Ya Had To Be There

It's my impression that you can't call someone your friend until you have an "inside joke" with them. You know, those random sayings that make you double over with laughter while everyone else wonders whether you're safe to touch because you might have mad cow disease?

These jokes are the glue that hold a great friendship together. Random experiences that get brought up repeatedly when there's nothing else to talk about, and can entertain you for hours on end.

My group of high school friends and I are some of the tightest knit people I know, and well...let's just say that if we decided to reminisce on all of our inside jokes in public, there'd be some nice men with fancy jackets waiting for us.

Right, Mr. Gilbride, I'm sure you really are Sneezy the Dwarf. Now just bend over and I'll give you some medicine that will make allllllll your sneezes go away. You can trust me...I'm a doctor.

For instance, I can pretty much reduce my friend Renae to tears of mirth by saying "nerka nerka." Get it? No? Yeah, that's my point here.

My friend Brandon and I don't say "month" anymore. We say "nibth." It's not because we have brain lesions, it's just hysterical to us.

I literally don't call my one friend by her first name anymore. It's Quiermo, always.

And don't even get me started on Spetznaz hiccups. Hoo-boy those were some good times.

So, in order to make this post more than me rambling on about jokes that make no sense to you, I propose a discussion. Do you agree that good friends need to have some sort of in-joke? Do you have friends like this? And if you're feeling really adventurous, let me know what some of these jokes are! I won't judge you much.

A Plea On Behalf of My Sanity

(note: the following is a piece of creative writing with the intention of making my roommate clean up his shit)

I couldn't have known it would have ended like this. It was so innocent. So simple. And now I huddle here, in the desolation that used to be the vibrant, active athletic center of my campus, armed with nothing but a rowing oar I found in the crew locker room. I fear I have little time. I chronicle the beginning of this event so that future generations can learn from our mistakes, and perhaps...blame someone.

We're college students. I mean, no one wants to wash dishes. Sure, when Quin ate that easy mac no one thought the bowl would be clean any time soon, but we couldn't have anticipated this.

Weeks went by. The bowl sat on the dresser top. It became almost a joke. "Oh yeah Quin it's cool, don't clean that bowl, it's practically part of the room now. Decorative!" Everyone laughed. No one is laughing now...they're all gone.

It started with the dreams. Horribly vivid scenes of cheese crusted bowls suffocating people by diving onto their faces like facehuggers from Alien. As one is wont to do, I just dismissed them as nightmares. I should have seen it coming. I should have stopped this. But I'd be damned if I was going to wash that dish. It wasn't mine, let Quin wash his own crap.

A few weeks later, I started hearing whispers in my ear. Malicious whispers. Their blood will be on your hands, Erich. It said. I was afraid, but what could I do? I couldn't tell anyone what was happening, they'd think I was crazy! Maybe I thought I was crazy too. Maybe that's why I didn't reach out. "Tomorrow I go home for Christmas break," I told myself. "Quin will clean the bowl before he leaves, I'll have a month off, and everything will be fine."

Upon returning to campus I met up with my roommate before even going back to the room. We had lunch and then decided to go back to our room. "It'll be nice to see the room without that stupid bowl of mac&cheese." I laughed.

"Nah, bro, I didn't have time to clean that thing before I left, so it's still in there." He laughed as he inserted his key into the lock. It was the last sentence he ever spoke.

He opened the door and some...thing attacked him. It was a golem made of cheese and fungus with razor sharp macaroni noodles for teeth. It's jaws closed around Quin's head and my roommate was no more.

Forgive me, I had little time, but this is essentially what it looked like. Terrifying I know.

The beast looked at me and I swear it grinned, it's teeth filled with the remains of my roommate. I cried out for help and began to ran. More people came into the hall to see what the commotion was about. I didn't look behind me as a ran, but I know they met the same fate as Quin.

It's been six days since then. I feel the beast has been purposely avoiding hunting me down. He's making me watch what I have wrought. Making me sit by and observe as everyone else on campus suffers for what I have done...or what I didn't do.

But campus is nearly empty, and he's running out of targets. It will be my time soon. I shall fight the beast to the best of my ability. I shall try to stop him. But he has grown too powerful, and I feel I shall join the ranks of the lost. And for this I am sorry.

(Sorry if this post is a little different from regularly scheduled content, but seriously Quin, clean your shit up. This bowl is going to achieve sentience soon, and if these events come to pass it will be all my fault. Hope you guys liked this)

Somewhere Out There I'm a Centaur

Let me break this down for you. I'm going to give you free reign to say anything you want as a pick up line by using physics. Anything.

Now I know that some of you may react to the word physics by locking your door and hiding under your blankets reading a book by flashlight, and as much as I support doing that because it's totally sweet, stick around and hear me out. This is cool, I promise.

We all have a good grasp on our three dimensional world. The zeroth dimension is a single point. The first dimension is a flat line between two points. The second and third dimensions can be a bit tougher to explain without getting into too many mathematical terms about axes and whatnot, which I don't really feel like going into here because it'll just bog down the post. So, since everything we know is three-dimensional, I'm going to go ahead and figure you have a grasp on what the third dimension is.

 This is the third dimension. It's not very impressive. It's not very complicated. But try explaining it.

Here's where it get's fun. Beyond the 3rd dimension are, logically, more dimensions. Accessing the fourth dimension would allow us to cut through three-dimensional space, and as cool as that sounds, we aren't even where I want to get yet. Remember, I'm claiming that you have to power to tell anyone anything you want about yourself and it will be true.

The seventh, eighth, and ninth dimensions are where we are headed. These dimensions actually deal with our universe and the branches it can take. These dimensions are where we encounter something called the Multiverse Theory.

Here's where we were trying to get to. The Multiverse Theory means that there are an infinite number of alternate universes, each bound by its own rules, i.e. separate from the rules that define our universe. If you aren't seeing the possibilities here, let me clarify this. It means that if you think about something, anything, and deem it even remotely possible, somewhere out there it's happening. 

That cute girl / guy you saw at the mall? You're married to them somewhere.

The job interview you didn't do to well on? You're CEO of that company somewhere.

Wish you could fly? Yeah, that's probably happening somewhere. 

My blog is making me rich and famous? Well, I'm gonna see if I can't make that happen in this universe...

Consider your head exploded.

So, ladies and gentlemen, the next time you're out hitting the town and feel like trying to impress members of the opposite sex (or even the same sex, if that's your thing) tell them you're a billionaire astronaut who cures cancer with your tears when you aren't on the clock as a supermodel, because somewhere out there you just might be.

Far Too Excited For a Felon

I was so close. So...so close. But no, it was snatched away at the last minute. This is the story of my near triumph that was stolen away by the man in uniform.

I do not drink. And by that I don't mean I used to be a wild party-going fiend but then gave it up and I turned over a new leaf and now I'm sober and nurse kittens back to health by producing my own milk, because that just isn't me. I just mean that I've chosen not to drink until I'm legal. No real reason, I just have no interest in it.

Now, in my town there is a night club that has an underage night on Thursdays. Once my friends and I turned 18, we made a habit of frequenting this nightclub and soberly fist pumping the hell out of that place.

And we managed to do it without looking stupid, either.

So you see that all of this was totally legal, harmless fun. I had a great time on this one particular night, and left the club in the wee hours of the morn. And this is where the story really begins.

Downtown is very well lit at night. Remarkably so. Couple that with the fact that my dad's car's headlights are terribly dim, and it's entirely feasible that I simply forgot to turn my headlights on. I didn't drive two blocks from the club when the siren went off, and the police lights nearly blinded me from my rear view mirror.

Like everyone should, I pulled over. This cop was not having a good day, and I could see that he just wanted to nail me for drunk driving. I started getting excited.

Cop: Excuse me sir, are you aware that your headlights are not on?
Me: Oh! My mistake! It's actually really well lit down here so I completely forgo-
Cop: Uh-huh. Where are you coming from, sir?
Me: It's underage night at the club, my friends (sitting next to me and in the back seat) and I just came from there.
Cop: So you haven't been drinking tonight then? (this statement is just dripping with scorn. This cop wants me to go DOWN.)
Me: Absolutely not.
Cop: Mhmmm and would you be willing to take a breathalyzer in order to confirm that?

I got so excited when he said this. I don't know why, I just did. He was being such an ass and I really just wanted to take that thing and blow a .00 in his face and drive away happy. My response requires illustration so you know exactly how I looked when I responded.

Me: 

OF COURSE I WOULDN'T!!

Well apparently the cop decided that usually people who ARE drunk aren't so excited to take a breathalyzer. He told me he wasn't going to test me and just took my license and registration. I was crestfallen. I had come so close! I wanted it so badly! But no, Mr. Ass-cop decided that if he couldn't make me miserable by breathalyzing me, he'd make me miserable by snatching it away. Jerk.

The final piece of this story was arguably the funniest. My friend sitting shotgun has a rather protective mother. Now we weren't aware of this, but apparently her mother stayed awake until two in the morning listening to the police scanner to see if our names came up. Well...mine did. She had a mini panic attack and called my friend about three times while the cop was talking to us to see if we were alright. We all had a good laugh at that one.

Stupid Gag Foods...Working Against Me.

There are some foods I love: ice cream, chicken alfredo, pizza, etc.

Then there are some foods that can make me throw up, like onions. They make me gag every time. It's some kind of Pavlovian conditioned response that I have. I don't know what it is, but at least I can anticipate it and avoid it.

Then there are some foods that fall in a crack between these two categories. I don't know when, and I don't know why, but these foods will sometimes make me gag out of nowhere.

Bananas are a prime example of this. I don't understand it, but they seem to conspire against me. I think, "Hey! I'll be healthy and just pass through the cafeteria on the way to class and pick up a banana! And the world responds to my attempt at health by having me nearly regurgitate my stomach onto the sidewalk.

I honestly have no idea what causes this, it's so random. Maybe it's those stupid stringy pieces that chill on the banana even after you've peeled it.

Seriously banana strings, what the hell is this?

Choose a damn side and stick with it.

Eggs also do this to me. I think I'm going to enjoy a nice fried egg for breakfast like civilized folk, but no. I'm just all like "Hey mom thanks for the eggs they're really goo-HYURKABLAGHHHH" 

It's traumatic!

 

Get this guy to wield a whip made from

a banana string and I'd be in tears.

Maybe I'm alone here, or it's just some quirk I have. I'm not sure, but it sucks. If you suffer from this crippling vulnerability to food, give me a shout out in the comments. We can form a club.

You're Gonna Do WHAT to Me Now?

I almost got raped one time.

Ok so that isn't entirely true, but it really draws your attention, doesn't it? In actuality I just kind got threatened to be raped in a really roundabout way. Let me explain.

I used to work at a pizza shop. Now my neighborhood is not exactly an upscale area, so we had the occasional druggie, drunkard, or just scary-as-shit customer come into our establishment every now and again. The thing was...this guy didn't look like any of these archetypes.

 Pictured: someone who fits the description "Scary-as-shit"

Our drinks at the time came in three sizes: small, medium, and large, because we were original in that way. To further complicate this drink situation, the cups that they came in were disposable. I know this is difficult to wrap your head around, or at least that's what this man led me to believe, so you may need to go back and read that description of the drinks again.

This fine fellow enters our establishment wondering if he could have a cup. I thought this was pretty much a non-issue, but my manager explained to me that we could not simply give a cup away due to inventory and price per cup and whatnot. It didn't seem like a big deal to me to give away one cup, but my manager wanted me to charge the man 40 cents for the cup, and I wasn't going to argue.

Well, this man could not wrap his brain around the idea that the cup was not free, leading to the following exchange taking place:

Me: I can give you a cup but I have to charge you 40 cents for it if that's ok.
Fine Fellow (hereafter abbreviated as FF): ...wha?
Me: I know, sorry, it's just that we don't keep the cups so we have to pay for them, and my manager wants me to charge you for the cup so that it doesn't throw inventory out of whack or something.
FF: ...THE F**K YOU TALKIN' ABOUT?
Me: Sorry, I have to.
FF: You know what? When I was in PRISON, people got RAPED for shit like this!!!

People get raped for such trivial things in prison.

Now I would like you to note that the word raped is in caps, bolded, italicized and underlined because I need you to know just how much he emphasized this word. He wanted me to know that unless he got his cup, the pants were coming off.

I didn't know what to do...so I kinda laughed at him. 

Fine Fellow did not care for that. His face turned a shade of purple normally reserved for eggplants and Barney. He became quite flustered, mostly incoherent, shouting on about prison time and all sorts of mean things. I didn't really know how to handle the situation. 

Thankfully, my boss did. He came out of the back wielding a metal pizza shovel yelling in Italian and chased the man out of his restaurant.

Just a normal day at my job...

This is Why I Love British Humor

Come on America! We hardly measure up to the seamless wit that Britain seems to portray all over the place! That and the fact that Hugh Laurie can speak English with an American accent better than most of America can just puts our country to shame!

Nah, but seriously, this clip had me in hysterics when I saw it. I'm just a stickler for clever fruit / technology puns I suppose.

The Mayhem Started Before I Even Had the Name

Screw you, Juliet. What's in a name? If you weren't lying to me I wouldn't have spent 45 minutes trying to figure out a name for this blog. Names are important! Would you read a blog with a name like "Stabbing Orphans?" No, you would not, because that would put you on some government lists that you wouldn't want to be on.

In essence, this is the process of naming a blog:

Yeah I made that myself for the purpose of this post, so you're welcome.

Honestly I don't know what I intend to do with this blog. I'm just one of about a billion other college students that want their voice to be heard on this internet. Meh, we'll see where it takes me. See you soon!