Informatic Static

I can't think of anything crazy to talk about like I did yesterday so I'm just gonna tell you about my recent obsession with a pair of pants.



Well, they're tights. They're tight pants. But they're aren't just any tight pants. Oh no. This company, Skins, that makes these tights, the RY400, found a way to make pants so tight that they actually heal the muscles in your legs faster! Faster than looser pants or no pants. It's supposed to increase circulation or something...

But really, they're just tight pants.

Tight pants that cost one hundred and forty dollars! $140!

I've been telling myself for the past, I don't know, four days now that I'm not going to buy them. But here's the thing, I am going to buy them. I have to buy them. Because the seeds have been sown. And now those seeds are being relentless nourished by the heaps of manure that are banner ads that I see on every single website I go to. I can't escape these pants! I literally think about buying these ridiculous pants before I go to sleep at night.

That brings us to logic. It's logic's job to stop me from buying things I don't need. You know that scene in Black Dynamite where he's in his dojo and he wails on all those Asian guys for no apparent reason? They run at him only to get utterly destroyed. Those guys are logic.
.
And my compulsive urges are about to roundhouse kick them to the floor.

But let's see what logic has to say.
1. They cost $140! Could you really stand to live with yourself if you bought a single pair of pants that cost that much? That's not the way. That's not the way it's supposed to be!
2. They probably don't even make that much of a difference. Are you even going to notice?
3. You have to walk around with these tights under your clothes and its recommended that you sleep in them. You can't sleep in tights.

Yes, that's all very well and good logic. You made a strong case. However, the simple facts remain:
a) I want them.
b) Christmas money.

Well, if I want them so bad why don't I just buy them and shut-up about it?

Because look at them! They're so stupid! And I'm not even that fast. Not fast enough to have running determine the pants I wear when I'm NOT running. It's already taken almost everything else.

So yeah, not going to buy them...for now. But these freakin' banner ads won't let me forget about them! Now I'm just not going to buy them out of spite. If I see a pair in real life, I'mma steal them. That's what the Internet has driven me to do. Everyone heard it here: the Internet made me do it.

Keep the faith.

Condition Normal

You know when you stand up and all the blood rushes out(?) of your head? You start blacking out and you ears start ringing?

I got a name for that; I call it: The Greggening. (that's Greggening with 3 g's and a ŋ)

It's called that because I figure one day I'm gonna get up to go to the kitchen to get some jalapeno peanuts and I'll get that feeling. But instead of my vision returning, the  Greggening will progress further and further until I enter into total Gregg. It's like my senses will just flip over to this other dimension ruled by the demi-god known only as Gregg.

He'll be all the time squatting and have a little cane thing and a raggedity purple cape that he likes to sniff the corners of when he thinks no one is looking. But everyone is totally looking. Other than him it'll just be like a dark void with wispy swirly stuff going on in the background and you want to touch it but you know it's probably evil and will send you back in time where you'll inadvertently become your own aunt.

Anyway, Gregg will be scrunched up like a medium-sized evil prune and instead of talking to you he'll just wave his hand and three boxes will appear before you. There's a big box, a little box, and uh...Residential Advisor box. The RA box is always trying to hold events in the social lounge that no one attends. And then I show up after the event fails and eat all the free cookies!

Anyway, creepy Gregg is like, "Choose a box carefully."

And I'm like, "Well, obviously I don't want the RA box. But other than that, how is this a situation that requires care? I only know the size of these boxes. Size doesn't tell me a whole lot about the properties of what they contain. I mean, in terms of danger the little box could contain a plague of roaches, wasps, cherry-flavored cough syrup. Any number of terrible things. While the big box could be filled with several boxes, each of which get smaller in size and ultimately contain the same thing as the little box."

"Shut up. Just pick one.""

"I pick the big box. And if Audrey Hepburn is in there, she better be alive. A dead Audrey Hepburn would be most unpropitious."

(that means unfavorable, y'all! Second vocab word of the 2012!)

And then I open the big box and there's a giant glass of orange juice. Suddenly! I'm in the orange juice! And the top's been sealed off with a sheet of cafeteria-grade aluminum foil.

Gregg is like, "Looks like you'll have to drink your way out!"

And I'm thinking, I've been preparing for this my whole life!
So I drink a third of my body weight in orange juice and that snaps me back to reality.

In conclusion, make sure you keep your blood sugar up and always stay hydrated! 

Everything Repeats

Let's do another one of these.

True Meaning of Winter Break Part Nine

Waking up at 8 in the morning to go to the dentist and then around noon having dreams about your parents dying and a coffee maker bludgeoning a hockey player to death.

That's...that's more just what I did today. Not so much the True Meaning of Winter Break.

I don't think any universal message can be salvaged from that. Except, maybe, don't get your teeth polished and then take a nap. Your subconscious will be all topsy-turvy from your excess oral hygiene.

But it does lead me into something I'd like to talk about: Flossing.

I don't floss. Never picked up the habit. It doesn't have the soothing freshness of brushing or the invigorating sting of mouthwash.

But I did decide today that I will begin flossing the minute I lose "dental". Which I'm guessing stands for dental insurance, or some sort of dental plan where your job lets you get the "dental". I've only ever heard "dental" so I don't know what the full name for the concept is.

Anyway, until someone's mom (cuz they're always moms) is no longer able to go in my mouth with a tiny spike and scrape all the plaque away. I'm not flossing. Every six months I just get their professional cleaning and that carries me through.

When that stops happening though, I'm gonna be on my teeth like a fiend. Like a fiend! Like a toothy fiend! Cuz I'm not paying for mouth stuff out of my own pocket. It's expensive and painful. Expensively painful. And painfully expensive. I'll buy like a mega-sized spool of minty dental floss and keep it where my toilet paper holder is. And then I'll just put the toilet paper on the top part of the toilet. Like the lazy people in my suite-bathroom at school do! I'll eat lots of apples too. Because apples clean teeth.

Yeah, and I'll probably take lots of Vicodin too. Yeah...Cookie Crisp and Vicodin...

Flossing is important...let me rephrase that. Flossing is important when you don't have someone's mom to clean your teeth and nag you about flossing. If you've got that going on, what are the moms going to do when you go to the dentist? They'll have nothing to say and no plaque to scrape off and collect in a tiny plastic bag that they keep hidden under their sleeve.

And they take the scrapings to a back room where they empty it out on to their own little pile. Those little piles rest at the foot of the head Dentist-man's throne chair and all the nurses/moms compete to see whose pile of teeth-scrapings can reach a meter in height. The first person to do that wins their key to freedom. And they get one of those cool robo-chairs installed in their living room.

That's how I imagine dentistry works anyway...

TRUE MEANING OF WINTER BREAK!  

This is the Thing!

Hey kids! Tired of all those boring applications for your computer phones?

Course you are! Don't sass me!

You need the APPL.DE.APP APP!

That's right! Now your favorite member of the Black Eyed Peas is on your smartphone to steer you through life.

By drawing from the vast volume of Appl.de.app's insightful lyrics, the APPL.DE.APP. APP can handle any situation!

Young Person with Terrible Sense of Direction: APPL.DE.APP APP, how do I get myself to the hair cuttery?

A.D.A.A.:  Let's walk the bridge. To the other side. Just you and I. (just you and I)

Young Person: Thanks APPL.DE.APP APP!

It can liven up any party!

Young Persons: This party time music is terrible. Let's see if the APPL.DE.APP. APP has any suggestions.

A.D.A.A: She does the two step, and the tongue drop, she does the cabbage patch, and the bus stop, she like Electro, she love Hip Hop, she like the Reggae, she feel Punk Rock, she like the Samba, and the Mambo, she like to Break Dance, and Calypso.

Get a little crazy, get a little stupid!

Young Persons: Okay! We will do all of those things. In order! Fun achieved!

It can...do other stuff!

Business Man: APPL.DE.APP APP, what's the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?

A.D.A.A: Honey got me runnin like I'm Flo-Jo. Signs her name on my heart with an X-O. Love's so sweet got me vexed though, I wonder when she write back like presto, yes.

Business Man: No. The weather.

A.D.A.A: Meantime I wait for the next time, She come around for a toast to the best time. We LOL back
and forth on the text line, She got me fishin' for love, I confess I'm--

Business Man: WEATHER! TOMORROW!

A.D.A.A: Something bout her smile and that combo, got me high and I ain't comin' down yo. My heart's pumpin' out louder than electro. She got me feeling like Mr. Roboto.

Business Man: You are the most useless person alive!

The Boss Man: Johnson! Why are you yelling at your terrible music? You're fired!

Business Man (smashing phone): Piece of--

Yes, the APPL.DE.APP APP, for all your vague direction and terrible dance move needs, just ask the guy who barely gets to do anything in the band.

Also, check out the APPL.DE.APP autobiographical audio book APP.

A.D.A.A.B.A: And then I told will.i.am and Fergie about my plan to do a song where I write the chorus, and make the beats, and get more than one verse. And they just laughed and laughed...

The APPL.DE.APP APP, which one is he again?

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The biggest joke here is that the lyrics I used are from Taboo. The other person that no one knows about in the Black Eyed Peas. I got most of the way through this and realized I was quoting the wrong guy. But then I thought to myself, "Who will know the difference?! BAHAHAHAHAHA"

Heated Mattress Pad

I like having the house to myself. The lone college student with no responsibilities!

I watched Hot Rod and took a dump. Dumbest movie I've seen in a long time. I loved it.

There's that danger of having the house to yourself. Who's there to stop you from doing acts of unspeakable evil? You might give in to your darkest desires and do something crazy like turn on all the TVs and turn the volume all the way up. You might take all the Activia pro-biotic yogurt and put it in the bathtub.

But then you realize that bathtubs are really big. And you only had two cups of yogurt left out of the six pack. So now you just have a weird mess.

 The older I get the more I feel like I'm becoming elementary school me. And moving away from what middle school and high school me wanted and was worried about. It's like those teen years were a weird diversion and now I'm getting back to my eight-year old priorities.

Which were to be awesome! That's what I was thinking about today. I was thinking about how the "shmo/average guy" has been idolized. That's our generation's male-persona. The average, awkward, lazy guy.

I don't really have a problem with that so much as I dislike that excellence in anything isn't celebrated. It's almost a negative. People can be "too smart". Obsessions are "unhealthy". (How can I be the best at looking at digital clocks if I don't spend 18 hours a day looking at digital clocks!)

And that brings me to Kanye West. Because Kanye West does dare to be excellent. And it occurred to me today that that's why I genuinely like him. He do it better than anybody you ever seen do it.

Yeah, he won't shut up about it, which I guess you could call arrogance, but at least he wants to be the best at something.

And that brings me to Pokemon. When did we lose sight of Pokemon? When did we stop wanting to be the very best, like no one EVER was?

So to tie this whole thing up, I guess I'm going back to the mindset of when I played Pokemon, but without the Pokemon.

I want to be the best comedian/writer-guy and runner that  I can be! And that's it. Well, I guess I might as well continue being a good student. And...have friends and stuff. But other than those things, I hereby don't give craps about anything else!

...I need to learn how to cook. What am I going to feed myself with?!

end. (tomorrow's will be better. promise.)

Pah-poing-boing

I was driving in my car to Keith's house, listening to "Like a G6". I drove through an intersection and, having passed through said intersection, a brilliant white fox jumped out of some bushes and stopped directly in front of me. I slammed on the brakes. The fox remained completely still. I was compelled to get out of my car.

I stood behind the open driver's side door and the fox said, "I can show you many wondrous things in the land of the silver sun."

To which I replied, "That's cool. I was just going to play cards."

And then uh...kinda...ran out of steam on that one...

The point is, you can only romanticize your life so much. Like, you can't just walk around acting like magical things happen to you all the time when you're just going to your friend's house to play Capitalism for four hours.

But at the same time, you can't just lie about petty stuff either. I couldn't be like, "I was listening to 'Like a G6' and busting incredible dance moves in my seat." Because, you know I'm lying. And if even if I wasn't, you wouldn't care.

So what you gotta do is realistically lie and then extrapolate awesomeness from that.

You could be like, "I rolled down the window and stuck my head out into the icy wind and defiantly opened my eyes against the burn." (which is something I totally be doing all the times) And then you could talk about how that reminds you of high-school, when you'd have to drive to school as the sun was coming up and you'd take the back roads and go flying over the hills and through the twisty turns and it shocked the sleepiness out of you. Or how'd you go and get a giant slurpee and finish it when there was still snow on the ground. Because instead of fighting the cold you just internalized it, or you held it in your clenched fist and squeezed until everything went numb.

And then you could say something about how you can't accomplish anything great by suppressing your self. You gotta do you. In any condition. And the greater the struggle, the greater the...good...stuff...is brought.

Then you gotta undercut it by saying something like, "Unless you're tired. Which there really isn't anything you can do about. Just cover yourself in blankets and fade into the warmth until real life is far away."

I want to sleep on sand. Warm beach sand. There's nothing I would like better than to press the side of my head into some warm beach sand right now. I can feel all the little granules. So warm. Icy grass is so cold. Boo icy grass! Eat at Del-Taco, icy grass!

Frequently Stupendous

I fell asleep in a sleeping bag for about 3 hours, woke up, scraped the frost off my car, and drove home. It was a good New Year's. I crashed, recovered, and kept on moving...then I took a nap about four hours later. But I felt like I had momentum, you know? Like I kicked off the burning, sinking ship that was 2011 and onto the sweet sweet non-flammable cloud ship of 2012.

Which leads me to the title. Frequently Stupendous. That's the goal of the blog for the new year, to be that. Frequently Stupendous.

Frequent- as in prolific or overwhelmingly growing! The content of this blog will multiply so rapidly that I'm bound to crap out something special in the avalanche of mediocrity I will assail my readers with. Prepare yourselves for much separating of the wheat from the chaff. So much CHAFF.

(Mediocrity and avalanche aren't words that readily combine. Mediocralanche? Avalocrity?)


Stupendous- as in better than an oatmeal cream pie. I discovered last night that the standard for stupendous is an oatmeal cream pie. The oatmeal cream pie is just on the edge of stupendous. There's literally no space between oatmeal cream pie and stupendous; they're that close. If you add something to the oatmeal cream pie, like chocolate, then it becomes stupendous. And surprisingly, if you take out the cream, leaving just an oatmeal pie, you also achieve stupendous. So it is my intention to make this blog better than an oatmeal cream pie.

And maybe next year we'll try to be better than oatmeal pie. BUT I DOUBT IT!

So that's like that.

Also, gonna try not to swear this year. We'll see how that goes.
___________________________________________________________________

Everyone knows self-improvement is dead. Science has already told us that, without enough money and reality show appearances, major lifestyle changes are pretty much impossible .

But just for fun, let's tie up the corpse of self-improvement and drag him down the freeway from the back of my bumper! Maybe he'll get airborne!

Obviously you want to improve your life by fixing up the fleshy mound of soggy meat you call a body. Look at yourself. It's like an eight-year old molded you out of paper-mache. Don't worry, whatever your body-type, you're hideous. Here's some all-encompassing wondertips to change that.

The first thing you're going to want to do is go get some vitamins. It's winter so you're probably deficient in Vitamin D, that's why come you're so cranky and your hips look so weird. I prefer the cheap, generic gummy vitamins. They don't actually contain a lot of healthy stuff that you wouldn't normally get from food. That's why you gotta super-charge them.

Grab a big ol' fistful of them gummy fruits and turn it into a big ol' faceful of gummy fruits. Mash the vitamins a little bit to increase their absorbency but before you swallow, spit them all into a blender. Then take an aggressively-named energy drink and a number-themed energy shot and poor those bad boys in there to liven things up. Blendilate at high speeds and then chuggerate at ignominious speeds!

(that's a word I learned from Paradise Lost. It means deserving or causing public disgrace or shame. Great, right? You're learning!)

Now you're ready to face the day just like when you were four! You haven't felt this young in a long time. Your heart is pounding like a jackhammer and the vitamin overdose has turned your pee neon orange!

Walk around flex-spasming and send people pictures of your bright new toilet bowl. You'll command so much respect that you probably won't have to pay for stuff no more. I mean, you're basically riding the line between a super villain and a superhero that can only work under the cover of night. You definitely aren't daytime material. But instead of committing to those risky businesses, you should enjoy the free stuff while living the life of a freak.

This is how healthy people feel all the time!