So I started off my day right this morning by squirting some orange juice into my eye at breakfast with two nerds on a typically boring Saturday afternoon. Squinting, I attempted to peel the thing again but instead it flung itself out of my hands and all over my chest and lap. My pathetic friends and I knew that this was going to be another chapter in somewhat of a series of unbelievable days.
It all started a few days ago on the soccer field. Our nerdy team had just finished stretching/talking shit to each other (a part of the normal routine), and tensions were on a high. Then, all of a sudden, the showdown began. Two of usual suspects squared up and started to have at it: talking shit to each other about the girl that somehow has become the centerpiece of our soccer team's interesting and confusing relationship. The brief exchange escalated and the pack of innocent bystanders surrounding the two began to grunt and squeal with pleasure: everyone loves a good insult battle. This quintessentially nerdy incident had me grinning and laughing, and I happily jogged over to kick a nearby ball. I stuck my leg out to receive the ball rolling 2 mph at me, and I immediately lost my balance and face-planted on the turf. My dumb smile was literally wiped off my face by the rough ground, and the nerds in the background continued to giggle and shriek with glee.
Later that day the whole crew went to the local mall to hang out with some freshman girls. We arrived at Victoria's Secret only to get kicked out within minutes, but not before something extraordinary happened. A flock of moms were able to spot six sweaty, smelly nerds decked out in soccer gear surrounding their innocent young daughters, who happened to be buying lacy bras and underwear. Things only got worse when the girls began to flee from the scene, and as we chased them, we ran into our head of school out on a pleasant shopping afternoon, which was probably soiled a little after the sight of our bitch-asses. Later we discovered that the whole event had been captured by cameras and posted on Instagram for every nerd in the greater San Diego area to see.
The next day we were driving home from a soccer game and got cut off by some nerd in a truck. Furious, I honked my horn and flashed my brights in this guy's mirror, and then zipped in front of the dude. We had thought the incident was over, but after a few turns I looked back in my mirror and saw a big truck flashing its brights at me and steadily approaching. This really got us going, and being the nerds we were (especially being jacked up on testosterone), we rolled down the windows and flipped them off, screeching profanities and uttering primal grunts and animal noises. However, to our dismay, the truck pulled up next to us at a red light and it was a nice suburban family that was not the one that had cut us off. The three pathetic nerds tried to hide our embarrassment by attempting to drown ourselves in the music that was already blaring through the speakers.
Later the same day the whole squad of nerds went to the local ColdStone Creamery for a late night snack. Here another of these unbelievable occurrences yet again took place. It started off when my friend and I were juggling the soccer ball in the parking lot and a random mini-cooper appeared and zipped right into the parking space we were juggling in. We practically dove out of the way as the oblivious bitch drove right over our ball. Naturally, that sheepish expression settled on my face again as my friend crawled under the car to retrieve our precious belonging. Shortly after that, another car full of 6 or 7 girls bouncing to the beat of a pop song rolled on up, and as they spilled out I creepily muttered "Hey girls", only to be greeted with several looks of disapproval. They then piled into the ColdStone and we resumed our street juggling. Soon enough they all poured out of the shop and went back to their car, but before they drove off they started singing to us. This caught the attention of two of the members of our pack, and the curious nerds shuffled their way over, as they recognized this was their best chance to find a mate. The two primitive nerds began their mating calls and dances, only for one of them to be struck in the chest by a flying cup of ice cream hurled from across the car. Unfazed, he brushed off the gooey stains and they resumed their wooing process, and after a few more minutes the females drove off, taunting them with empty promises of Facebook and Twitter contacts. The two bold yet defeated outcasts slithered their way back to the main group and joined in on the developing chorus of meows.
To top off this unreal streak of the past couple days, I will end on the note we ended on the night before last. It was my friend and I sitting on our pathetic asses in a parking lot of a beach, gazing out at the sunset. The mood was set with music and everything, and we were just left there to marinate in our own thoughts. Occasionally, my friend was kind enough to turn down the music for a second so I could hear him squeak out a bubbly fart into my car seat, turning the volume back up as soon as the little puff of stink had ceased to make noise. So there we were, two unbelievably pathetic nerds, absorbing the beautiful sunset as well as some unidentifiable stench. Now that's what I call an unreal end to an unreal day.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tale 6: More Cat Noises
Today I was taking a shower and a leaf fell off my ass. I'm not really sure how it somehow managed to wedge itself between my cheeks throughout the course of the day: maybe it has just been growing there over time. Just another of the many mysteries in my curious version of a life.
A week or two ago my friend and I were on our way to see a movie at a new movie theater. We had spent the day mainly getting rejected by girls and driving around in circles so we were ready to rot our brains away with some mindless entertainment. The movie started at 8:20, which was just about when we arrived at the theater. There was only one guy selling tickets, but he was nice enough to hook us up with seats even though the movie had technically already started. We went to go get snacks and somehow, out of the blue, two people just blatantly cut me in line, as if I was a ghost. I was about to order and they just barged their way in on two separate occasions, leaving me there sheepishly drooling. After they ordered their food, my friend and I finally reached the counter and ordered some overpriced crap before proceeding to the theater. To our dismay, however, the usher would not let us in, because apparently the theater does not allow people to enter 10 minutes after a movie begins. It was 10:30. To add insult to injury, most of the time lost was due to the people who cut us in line. Shocked, we got our refund and dragged our feet out of there, sitting down on a dirty curb once we got outside. We resorted to the usual -- texting girls -- and as my friend sends a message saying "Nice", it autocorrects to "Zinc we". My eyes sunk deeper into their sockets as the meows started to gather in my throat, and I continued to munch on the greasy tub of popcorn in my lap.
When I got a ticket for going 75 on a 65 mph highway about a week ago, I was somewhat relieved, because I knew my bad karma with regards to driving would be temporarily satisfied and I probably wouldn't end up getting in a bad crash or anything (at least in the near future). That hasn't really been the case though, because recently my car has decided to play bumper cars in the local parking lots, and I've ran over more curbs, scratched more speed bumps, and knocked more mirrors in than ever before. Luckily for me no one has soiled their pants in the passenger seat yet (although my friend did say he's been close to it on more than one occasion). Let's hope this streak can hold up until I get through traffic school.
This blog has gotten to the point where people have started to request being mentioned in a post. Now I want to make this clear that this won't be a regular thing, and to get mentioned you have to do something very special. This may be the only post where I do indeed mention people, so I hope you'll all be grateful, and maybe buy me some food or something. First off I wanted to shout out to Alex and Izzy, who have been bugging me in my zero periods for quite some time now. Hope you ladies are happy now. I also want to shout out to my girls CB, IB, and MO. Y'all know who you are, and you know I love ya.
Keep the pageviews rollin' ladies and gents.
A week or two ago my friend and I were on our way to see a movie at a new movie theater. We had spent the day mainly getting rejected by girls and driving around in circles so we were ready to rot our brains away with some mindless entertainment. The movie started at 8:20, which was just about when we arrived at the theater. There was only one guy selling tickets, but he was nice enough to hook us up with seats even though the movie had technically already started. We went to go get snacks and somehow, out of the blue, two people just blatantly cut me in line, as if I was a ghost. I was about to order and they just barged their way in on two separate occasions, leaving me there sheepishly drooling. After they ordered their food, my friend and I finally reached the counter and ordered some overpriced crap before proceeding to the theater. To our dismay, however, the usher would not let us in, because apparently the theater does not allow people to enter 10 minutes after a movie begins. It was 10:30. To add insult to injury, most of the time lost was due to the people who cut us in line. Shocked, we got our refund and dragged our feet out of there, sitting down on a dirty curb once we got outside. We resorted to the usual -- texting girls -- and as my friend sends a message saying "Nice", it autocorrects to "Zinc we". My eyes sunk deeper into their sockets as the meows started to gather in my throat, and I continued to munch on the greasy tub of popcorn in my lap.
When I got a ticket for going 75 on a 65 mph highway about a week ago, I was somewhat relieved, because I knew my bad karma with regards to driving would be temporarily satisfied and I probably wouldn't end up getting in a bad crash or anything (at least in the near future). That hasn't really been the case though, because recently my car has decided to play bumper cars in the local parking lots, and I've ran over more curbs, scratched more speed bumps, and knocked more mirrors in than ever before. Luckily for me no one has soiled their pants in the passenger seat yet (although my friend did say he's been close to it on more than one occasion). Let's hope this streak can hold up until I get through traffic school.
This blog has gotten to the point where people have started to request being mentioned in a post. Now I want to make this clear that this won't be a regular thing, and to get mentioned you have to do something very special. This may be the only post where I do indeed mention people, so I hope you'll all be grateful, and maybe buy me some food or something. First off I wanted to shout out to Alex and Izzy, who have been bugging me in my zero periods for quite some time now. Hope you ladies are happy now. I also want to shout out to my girls CB, IB, and MO. Y'all know who you are, and you know I love ya.
Keep the pageviews rollin' ladies and gents.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Tale 5: Deeper And Deeper
I've started to develop a routine of spilling soy sauce all over my pants during my chicken and rice lunch days, but this time it was different. I squirted the sauce on my pants like always, and then I proceeded to spill the first spoonful all over my pants and jacket. I then stood up and brushed it off directly into my water cup. That sheepish expression slowly began to develop on my face again, and I stood there with my hands on my hips and my eyebrows raised for an amount of time that I can no longer remember.
I've begun to do this thing where I kind of make weird animal sounds when these unreal events happen. It just kind of helps me to do a reality check to see if I am dreaming or not: a more weirder version of pinching myself, if you will. Most of the time, however, no one really pays attention to the weird kid making cat noises in the corner, so I guess we will never know if this is real life or just some sleep-induced psychosis.
The other day, after my new freshman friend referred to me as her "gay best friend", I left school early to go to the post office to get my passport renewed. I wasn't very excited because in my passport photo I look like a sex offender, and I was not looking forward to whatever nerdy comment the people at the post office were going to make. The terrible thing was that I had essentially paid $8 to get a photo taken that would most likely get me stopped and searched in airports whenever I try to travel out of the country in the future. I reluctantly parked my car and walked in carrying my terrorist ID and passport application (which, by the way, had been deleted the first time I completed it because my computer had died). I entered the office and it was deserted except for a suburban mom and her two innocent nerd children clinging to her pant-legs. I approached the front desk and asked for assistance, but the lady working swiftly informed me that she could not take my application without a pre-scheduled appointment, even when there was absolutely nobody in the vicinity. I meowed at her a few times and then stormed out of there, gripping my application tightly in my right hand.
Unfortunately for me, none of these anecdotes can compare to the one that happened today. I'll pick up the story at around 5:30 pm, when my friends and I had just defeated a soccer rival in a real solid performance, and I was on a high for the day. That high was quickly suppressed as soon as we got on the 45 minute bus ride back to our cars, which had turned into an hour and a half ride due to unbelievable traffic. We were 4 pathetic blobs just scratching our asses on a bus together trying to amuse ourselves, and the night had only just begun. When the bus finally inched its way into the parking lot, we exited and stretched our stiff muscles out on the street. When I reached into my bag for my keys, that's when things started going downhill. I had left them on the bus somewhere or even down in La Jolla, so now my two friends and I were stranded in a deserted parking lot a fair distance away from my friend's car. Some rasta dude on his way to smoke weed behind a building drove by and we began to take the long trek down to the car, lugging fat backpacks on our backs and lumbering one step at a time with our sore feet pounding the rough concrete. After slithering our way through dark roads and an empty school campus, we emerged from the local sage-scrub wilderness and plopped our selves in the car. My voice hoarse already from yelling obscenities at the sky, we began to discuss our lives and realized that my bad luck had sort of seeped out of my body and affected everyone within a 10 foot radius of me. The three blobs then went to gorge our fat selves on some overpriced Islands' burgers and fries to top off the night.
Although I thought that I had hit the rock bottom (and I thought I hit it hard, too), apparently this isn't the end of my sufferings, and I still continue to chip away at the crumbling barrier beneath my feet. Luckily for me I am able to see the humor in it all and at the end of the day I can laugh my ass off at my troubles over a few Cokes at Islands. I am looking forward to keeping the bad times rolling and looking back at them later with a newfound lightheartedness and apathy -- the good kind of apathy, at least.
I've begun to do this thing where I kind of make weird animal sounds when these unreal events happen. It just kind of helps me to do a reality check to see if I am dreaming or not: a more weirder version of pinching myself, if you will. Most of the time, however, no one really pays attention to the weird kid making cat noises in the corner, so I guess we will never know if this is real life or just some sleep-induced psychosis.
The other day, after my new freshman friend referred to me as her "gay best friend", I left school early to go to the post office to get my passport renewed. I wasn't very excited because in my passport photo I look like a sex offender, and I was not looking forward to whatever nerdy comment the people at the post office were going to make. The terrible thing was that I had essentially paid $8 to get a photo taken that would most likely get me stopped and searched in airports whenever I try to travel out of the country in the future. I reluctantly parked my car and walked in carrying my terrorist ID and passport application (which, by the way, had been deleted the first time I completed it because my computer had died). I entered the office and it was deserted except for a suburban mom and her two innocent nerd children clinging to her pant-legs. I approached the front desk and asked for assistance, but the lady working swiftly informed me that she could not take my application without a pre-scheduled appointment, even when there was absolutely nobody in the vicinity. I meowed at her a few times and then stormed out of there, gripping my application tightly in my right hand.
Unfortunately for me, none of these anecdotes can compare to the one that happened today. I'll pick up the story at around 5:30 pm, when my friends and I had just defeated a soccer rival in a real solid performance, and I was on a high for the day. That high was quickly suppressed as soon as we got on the 45 minute bus ride back to our cars, which had turned into an hour and a half ride due to unbelievable traffic. We were 4 pathetic blobs just scratching our asses on a bus together trying to amuse ourselves, and the night had only just begun. When the bus finally inched its way into the parking lot, we exited and stretched our stiff muscles out on the street. When I reached into my bag for my keys, that's when things started going downhill. I had left them on the bus somewhere or even down in La Jolla, so now my two friends and I were stranded in a deserted parking lot a fair distance away from my friend's car. Some rasta dude on his way to smoke weed behind a building drove by and we began to take the long trek down to the car, lugging fat backpacks on our backs and lumbering one step at a time with our sore feet pounding the rough concrete. After slithering our way through dark roads and an empty school campus, we emerged from the local sage-scrub wilderness and plopped our selves in the car. My voice hoarse already from yelling obscenities at the sky, we began to discuss our lives and realized that my bad luck had sort of seeped out of my body and affected everyone within a 10 foot radius of me. The three blobs then went to gorge our fat selves on some overpriced Islands' burgers and fries to top off the night.
Although I thought that I had hit the rock bottom (and I thought I hit it hard, too), apparently this isn't the end of my sufferings, and I still continue to chip away at the crumbling barrier beneath my feet. Luckily for me I am able to see the humor in it all and at the end of the day I can laugh my ass off at my troubles over a few Cokes at Islands. I am looking forward to keeping the bad times rolling and looking back at them later with a newfound lightheartedness and apathy -- the good kind of apathy, at least.
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