confused
Undecided of the Day: Herfy Burger
Friday, March 30, 2007
FUck!!!!!
Ok so i realize this blog has gotten pretty gay. that i know. really gay. anyway. I saw peter kickflipping the 5 stair outside of my spanish class the other day and was struck with a severe longing to be able to skate. It was awful. And it won't pass. Everytime I see someone more capable than me doing something that i want to be able to do i get pretty jealous. And also with hotties. There is a surplus of hotties as already mentioned. The only problem is that the majority of the them are braindead. I gave a ride to a woman in the shuttle today that was probably 35, divorced, and with a kid. she advised me to not get married till my early 30's. I shall consider this woman wise due to the fact that her husbad of 12 years whom she married when she was 24 showed up one day at the house they had built together and were raising a son in to say "I don't think i can do this marriage anymore." Where is the fucking shotgun with guys like this??? take this fucker out. anyway, fuck marriage until you're at least about 28. the moral of this story is that julieta venegas is marginally hot but more importantly that Tommy's is the worst place in the world and should be nuked into oblivion.
-Boosh Clown
-Boosh Clown
Oh my god, he's like...
The girls are hotter in Spring Quarter. This is a fact. They come out of the woodwork, slinking their way behind the cherry trees out to the center of the quad where they tan their scantily clad bodies in the fresh spring sun. It is 63 degrees out but they are acting as if it is a sultry 87. Tanning. Tempting. It is as if God put them on this Earth to make guys like me feel frustrated and inadequate.
As I sit in my Studio apartment typing on my laptop listening to "La Bella Cubana" by the Buena Vista Social club I find myself thinking about what this quarter has in store for me. And what my life has in store for me. In 4 months I will have finished college and thus be thrust into the proverbial "real world." Which begs the following question: Why is the "real world" a concept that invariably brings with it the idea of the end of a beautiful carefree era? When people talk about entering the "real world" they generally do it with the kind of dread usually reserved for discussing colonoscopies. At least twice a week someone in the shuttle will say to me "Enjoy it while you can," or "do what you want while you're young." These are probably the most depressing statements I can imagine. But the worst part is not that these people resigned themselves to a life of working a job they don't really like. The worst part is that they actually believe they had to. For them the real world was something not only undesirable, but something completely unavoidable.
Which is why I want to renounce the real world. I hope to never live in it, whatever and wherever it is. The real world is made up of men in suits talking on their Blackberrys looking overly concerned about the strength of the Asian stock market or whether or not they got overcharged on the 2001 bottle of merlot that they had delivered for their dinner party. It is fucking awful. But, and I cannot stress this enough, what happens in the real world is not the worst part. The worst part is the people who almost happily resign themselves to working high paying jobs that don't make them happy but allow them to drive C classes to work and casually mention that they have Box Seats to the Mariner's game This is without fail what becomes important to you once you enter the real world. You can no longer drink too much Budweiser and make lewd jokes about wanting to have sex with Eva Longoria in front of Tony Parker's stupid french-ass while you barbecue Safeway polish dogs on your patio. No. Because this immature, and once you join the real world you have to be mature.
As I sit in my Studio apartment typing on my laptop listening to "La Bella Cubana" by the Buena Vista Social club I find myself thinking about what this quarter has in store for me. And what my life has in store for me. In 4 months I will have finished college and thus be thrust into the proverbial "real world." Which begs the following question: Why is the "real world" a concept that invariably brings with it the idea of the end of a beautiful carefree era? When people talk about entering the "real world" they generally do it with the kind of dread usually reserved for discussing colonoscopies. At least twice a week someone in the shuttle will say to me "Enjoy it while you can," or "do what you want while you're young." These are probably the most depressing statements I can imagine. But the worst part is not that these people resigned themselves to a life of working a job they don't really like. The worst part is that they actually believe they had to. For them the real world was something not only undesirable, but something completely unavoidable.
Which is why I want to renounce the real world. I hope to never live in it, whatever and wherever it is. The real world is made up of men in suits talking on their Blackberrys looking overly concerned about the strength of the Asian stock market or whether or not they got overcharged on the 2001 bottle of merlot that they had delivered for their dinner party. It is fucking awful. But, and I cannot stress this enough, what happens in the real world is not the worst part. The worst part is the people who almost happily resign themselves to working high paying jobs that don't make them happy but allow them to drive C classes to work and casually mention that they have Box Seats to the Mariner's game This is without fail what becomes important to you once you enter the real world. You can no longer drink too much Budweiser and make lewd jokes about wanting to have sex with Eva Longoria in front of Tony Parker's stupid french-ass while you barbecue Safeway polish dogs on your patio. No. Because this immature, and once you join the real world you have to be mature.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
Hey baby...
SONG OF THE DAY!!!!!!!!! Love Cliché by Bran Van 3000
Song of the Week - TIKI ROOM by HIlary Duff
Song of the Week - TIKI ROOM by HIlary Duff
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Piss Off
This blog has gone down hill hasn't it? It's ok to say, I know that's what you're thinking you little fuckers. In fact you're probably thinking that it's way past down hill, at the bottom of the hill, possibly even in a pit at the bottom of the hill.
Well, fickal audience, this is entirely your fault. Your expectations were too high and the pressure got to me. I couldn't keep it up. Maybe I'm having a Dave Chappelle moment, except that I'm not funny and no one offered me 50 million dollars to write jokes. But maybe I will move to Ohio like him, just to spite you guys.
Actually I'll never move to Ohio. I was out at my grandma's for Christmas this year in New Bremen, Ohio, and I literally cried 75% of the time. Thank God teardrops are saline or they would have frozen to my baby-skinned face. These were ice chest temperatures.
Ohio is a pretty miserable place in the winter, but then again so is Washington. There are few other places where it rains for 90 days straight, is always gray, always cold, and always damp. Thats the key word: damp. Fucking damp. Everything is damp. Your shoes are damp, your socks are damp, your hair is damp, your jacket is damp, your house is damp, your windows are damp, your deck is damp, the sidwalk is damp. Even the squirrels are damp. Damp.
Side note: Shout out to Zachary Z., Barry S., Hunter P., and Mike Rob for keeping the dream alive with the the "Rosarito She Said She was 18 Tour 2007." Please drink a caguama for me, I will be there in spirit.
Like of the Day: Licking your wrist 4 hours after swimming in the pool to unlock the aroma
Dislike of the Day: Whoppers (the candy, absolutely fucking disgusting)
Song of the Day: La Chinita by Manu Chao
Photo of the Day:
The man, the legend. It's a fucking classic folks.
Well, fickal audience, this is entirely your fault. Your expectations were too high and the pressure got to me. I couldn't keep it up. Maybe I'm having a Dave Chappelle moment, except that I'm not funny and no one offered me 50 million dollars to write jokes. But maybe I will move to Ohio like him, just to spite you guys.
Actually I'll never move to Ohio. I was out at my grandma's for Christmas this year in New Bremen, Ohio, and I literally cried 75% of the time. Thank God teardrops are saline or they would have frozen to my baby-skinned face. These were ice chest temperatures.
Ohio is a pretty miserable place in the winter, but then again so is Washington. There are few other places where it rains for 90 days straight, is always gray, always cold, and always damp. Thats the key word: damp. Fucking damp. Everything is damp. Your shoes are damp, your socks are damp, your hair is damp, your jacket is damp, your house is damp, your windows are damp, your deck is damp, the sidwalk is damp. Even the squirrels are damp. Damp.
Side note: Shout out to Zachary Z., Barry S., Hunter P., and Mike Rob for keeping the dream alive with the the "Rosarito She Said She was 18 Tour 2007." Please drink a caguama for me, I will be there in spirit.
Like of the Day: Licking your wrist 4 hours after swimming in the pool to unlock the aroma
Dislike of the Day: Whoppers (the candy, absolutely fucking disgusting)
Song of the Day: La Chinita by Manu Chao
Photo of the Day:
The man, the legend. It's a fucking classic folks.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
No Subject
Photo of the Day: Santa Teresa, Costa Rica 
Like of the Day: Natalia Tussie Contreras
Dislike of the Day: Santorum
Song of the Day: Zorba's Dance
Like of the Day: Natalia Tussie Contreras
Dislike of the Day: Santorum
Song of the Day: Zorba's Dance
Friday, March 2, 2007
Zach is a Dick
Zach is a dick because the other night I didn't really want to drink and he opened the 40 of Pabst that was in my fridge. I was then faced with the life-altering decision of either drinking this 40 or letting it go to waste. I knew that our forefathers would roll in their graves if it went to waste, so I started off the night with a chug. Then we talked on Skype to a chick from Mexico for like 2 hours. Partytime. Now I am listening to portuguese music and dreading going to work to drive the stupid-ass fucking shuttle that might get driven off the University Bridge. Fucking bung-holes. Barry is also a dick because the other day he called me pretending to be a gay man from Madison Park named "Doug." I should have suspected something was up when he asked if it was ok "if his husband came." However I wasn't given much time to suspect anything because as soon as I said of course it was ok if the husband came there was a cackle of laughter on the other end courtesy of Barry and Mario. I looked at the number on the phone, realized it was Barry's, and sat jaw-dropped for about 5 seconds. I missed my exit for the 99 due to the traumatic stupor induced by this prank call. To make matters worse it was probably the busiest day I have ever had at work, and I got off a half hour late. To top it ALL off, I lost a pair of keys to an Audi about 5 minutes before we were supposed to close. I was then left to look all over the ground of the parking lot with a flashlight, in the rain. Fuck me. Anyway, that was that. And now I'm back off to shuttle. I realize this blog is not updated very often, and that I make a lot of empty promises about things that I'm going to write. If you have a problem with that feel free to post a comment. Or feel free to drive the shuttle off the University Bridge. I'll give you the keys.
"If you're going to jingle, don't half-ass it, Jingle all the way!" -Gary Gulman on Christmas songs
-Boosh Clown
Song of the Day: Combat Baby by Metric
"If you're going to jingle, don't half-ass it, Jingle all the way!" -Gary Gulman on Christmas songs
-Boosh Clown
Song of the Day: Combat Baby by Metric
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