engrish.

"here crippie, have my seat."

will booz for money.

As you all may know, it is not uncommon for harsh economic times to give rise to higher rates of depression, crime, fraud, suicide, substance abuse and rationalizations such as the following: 

an e-mail received on 09/24/08

I just want to keep you all informed on your investments. 

If you had purchased $1,000.00 of Delta Air Lines stock one year ago, you would have $49.00 left. 

With Enron you would have had $16.50 on your original investment of $1,000.00.

With WorldCom, you would have less than $5 left. 

But if you purchased $1,000.00 worth of beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum recylcing refund, you would have $214.00 in cash. 

Based on the above, the best investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle. 

It's called the 401-Keg. 

God bless save America. 

in the words of dwight schrute, "question."

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can the United States government bail me out of my last three exams this week?

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maraz.

all the things i've done in the last three hours to avoid studying:

take a personality quiz by his holiness, the dalai lama

eat 4.5 apples

watch martial arts on YouTube

try to figure out Faraz's Facebook password

browse the cover of private myspace profiles

pet my roommate's cat 

offer it the remaining half of my apple

investigate the feathers currently popping out of my pillow

google the calories in an apple

trace my childhood history to figure out when i contracted ADD

leave a message on my parents home phone about the results of my personality quiz

google my name to see if it yields any new and exciting results

attempt to fold an index card more than 5 times

investigate the identity of my anonymous commentor, BOOBGRL

calculate the sum of my four starbucks transactions made today 

google the recipe for homemade olive oil soap

attempt to coat the entire inner wall of my candle jar with wax, unsuccessfully 

listen to Nila express her frustrations with the United State Postal Service 

look at DOPEBOY's pictures and screen his comments

try and figure out who android is

try and figure out who astutely placed the word dying in the term "studying"

browse all your blogs (yes, even yours)

i better go. 

endorphins¹

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I'm always left breathless when I delve into the intricacies of the human mind, especially into the world of chemical wonders that tirelessly work behind the scenes. 

These past few days, I've been researching the brain's uptake of endorphins for a class and ran into this article where a medical missionary vividly shares his experience being subject to his own endorphins powerfully at work. 

Starting, and looking half round, I saw the lion just in the act of springing upon me. I was upon a little height; he caught my shoulder as he sprang, and we both came to the ground below together. Growling horribly close to my ear, he shook me as a terrier dog does a rat. The shock produced a stupor similar to that which seems to be felt by a mouse after the first shake of the cat. It caused a sort of dreaminess, in which there was no sense of pain nor feeling of terror, though quite conscious of all that was happening. It was like what patients partially under the influence of chloroform describe, who see all the operation, but feel not the knife. This singular condition was not the result of any mental process. The shake annihilated fear, and allowed no sense of horror in looking round at the beast. This peculiar state is probably produced in all animals killed by the carnivora; and if so, is a merciful provision by our benevolent Creator for lessening the pain of death.

Livingston, David. Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa. 1857.

There it is, yet another biological act of mercy, courtesy of Above. 

¹ One of the body's own painkillers, an opioid (morphine-like) chemical produced by the body that serves to suppress pain.

appeals for wheels

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So, I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from a herniated disc or some other horribly morbid back condition after living through these last two weeks of school. Without exaggeration, I suspect that I carry about 30% - 40% of my body weight in my backpack in the form of textbooks. 

Yesterday, I was walking to my car and I actually felt delirious from the tingling sensations in my vertebrae. Objectively speaking, I don't think this situation qualifies under the accredited guidelines for backpack safety. 

Except, the problem at hand here is neither the pain nor the associated health risks of carrying around too much weight. Osteoporosis does not scare me as much as the alarming ideas that have recently been surfacing in my head as a result of all this delirious pain. 

You see, these past few days I've found myself wondering what it would be like to carry a rolley backpack... and for a moment or two, these thoughts fill my mind (and soothe my back) with blissfully alleviating images. But when I begin to think of the reality of actually carrying one around, other images begin to precipitate. 

Images of 

• my wheels falling off and having to pick the thing up, wrap my arms around it and walk it all over campus
  
• people pointing and laughing, especially friends and family
  
• the compelling need to explain myself (and more specifically, the ownership of my rolley backpack) to anyone who will listen
• not holding on tight enough and watching it roll down a hill 
  
• realizing my rolley backpack is strikingly similar to that of the librarian's 
  
• not being able to fit in a bathroom stall with it
  
• carrying the germs from the bathroom stall to all subsequent destinations 
• the grave implications of a faulty zipper
• attracting attention to myself from the noise of the wheels streaking across the floor 
• freaking people out from the gradually increasing sounds of my wheels getting closer and louder from behind 
• being interviewed by the school paper on my rolley backpack lifestyle 
• leaving various-colored wheel traces behind me, everywhere i go 
• feeling the need to appropriately accessorise my rolley backpack with a helmet
• accidentally nicking people's ankles with my wheels
• accidentally nicking my own ankles, and having my rolley backpack watch me roll down a hill

 

This list could very easily go on forever. The bottom line is, first a rolley backpack, and then what? A fanny pack. That's what. I'm not rolling down that road. I've got to come up with something before Monday morning or else I'm going to have to ask campus health services for some morphine. 

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Dedicated to: all the times during elementary school when I use to fling my 12 oz. backpack onto one shoulder, mimicking the strides of Stephanie Tanner and Kimmy Gibbler.

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to facebook, or not to facebook?

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Apparently, that is the question. 

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Recently, I've been noticing a rise in the number of inquiries regarding the deactivation of my Facebook account which strategically took place in the beginning of the summer. Specifically, friends, family, and neighbors are wondering when (and presumptuously, not if) I will be reactivating my account and joining the rest of the modern world. As socially unorthodox as my decision to deactivate was, I'd like to make a public statement that I stand (er, technically sit) resolute behind my decision. Instead of writing a comprehensive list of all the marvelously stimulating and fruitful things I've accomplished with the large intervals of time that have newly opened up in my schedule since the fall of Facebook in my life, I've decided to dust off my Microsoft Paint skills and illustrate the following: 

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See what I mean folks? I don't want to grow up to be a Facebook potato. 

It's noteworthy to mention that you could very feasibly replace the 'Facebook' label on the graph with video games, crack, Myspace, online Texas Hold 'Em, Sudoku, reality television, and all other forms of recreational indulgences, and the graph would still hold true. I say this from experience. Except, I haven't really experimented with crack. But one can only imagine. 

Although, I must admit that I feel a form of transference has taken place over the months -- instead of signing onto Facebook I find myself powerless over the urge to check my Gmail account 37 times a day. 

Not gonna lie though, there's no sensation like a notification. 

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P.S. I give it another two months. Tops. 

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Chrome Poem

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Google Chrome Haiku 

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Oh Google Chrome, you

make me want to go on the

In'rnet all day long.

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The End.

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Inspired by: 

"Haiku, the sushi roll of poetry." 

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