Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in lateniteramen's LiveJournal:

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Thursday, December 4th, 2008
2:38 pm	Just for you, Kari! Good luck on your job hunt! Current Mood: silly (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, December 1st, 2008
3:39 pm	Oh No What The F Hey, long time no see. Check out this footage of this rare Magnapinna squid. http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/pf/98196571.html One of the few things I have always feared from a very young age are giant squid. Don't ask me why. Jesus, that fucking thing is terrifying. Current Mood: on edge (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, September 23rd, 2008
6:49 pm	I make bad choices The other night I was jonesin' for something alcoholic, so I grabbed my friend Tom, whom I call Chunk, to hit up a bar or two. Now, in Lincoln, this is an idea which is good in theory but completely disastrous in practice, much like eating anything at Long John Silver's. I never really took the time to hit up any of the bars here since I turned 21 since it wasn't exactly my scene anyway, but now there's a good reason for this. Lincoln's population is just over 15,000, and I would estimate less than 3 percent of that number is black people, the rest being largely comprised of white trash and rednecks who love getting intoxicated in public places. Chunk and I went to this newly-opened joint called Chad's Blind, which seemed clean, if nothing else, and had a beer garden out back. The bartender, a slender, attractive woman in her early forties who looked like Julia Roberts, served us our drinks--I ordered a Blue Moon while Chunk had a Woodchuck Draft Cider. We munched on pretzels for a while and watched Dallas and Green Bay on the big screen until a surly man and his girlfriend slid onto the end of the bar. I noticed he was wearing a lightly-stained golf shirt and had a pushbroom mustache and the sloping brow of a Neanderthal, while his bedraggled companion sported unkempt dirty blonde hair and a cast on her arm. Caveman paid for some booze and nursed it for a while, scowling at the game on TV and muttering to his woman. When he could apparently take it no longer, he turned to us: : "Either 'a yew two fellas play football in college or high school?" This struck me as a bit funny, since Chunk and I are clearly pasty-looking geeks who wouldn't know what to do with a football if it hit us in the face, but I realized he needed a lead-in to his brewing complaint. Slightly confused, we played along: : "Uh... no, sir." : "Y'see that? That's just fuckin' ridiculous. Why do they let that guy play like that?" He gestured to the screen, where Marion Barber was jogging off the field. Barber had his long locks tied back, and this obviously infuriated him somehow. I decided to see where this was going: : "Well, I have no problem with it. Actually, I think it's legal to tackle a guy by grabbing onto his hair if it's long like that, so it's not like it helps him any." I said this matter-of-factly with no idea if it was completely true or not, but I recall having heard this somewhere, so whatever. : "I don't care, it's stupid. I can't believe they even let that motherfucker onto the field. Don't you think so?" : "Uh..." : "I tell you boys what. If I was playin' on that field, I'd pluck that nigger like a chicken." : "........." I hate this town and I hate these bars. Current Mood: displeased (14 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, August 6th, 2008
7:09 pm	Holy crap someone play this with me now I think I just found a new thing for Black Company to do at events. STUMP Equipment 1. Hammer: All hammer types are acceptable. Wooden-handled hammers are the most traditional, but they can often begin to break after multiple games. Should you choose to use wooden, take special care to monitor the strength of the neck regularly. 2. Nails: All nails are acceptable, however, 4-to 6-inch nails are ideal. You should have enough for one nail per person per game (Exception: Team Games). Feel free to experiment with different nail lengths depending on your skill level and stump type (see stump specifications below). 3. Stump: The stump should be sturdy enough to withstand topside blows without falling over. The stump should stand approximately knee-level or just slightly lower and have a flat top surface. The best stumps have a wide surface area so as to accommodate the greatest number of games as more and more nails are driven in. Stumps with rotten wood or varying surface textures should be avoided, as this can result in one player gaining an advantage over his opponents due to his nail location. Different types of wood make for games of varying length and difficulty. For example, some wood types are soft enough for a solid hit to drive a 4-inch nail completely into the stump (and thus, in some cases, eliminate a player who has not yet taken a single turn), while other types are hard enough to necessitate several powerful blows before the nail is fully sunk. 4. Booze: Beer is the official beverage of Stump - other alcoholic beverages should be used only in a pinch. Make sure to have plenty - two 12 oz cans per person per game should be considered the minimum when you make the run to the store. Having too many beers on hand is always better than too few - there is nothing worse than a Stump session ending due to lack of beer - or, God forbid, running out of beer during the game-ending Waterfall. Before the Game Starts 1. One person should be designated to prepare the stump for play. After the first game, it is common for the winner to assume the honor of preparing the stump for the next game. 2. To prepare the stump, determine how many players (or teams) will participate in the game. One nail should be hammered into the top surface of the stump for each player. The nails should be hammered into the stump straight and as little as possible, however, they should be far enough in that they are sturdy and will not fling out if they are hit at an angle (usually an inch or so will do). The nails should be spread evenly in a circle around the surface of the stump. 3. Each player "claims" a nail by placing his or her foot on the stump next to the nail. This will be his nail for the duration of the game. It is generally understood that people will claim the nail directly in front of them, though this does not necessarily have to be the case. 4. Each player must have a beer (can, bottle, cup, or other suitable container containing beer) on his or her person (defined as being supported entirely by said person and their clothing, not by any other objects) at all times. The only exception to this rule is during Home Improvement (see Rules of Play), when a player can legally put his or her beer down until Home Improvement is completed. 5. It is general practice to use the claw of the hammer to open your beer, even if this means disrupting the course of play. Rules of Play The winner is the last player whose nail remains standing. 1. Each player, in turn, shall toss the hammer such that it makes at least one full 360-degree rotation before he touches it again. The player shall not be allowed more than one toss per turn for any reason (unless it is part of a Trick - see Rule 2a). 2. Once the hammer is caught the player shall attempt to bring it down immediately and without hesitation upon an opponent's nail, driving it into the stump. Any attempt at "cocking" or "aiming" the hammer shall be considered foul play and subject to criticism. 2a. The standard toss is a back flip, such that the hammer flips claw first. However, all non-standard tosses are acceptable and encouraged, provided the toss does not violate Rules 1 or 2. Non-standard tosses are often referred to as "Tricks". Click here for a list of Tricks and Trick Ideas. If the Trick includes a double toss (for example Under the Leg to Around the Back) it must remain a continuous motion and should not be an attempt to gain better control after a sub-par first toss. Attempting Tricks is considered to add general excitement to the game, and if successful, carries with it the potential for increased penalties for opponents (see Rule 3). 3. If a player succeeds in striking an opponent's nail, and the nail becomes visibly shorter or bent, that opponent shall sip from his beer an amount proportionate to the damage inflicted, with additional amounts consumed for any showmanship or Tricks displayed in the toss and catch (see Rule 2a), in which case the number of sips should be a direct reflection of the victim's respect for the Trick or showmanship. 4. If any player sees sparks resulting from the hammer striking a nail, it is a Social. Every player must take a sip from his own beer. The common announcement one makes when he sees sparks is "Spaaks!" - a throwback to the game's suspected New England origin. 5. If a player drops the hammer during the toss, it is considered a Spazz and the player loses his turn. The player must take a sip from his own beer. 5a. If a player drops the hammer during the toss, and the hammer comes to rest directly on top of the stump, the person in the direction the handle of the hammer is pointing must chug his entire beer. The toss is still considered a Spazz, and the player who tossed must take a sip from his own beer. 6. If a player's nail should become bent during the game, he may, during his turn only, choose to fix his own nail. This process is called "Home Improvement". The player can take as long as he likes to fix the nail to his satisfaction, though his efforts are subject to comment by the other players. It is considered honorable to ensure that the nail is straight and in a position to be hit cleanly. 6a. During Home Improvement, it is generally expected that all other players will place a foot on the stump for stability. 7. A player is eliminated from the game (and thereby takes no more turns) once any part of the head of his nail passes below the level of the surface of the stump (including bending over the edge of the stump without actually entering it). A generally accepted test of whether a player is still active is whether one can pass a fingernail underneath the head of the nail without obstruction. Any obstruction of free movement shall result in the player being deemed inactive. 8. Should a player's nail bend such that the head passes below the surface of the stump, thereby eliminating the player, this player can be resurrected if another player strikes the nail, regardless of intent, in such a way that the head of the nail emerges from the surface of the stump. The resurrected player will re-enter the game in the same rotation pattern as before elimination. 9. Inactive players should continue to comply with Rules 4, 5a, and 6a. After the Game Upon completion of a game (when only one nail remains standing), the players shall arrange themselves in order, clockwise around the stump, from first place to last place according to the results of the game. Each player should ensure that he or she has sufficient beer remaining. If not, he or she should prepare another beer. A "Waterfall" shall commence, whereby all players simultaneously begin chugging their beers (commonly after a toast to "The Stump"). The first place player can stop chugging at any time. The second place player must not stop chugging until after the first place player has stopped. The third place player must not stop chugging until after the second place player has stopped, and so on until the last place player chooses to stop drinking. It is considered foul play to "cheat" during the Waterfall, incorporating such tactics as pretending to drink, drinking very slowly, or creating a "lake" in your mouth. It is common for the winner of the game, should he choose to do so, to drive his own nail fully into the stump. Current Mood: drunk (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, June 19th, 2008
5:30 pm	Oh God Okay, this thing starts off looking pretty cool, but the more you watch it, the more it slowly starts to become David Lynch nightmare fuel: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=5349770802105160028 Current Mood: disturbed (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, June 17th, 2008
1:47 pm	0_o So, after having not seen them in about four or five years since they were lil' tykes, I had an afternoon visit at Panera Bread with two of my cousins, now thirteen and fifteen years old, respectively. I just found out not only do they both play World of Warcraft, they have several level 60 characters each. I don't know whether to be startled or pleased by this. Current Mood: WTF? (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, June 11th, 2008
10:58 am	*tear* Ouch, right in the bachelor's degree. Current Mood: discontent (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, April 24th, 2008
2:53 pm	Update? Haven't posted anything in a while, so here's a fairly accurate description of myself. My back kinda hurts. My Personality Neuroticism 15 Extraversion 60 Openness to Experience 57 Agreeableness 65 Conscientiousness 66 You rarely get angry and it takes a lot to make you angry, however high levels of stress can lead to you feeling panic or confusion, but usually you cope with day to day pressures. You are an active group participant but usually prefer to let someone else be the group leader. Familiar routines are good, but sometimes you like to spice up your life with a bit of adventure or activity. You dislike confrontations and are perfectly willing to compromise or to deny your own needs in order to get along with others, however you are willing to take credit for good things that you do but you don't often talk yourself up much. You have strong will-power and are able to overcome your reluctance to begin tasks. You are able to stay on track despite distractions. Take a Personality Test now or view the full Personality Report. The best UGG Boots. Current Mood: in pain (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 11th, 2008
8:31 am	More sins? Now what'll I have to do? So, more reason that I'm glad I don't practice Catholicism. The Vatican has issued a decree of seven new sins in addition to the good ol' standbys. The seven social sins are: 1. "Bioethical" violations such as birth control 2. "Morally dubious" experiments such as stem cell research 3. Drug abuse 4. Polluting the environment 5. Contributing to widening divide between rich and poor 6. Excessive wealth 7. Creating poverty Apparently, the Pope has forgotten that one of our greatest heroes is already on task to combating most of these vices. Go Planet! Current Mood: awake Current Music: "See Who I Am" by Within Temptation (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, March 6th, 2008
2:10 am	Gamers mourn R.I.P., Gary Gygax. You will be... *rolls D20* ...sorely missed. Current Mood: somber (Comment on this)
Saturday, February 23rd, 2008
1:50 pm	Fun sexy dreams After waking up from hours of amazing tantric dream-sex with a sultry, mysterious brunette, I can only hope that she actually exists somewhere out there and had the same dream about me last night. Current Mood: contemplative Current Music: "Balls Out" by The Bloodhound Gang (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 22nd, 2008
2:40 pm	Stupid sexy dreams As much as being a single dish again is sorta okay, I do obviously miss certain aspects of having a close female companion, and apparently my subconscious is trying to drill that concept into the other parts of my brain. Last night I had a dream where I was sitting in the corner of some room, playing my DS, while a minor sort of party was going on around me. My friend Collin walks over with an attractive, long-haired brunette and asks "Hey, JP, what does this tell you about this girl?" In response, she briskly walks over and slowly runs a finger from the bottom of my stomach to the middle of my chest and then bounces back, waiting for my response. *blink blink* Now, as every geeky guy can probably attest, this poses a dilemma where the male brain is forced to fight between its two main loves: Video games and sex. Spending too much time with either one isn't really healthy or ideal, but then again, it's not always the easiest thing in the world to flip-flop from one to the other. Not realizing this is, in fact, a vivid sleep-hallucination, I'm suddenly thrust into this highly improbable scenario and am understandably dumbfounded. Fortunately for this little role-play, I quickly realize the gravity of the situation, and switch into Rico Suave mode, completely ignoring the logical part of my brain which might question why Collin is having this babe toy with my head, and I don't mean the one on my shoulders. And so, not wanting to let a good thing pass, I set aside my DS, performed a quick once-over with my eyes, and replied, "Well, she seems to be playful and outgoing." I fight with the honest part of my brain that also wants to add "manipulative." I get to my feet and sidle over to her to continue, "But are you also... spontaneous?" She says, "Sure" and I take the opportunity to move in for a deep kiss. She obliges for a good, long moment, and we part. Damn, I'm smooth. Not missing a beat, I say "You're also a good kisser." Then I follow by extending my right hand. "I'm Jon, by the way." And the dream ends and I'm awake in my bed. Then there's that brief second where you become painfully aware of your surroundings, followed by the inevitable: "fffffFUCK!" Current Mood: unsatisfied Current Music: "Stevie" by (həd) p.e. (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, February 5th, 2008
10:51 am	Where I've been and how I've been dying So, I figure I should enlighten some of you who I haven't been in personal contact with recently as to my current situation. I'm not cutting this since I think it's important that you should all know how I'm doing. In short, I was admitted to the hospital the other day, fixed up, and released as if nothing had ever happened, but the truth is that I was in pretty bad shape. For those of you who are somehow still unaware, I'm still struggling with ulcerative colitis, which is really only a personal problem unless I have to use your bathroom, and for that, I'm really sorry if I did and made it smell like a restaurant's grease trap on a hot, sunny day. Anyway, for the last probably couple of months now, I'd been noticing that minor activities, even such as climbing a short flight of stairs, would make my heart race like I'd been having a marathon of sex. Now, I may not be getting the exercise these days that I used to as a full-time student walking around campus, but this was starting to concern me a bit, even though I didn't seek medical attention because I thought it was just my body being a wuss from the colitis. Last Monday, I woke up with a hacking cough, having managed about three hours of sleep. I was able to zombie-stumble downstairs, shower off, and collapsed on the couch for a couple of hours, waking up feeling even worse. I had felt my bile rising after my shower, and the room had been spinning. My heart was pounding out of my chest non-stop since I had taken my shower, so my mom took my temperature. One hundred four degrees. For those of you who maybe have never run a fever that high, 104 is the point where you start hallucinating dragons or some shit, so I had begun to develop the ability to single out individual air molecules. So here I find myself, laying around, praying for death with a cold compress on my forehead, and drinking as much water as I can while following lazily-floating subatomic particles with my eyes. My mom wisely decides to schedule an afternoon doctor's appointment, somewhat unlike her, since those of you who have met my mom would know that she'd just as soon pump me full of vitamin supplements than pay $90 to have a doctor take my blood pressure and then tell me to just drink lots of fluids. Regardless, I went in at 1:30. Upon opening the waiting room door, the nurse practitioner immediately said "You look sick" and beckoned me inside. Apparently I had monopolized the white on rice since there was no color in my face. She took my vitals and ordered some blood drawn to be immediately tested. I got a little wheelchair ride back out to the waiting room where I sat among lots of sick people, marinating in the hospital stink of sterility wafting around me until the nurse reappeared about an hour later and hastily summoned me back to the exam room. The nurse looked me in the eye and said "You. Are. Going. To. The hospital." as matter-of-factly as that and proceeded to tell me that I was, no exaggeration, almost dead. My hemoglobin was at a critical 4.4 when it should have been no lower than 12. I was literally not making any red blood cells or getting enough oxygen around. In other words, severely, severely anemic, except with one foot in the grave. I weighed in at 142 pounds. Additionally, my potassium was low as well as my liver enzymes and God knows what else. While I goggled over this new information, the nurse informed me that I was to be immediately taken to an ICU room to receive a transfusion of 6 units of blood, some antibiotics and steroids, along with some potassium replacement. I couldn't argue with this diagnosis, so I weakly agreed, realizing that I was about to cost my parents a whole lot of money. They assembled a room in short order, and I was wheeled upstairs to a section of our hospital I'd never seen. The following hours became a blur of changing into one of those ever-so-lovely drafty hospital gowns, needles and more needles, and becoming acclimated to the fact that I wasn't going to get to take a dump by myself for a while. The nurse on duty grilled me for a while to make sure I wasn't killing myself with drugs or having sex with hookers or anything, and then suddenly it was time for the needles. Now, I used to give blood on a routine basis, so I'm no stranger to having things stabbed into my arm, but I'd never actually received blood before, much less ever been admitted to the hospital. Being transfused is a much more fun experience, and by "fun," I mean you get to have an inch-and-a-half plastic catheter inserted into your vein instead of a needle. Not only did this REALLY HURT, but after the blinding pain finally subsided, the nurse called for a clean sheet. I looked over and saw a spreading pool of blood about the circumference of a cereal bowl under my arm. Great. At least she managed to get it in all the way. After being cleaned up, I was informed that some of my blood was to be drawn constantly to check on my various levels. Of course, they also needed stool and urine samples, to which I obliged, not always eager, but almost always able to produce at the drop of a hat. They also x-rayed me in the bed with a portable machine. A phlebotomist came in to start what would become a very tedious procedure of being stabbed at least once every four hours, sometimes sooner, by a different person each time. Fortunately, I can't complain too much, since only one of them was actually inept at her job, while the rest were very attractive young ladies who are quite deft at jabbing needles into people and stealing their blood. I finally received my first bag of blood almost six hours after I had been admitted, since they take the time to test the blood for everything under the sun. By this time, I had at least gotten to "eat," though they forbade me from having anything that resembled actual food, so I was stuck with orange jell-o, vaguely-fruit-flavored protein drink, other vaguely-fruit-flavored drink, hot water and dehydrated chicken broth in a little packet, and italian ice substitute. Everything they ever said about hospital food is entirely true. Hours later, I had begun to finally relax, having figured out how to work the TV, which for a time was the only salvation I had in the place. I sent my parents away and wisely asked my mom to bring my Nintendo DS next time she showed up. A new nurse took up the shift and intoduced himself as Nathan, a strapping young lad of 26 who I could imagine was quite the stud in nursing school. Hell, he was even a geek, too, admitting that he was currently playing Final Fantasy XII and had just picked up Champions of Norrath. I don't know how he kept the ladies off of him. Seriously, this guy had a chiseled jawline, well-defined muscles, a charming demeanor, and a pleasant smell. Additionally, a noticeably big package. Those hospital scrubs don't hide anything, especially when you're reclining on a hospital bed at crotch-level. Also, I'm totally not gay. Nathan later administered another IV line into my other arm for an antibiotic drip. While it was going into a larger vein than on the other arm, he failed to successfully insert the catheter the first time, noting that I had tough skin, but I gritted my teeth and had him try again, because I wasn't going to deny what little masculinity I had left by admitting how painful it was. I am a MAN. And if hairy, primitive men could handle being stung by mad, primitive hornets with harpoon-stingers every day, I could handle this. I began to settle into a schedule which involved a rotation something like this: Change blood. Go to bathroom. Change antibiotics. Go to bathroom. Get blood pressure taken. Go to bathroom. Get temperature taken. Get blood taken. Go to bathroom. Repeat endlessly, and don't sleep at all in between every step. I started to feel really bad for Nathan, because I was constantly hitting the "Call Nurse" button just so he could come in and unplug my machine, wheel it over to the bathroom, wait for me to crap in a plastic hat suspended over the bowl, pee in a jug, and then wheel me back over and hook me up again. Also, from what I'm assuming was a side effect of the drugs, my stools were GREEN, and I hated that he had to see that every time he would have to empty the waste and record the difference in my fluid intake and expulsion. I wasn't enjoying feeling like a useless bag full of crap and urine that had to be carried around everywhere, but what else could I do? I'm amazed at how humble he was about the whole thing, saying "Comes with the territory. But I actually like it." Before I knew it, it was morning, and I was winding down to the last of my six bags of blood. A nurse earlier had remarked that I must have had the constitution of an ox to not have felt as sickly as I looked, also adding that I would feel substantially better after the blood was mine. Aside from the complete lack of sleep, I actually did feel pretty good. I amused myself with the thought that I had vampirically absorbed the life essence of six delicious A-Positive donors, and while I hadn't begun to manifest any mutant powers, I did feel a boost from their strength. The next day was a bit of a blur as I bid Nathan goodbye and met the next nurse who was in charge of my fluids. I don't remember her name, and it's not important, so we'll leave it at that. The best thing she did for me was inform me that I was allowed to eat solid food again, which was a hidden joy that I shall always treasure. The steroids I was getting had the side effect of giving me the munchies like nothing else, and I absolutely destroyed the fried chicken they gave me at noon. Towards the evening, I was informed that my hemoglobin was at 9.8 and that I was close to my last blood draw. Already I felt like a new man and this news relieved me further, as at this point I'd been pierced 11 times, not counting the two IVs in my arm. I estimate that they'd taken between 25 and 30 vials of blood by now, and it was beginning to show in a little half-moon arc of pinprick-bruise on my inner elbow. I was beginning to think they weren't so much testing my blood in the lab as they were painting some macabre picture with all of it. The nurse hooked up the last of my antibiotic drips and made herself scarce. I browsed the internet on my DS, happy to have the access. Around 3 a.m., my medical ball-and-chain beeped, informing the world that I was done with the antibiotics. The nurse came, unscrewed the IV from my catheter, and asked if I wanted some drugs to help me sleep. Since I'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep since I had been admitted, I heartily agreed. She gave me a tiny pill that was labeled "Temazepam," a drug which I would later mentally file into the "Fear and Loathing" section of Jon-drugs, a wicked category shared by Nyquil, which never fails to give me fucked-up dreams. Sure enough, the Temazepam knocked me out within about a half hour, but I found myself suddenly awakened to a whirlwind frenzy of complete and utter chaos some three hours later. I vaguely remember a nurse offering me a fresh gown, since the one I was in was literally drenched in sweat. She also gave me a pair of hospital pants, except I'm a little hesitant to call them "pants." These had a large V cut into the front, with a tie above it around the waist, and no snap. So, I slipped these on and noticed that the V was right at my crotch, allowing my junk to hang out for all the world to see if not for the gown. I tried to mentally process if there was any point to wearing these at all, but I was too stoned to really care. I halfway remember stumbling to the bathroom, changing, coming back, and being stabbed yet again by another phlebotomist, then lapsing back into unconsciousness almost as soon as she taped on the gauze. The next recollection I have is waking up at about 7 a.m. with my doctor talking to me, which makes me a bit uneasy because of all the potential subliminal things that he probably said. I think he was informing me of my progress, but I can't be certain since I was still too high on the Temazepam. After he left, a nurse informed me that I'd probably get to go home later in the afternoon. I steadily regained complete control over my faculties, and eagerly awaited the chance to get the damn plastic tubes out of my arms. Hours later, I ate another lunch which tasted way better than it probably should have, had my IVs pulled out, and was released back into the world. I could have done a cartwheel. I left with a laundry list of prescriptions to further ensure my recovery, including an antibiotic, Prednisone, and iron tablets. Though probably attributed to the drugs, amazingly, my colitis has been the best it has in what must be two years. I certainly can't complain. I don't care if it grosses anyone out, but I'm proud to say that I'm producing stools that are almost completely normal. (read: solid) I look at myself in the mirror and actually see color in my face, and my lips and gums are a darker shade of red than I can remember seeing in a very long time. I notice brightness in my eyes again, I have energy for once, I don't feel like crap all the time, and I'm gaining weight back. I'm going to start working out again because I finally feel up to it now. I've kept on the hospital bracelets they gave me and I plan to do so indefinitely as a reminder to keep better tabs on maintaining this degree of health. I am NOT going back to being sick again. Thanks for supporting me for so long through all this, guys. Current Mood: healthy (17 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 27th, 2007
10:53 am	Cross-posted from Too Much Info I was reminded of an amusing incident that happened to me quite a few years ago now. Back when I was a younger teenager, I had been a Boy Scout. The "Scout" half of this membership means my Troop went on lots of camping trips and had plenty of opportunities to interact with nature in a colorful variety of ways. (We once tried to make a toad and a snake battle each other like Pokémon, but that's a different story.) And, of course, the "Boy" half of this membership entails that I, being male, was naturally prone to doing lots of reckless (read: awesome) things and being an overall jackass. (We had roman-candle-trashcan-lid duels on more than one occasion, but again, different story.) On one such camping trip, we'd brought along some of the Troop canoes for an afternoon expedition on a local creek. After paddling along for several hours, stopping several times along the way to carry the canoes over shallow waters, we found a small inlet where the water was about four feet deep or so that made for a perfect "swimming hole." Since we were all pretty much soaked already, we beached the canoes and swam around for a while. (Horsing around in murky, bacteria-ridden water? Hot damn, where do I sign up?!) Near the edge of the shore, next to a small copse of cattails, we noticed the floating remains of a fairly large catfish, probably three feet long. Now, kids, when you find a dead animal, what's the natural response to said discovery? That's right! You poke it with sticks and desecrate its body! Anyway, we had a few jollies chucking rocks at this hapless decedent for a while until my friend Collin had the brilliant idea to find the biggest rock possible and just blast the sucker. So he fishes around on the bottom of the creek until he hoists up a boulder about the size of a football that must've weighed about thirty or forty pounds. He lifts the quarry overhead and heaves it at this catfish corpse, scoring a direct hit which immediately bent the fish in half and sank it to the bottom with a massive splash like a depth charge going off. Suffice to say, it was pretty bitchin'. As cool as it was, though, my Spidey-sense told me this would only end in tears, so I took a few steps backward toward the shoreline. Collin's brother, Adam, however, was still in the water, about seven feet away from the site of the shipwreck. It'd been about two minutes, and we were watching small bubbles rise to the surface, wondering when the fish would bob back to the top. Without warning, Adam starts freaking out and flailing around in the water like he was possessed. "Huuuuaaaghghghghggghhh! Gahhhhhh!" A few frantic seconds later, the fish casually breaks the surface, only with a massive gash in its side and two-foot-long white intestines like thick silly string hanging out of the wound. Apparently, not only had the fish broken free of the rock and bobbed right under his crotch, but its now-free guts had somehow entangled completely around his leg. Of course, while he was still clawing at his leg and twitching like Michael J. Fox, we were rolling around choking with laughter. After that incident, we preferred to let dead animals lie. :) Current Mood: giddy (7 Comments |Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 13th, 2007
9:30 am	Where do you want to go when you die? The by-the-book, Miss America response to the above question tends to be "Heaven." Some people, eyes glittering with child-like innocence, might say "Disneyland." Or, if you're a member of Da Vinci's Notebook, you might consider the two synonymous. Regardless, much like the somewhat hush-hush deaths that have occurred on Disneyland grounds, apparently there is also a lesser-discussed, covert practice come to light recently, in which it has been discovered that the ashes of some of the apparently most fanatical (read: nutjob) would-be Mouseketeers are scattered among the likes of Cap'n Jack Sparrow and his skeletal companions. Now, as much as I might appreciate a visit to sunny California, I could care less about being placed there posthumously, though I think I would prefer that my remains be respectfully dealt with, rather than end up as refuse to be unceremoniously vacuumed up by park staff. I say, hell, if you want to be dead at Disney so badly, might as well go all out and orchestrate some elaborate scheme in your will to have all your flesh stripped off and your skeleton added to the rest of the ghoulish Pirates cast, right? Current Mood: weird (Comment on this)
Friday, October 19th, 2007
3:19 pm	My status Recently, some of my friends have called me out on my recent behavior; that I'm acting dull and sluggish, irritable, and not always wanting to hang out or participate in things with them. This is not necessarily the case. I wanted to put things in perspective so people understand where I'm coming from when I say "Nah, I think I'll just stay in tonight." One friend said it was a little annoying that I seemed to make excuses for not wanting to go out, and would simply have me give it to her straight and say "No, I don't feel like it." That's the problem, though--I DO feel like going out. I do enjoy spending time with my friends, whom I love dearly. I just don't always feel up to snuff, physically. That same friend also told me "You've changed." Yes, I have changed, but it's not a change I chose. Let me clarify. For those of you who still don't know, I was diagnosed with a "mild" form of ulcerative colitis about a year ago. I literally haven't had a solid stool in almost two years now. I'm in the bathroom four to eight times a day, on average. Alterations to my diet haven't done a thing, and the herbal supplements I take don't really seem to have much of an impact, either. My body, at times, treats me like I'm much older. At 23, I don't feel quite so young and as full of vitality as I once was. I constantly feel more weary and debilitated than I used to, even in recent years. I don't think I'm always getting all the nutrients I need. Younger people tend to act like they're invincible or that nothing bad will ever happen to them. Those rare few who contract HIV or some form of cancer are in the absolute minority, and while there is sympathy felt for those people, there's also the mentality that "It'll never happen to me." I feel like this disease is essentially my "cancer." I'm being completely serious now, so I want you all to understand that when I have to get up at 4:00 in the morning and run to the bathroom and see a toilet bowl swirling with blood and completely undigested bits of food, it's not totally inappropriate for me to say that... I sometimes feel like I'm dying a little bit. Now, before you all panic and start dialing hotlines, I'm not terminally ill or suicidal or anything like that. But when you wonder why I'm so skinny, can't put on any weight, have difficulty building muscle mass, or might not always laugh aloud at one of your jokes, this is the reason for that, and I think you'd feel the same way if you were in my shoes. I don't always feel that fire in my eyes that I used to have, but I am, by no means, simply giving up. As far as I know from what the gastroenterologist told me, one of the only drug-related interventions for this disease is treatment by steroids, which can have a long-term effect on the durability of one's hipbones. I don't want to consider this option right now because I don't want to have my hip replaced when I'm 40. My main point is, please, don't be offended if I turn down an offer to get out and do something. I'm not being antisocial, I just don't always have it in me. Current Mood: somber (11 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, September 19th, 2007
11:21 am	Quiz? Verily. Here's a quiz, since I honestly don't remember the last time I actually participated in one of these. 1. Is your second toe longer than your first? I wish, but no. 2. Do you have a favorite type of pen? Those jet-black rollerball ones. I think they're made by Pentech. One time, when I was about seven or eight or so, I was doodling with one of those pens in church and bent the tip. The ink wasn't flowing, so I took the pen into the bathroom, and sucked on the tip, hard, to try and get it flowing again. I got a whole mouthful of all the ink from the reservoir. Fortunately, there was a sink right in front of me, but it looked like some weird alien spawn when I spit it all out. 3. Look at your planner for Oct 5th, what are you doing? I usually don't plan that far ahead unless it's something important. Yeeep, I'm a really responsible person. 4. What color are your toenails usually? Toenail-colored. 5. What was the last thing you highlighted? Maybe some notes last year? I usually don't highlight my notes. 6. What color are your bedroom curtains? Here at school? Beige. At home? I have blinds, not curtains. 7. What color are the seats in your car? Sort of a dingy gray-ish. 8. Have you ever had a black and white cat? No. :( 9. What is the last thing you put a stamp on? My last payment to my credit card company. 10. Do you know anyone who lives in Wyoming? No. 11. Why did you withdraw cash from the ATM the last time? To pay back Robie for rent. 12. Whose is the last baby that you held? I seriously don't remember. I try not to voluntarily hold babies. 13. Unlucky #? Zero. 14. Do you like Cinnamon toothpaste? I'd try anything once. 15. What kind of car were you driving 2 years ago? I only got my car fairly recently, so my bike. :( 16. Pick one: Miami Hurricanes or Florida Gators? No. 17. Last time you went to Six Flags? Probably about five or six years ago. 18. Do you have any wallpaper in your house? At home, yes. My house is really old and some rooms have half a dozen layers that just kept getting papered over. I know this because I'm usually drafted to help scrape it all off when we're repainting rooms, ugh. 19. Closest thing to you that is yellow? The lightning bolt on my Flash shirt. 20. Last person to give you a business card? Probably my dad, actually. 21. Who is the last person you wrote a check to? The faceless entity that is Citicard. 22. Closest framed picture to you? The picture Kari commissioned from Leia of she and I as furries. 23. Last time you had someone cook for you? Leia cooked stir-fry for us last night. Nom nom nom 24. Have you ever applied for welfare? No, and I hope I never have to. 25. How many email addresses do you have? Three, but I only actively check one. 26. Last time you received flowers? I don't know. :( 27. Do you think the sanctity of marriage is meant for only a man & woman? Nah. 28. Do you play air guitar? Not professionally. 29. Has anyone ever proposed to you? No. 30. Do you take anything with your coffee? Not at all. I want to be able to taste it black. 31. Do you have any Willow Tree figurines? I don't know what that is. 32. What is/was your high school's rival mascot? Schools have mascots? I literally attended ONE basketball game in four years of high school, and that was to meet someone from the band. I don't even know what OUR mascot was. 33. Last person you spoke to from high school? Probably Collin. 34. Last time you used hand sanitizer? In the lobby of Health Services, I think. 35. Would you like to learn to play the drums? I'd give it a shot. 36. What color are the blinds in your living room? We have a big curtain that's white. 38. Last thing you read in the newspaper? OJ getting busted for armed robbery. 39. What was the last graduation you attended? My brother's high school graduation. 40. What is the last place you bought pizza from? Chubby's Pizza, and it was greasy and delicious. 41. Have you ever worn a crown? Does Burger King count? 42. What is the last thing you stapled? A writing assignment for Dr. Eckert's class. 43. Have you ever drank clear pepsi? My parents didn't allow me to drink soda before I was thirteen, so I didn't have any of this stuff when it was still around. 44. Are you ticklish? Just my feet, kinda. 45. Last time you saw fireworks? The Fourth of July, from atop a grain silo. It was pretty dangerous climbing up there, but an awesome view. 46.Last time you had a doughnut? Some doughnuts from Casey's, with Monster canned coffee. Nom nom nom 47. Who is the last person that left you a message & you actually returned it? People haven't been leaving messages for a while, so probably when Erin was waiting for me to come downstairs to the lobby, and called while I was in the bathroom to say "You're a whore." 48. Last time you parked under a carport? When Kari and I went to the mall in Indianapolis. 49. Do you have a black dog? I had one, years and years ago. I used to try and ride her like a horse. She didn't like that much, though. 50 . Have you had your mid life crisis yet? Not yet. 51. Are you an aunt or uncle? No, and I probably never will be, given my brother's luck with women. 52. Who has the prettiest eyes that you know of? Kari. She has cat-eyes. 53. Anything annoying you right now? I have a paper hanging over my head, but once I start, it won't be so bad. 54. Do you remember Ugly Kid Joe? Vaguely. I saw someone who had Ugly Kid Joe decals stuck on their van some months ago. 55. Do you have a little black dress? Sure, I love to feel pretty. >_> Current Mood: hacking up a lung (Comment on this)
Monday, August 27th, 2007
8:55 pm	tl;dr: I hate sports I just completed a paper for my Sociology of Sport class, which details my experience with sports in general. I essentially wrote it like a Livejournal entry, so I'm cross-posting it here. It's been cut for length, but I hope you find it entertaining. ( Read more... ) And here's a pretty comic that summarizes my sentiments exactly: Current Mood: accomplished (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, August 26th, 2007
9:59 pm	7 random facts about me I wasn't tagged (I don't think), but I wanted to do this anyway. 1. I've always been a really good speller, but I got second place in the 5th grade Spelling Bee, because I lost to Brandon Judd by misspelling "pursuit" as "persuit." I walked off the stage and went to the boy's bathroom to cry. 2. I once found a lost wallet in the ball pit at McDonald's when I was probably 10 or 11. It had about $9 in it, which I kept, and I actually kept the wallet and used it for about 4 years, I think. I think it was actually a girl's wallet, because it had a round metal thing on the front of it with something like "KZ" embossed on it. I just ripped the metal part out of the leather and it looked fine. 3. One of the only things that I think I've ever shoplifted was a pack of Grape Bubbalicious bubble gum from Kroger when I was 8. I chewed maybe two or three pieces, and stashed the rest of the pack in a hole in the wall in our stairwell. (The wall was made of cheap fiberboard stuff, and I had chipped away at it with a knife to make a "secret" hiding space.) Of course, since the hole was in plain sight, my mom found the gum, questioned me about it, and took me back to Kroger to return it. I remember handing it to some random checkout clerk, who said "Uhhh... thanks for being honest?" He was probably a teenage employee who didn't even give a crap, but took it back anyway. 4. I wasn't breathing when I was born, and was jaundiced. They had to put me in an oxygen chamber. I guess I turned out okay, though. 5. I've always had a problem when I was younger with laughing nervously when someone got hurt. It's not that I thought it was funny, I just couldn't help it. I used to have my younger brother tell me his stories of witnessing kids getting seriously injured on the playground (like, breaking limbs from falling off playground equipment and getting gravel embedded in their faces from taking an accidental running dive on the blacktop) to satisfy my morbid curiosity. I've never broken anything, either. 6. I seriously wanted to be an archaeologist when I was younger. I once dug a hole in my mom's garden (post-harvest) that was about 6 or 7 feet deep. I actually had to rig a rope so I could get out of it, and I also found a ton of stuff, since our house is well over 100 years old. I excavated a bunch of bent nine inch nails, some coins, plastic and metal army men, brooches, and other bric-a-brac. Also, I could correctly spell "archaeologist" when I was in 1st Grade. 7. I used to wear my hair parted off to the side when I was much younger. I started parting it down the middle in 6th Grade, and wore it that way all the way through High School. No wonder I never dated anybody until I got to College. That's also why I grew my hair out--so it would look better with the part. Current Mood: bored Current Music: Tool - Wings for Marie (Pt. 1) (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, August 17th, 2007
1:32 am	Blah. I've been in a pissy mood all day today and I'm really not sure why. Actually, come to think of it, it's probably because there's so many goddamned people on campus again, and they all look like Freshmen. Here's hoping I find a fairly humble abode to reside in after I graduate at this semester's end. So, on Friday, I drove back home for what was originally supposed to be one or two nights, but ended up being nearly a week. I'm not admitting that I particularly missed my family, but it was nice to see them again. My dad kindly accompanied me to Meineke in Bloomington to replace the outer CV Boots on my front axles, as well as the brake pads. This was an unexpected surprise, as after summer living expenses and other debts had been paid off, I ended with a paltry $350 in the bank that I'm not ready to spend frivolously if I can avoid it. We also stopped by Best Buy, where I grabbed a $10 of Harvest Moon DS, a deal too good to pass up. While I was in the store, the urge to defecate struck me, and I headed to the bathrooms. There were, of course, only two stalls, and one was occupied, so I entered the open handicap-accessible stall. Upon closing the door, I noticed that it was outfitted with not one, but three lock implements. One was the sliding kind, one was the cylindrical locking bolt, and the third was the built-into-the-door-turn-knob-that-is-supposed-to-fit-in-a-latch. However, the slider was hanging loosely, the bolt lock didn't even have the necessary cylinder to fit into place, and the turn-lock didn't have the latch built into the frame! Immediately, an inner voice told me, "That's just asking to get walked in on." And sure enough, not even 30 seconds into my business, I heard the inevitable approaching footsteps, and the door blasted wide open, with a confused guy swinging inward with the door like Kramer, then turning red and swinging right back out the way he came. Having sensed this coming a few seconds before he revealed me to the world, I averted my gaze slightly down and to the right so as only to see him out of my periphery, and upon his entry, gave him a tip of the index finger from my eyebrow, as if to wordlessly say, "Yeeeeep, that's me crappin', there, Chief." I complained about the lack of working mechanisms to my cashier as I checked out, who simultaneously happened to be female and quite amused by this, as if she realized what had happened. She told me, "I'll tell a manager," but I'm sure she won't. Oh well. A couple nights ago, Collin dropped by to see if I was around, and I went with him on an impromptu impulse shopping spree for geeky board games in Springfield. We picked up an expansion to "Arkham Horror," a Call of Cthulhu game that I quite enjoy, and "Fury of Dracula," which we ultimately spent two nights in a row playing. It's kind of like "Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego," except instead of attempting to arrest a country-hopping art thief, she's playing the role of the penultimate nocturnal aristocrat tooling around Europe circa 1898. And you're trying to drive a wooden stake through her heart. Good times. ... Now I'm bored and don't feel like writing any more tonight. I wish some people would get down here so I have someone to talk to. Current Mood: discontent Current Music: Nightwolf - Bohren und Der Club of Gore (4 Comments |Comment on this)