Sorry for the lack of updates recently; I've been incredibly busy with finals and work as of late.
Fortunately, it's my Winter Break now, and I've got plenty of time to kick around my apartment...in peace!
Everyone is gone, and the best news is that BEN IS GONE FOR GOOD!
Ben decided to study abroad for a semester in France, which means I'm finally free of him forever. Thank. Fucking. God.
Let's all hope my new apartment mate isn't another douchebag!
For now, I'm quite at peace. Enjoy.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
12/1/08 - Purell Liquid Hand Soap Stock is Going Up!
This entry really should've been written last night, but I was beyond exhausted and decided to save it in case nothing noteworthy occurred today. As you can see, nothing particularly noteworthy happened.
Last night I decided to cook a Kraft Easy Mac Cup to ease growing hunger pangs. If you're one of the few poor souls who has never enjoyed one of these delectable and convenient treats, a Kraft Easy Mac Cup is macaroni and cheese that comes in a small, microwave-safe bowl. It takes a grand total of 3 1/2 minutes to cook.
After starting the microwave, I noticed Guy wandering between his room and the bathroom he shares with Ben. Each time he entered the bathroom, I heard him turn on the sink. He was washing his hands.
In the incredibly short timespan it took to cook my snack, Guy had washed his hands a total of 3 times.
I decided to eat my food in the kitchen and keep track of further behavior. During the next few minutes, Guy had washed his hands 3 more times.
Now, I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty sure that's a total of 6 times within about a 10 minute stretch of time. That kid either has the rawest hands in the world, or the softest (depending on what soap he's using).
I think I'm beginning to understand why Guy doesn't believe in mental disorders; it's pretty obvious he's the victim of several, including OCD.
Oh well. Marc Summers of "Double Dare" supposedly was a germaphobe too. And he's got a show on the Food Network now!
Go Guy! You're in such good company!
Enjoy.
Last night I decided to cook a Kraft Easy Mac Cup to ease growing hunger pangs. If you're one of the few poor souls who has never enjoyed one of these delectable and convenient treats, a Kraft Easy Mac Cup is macaroni and cheese that comes in a small, microwave-safe bowl. It takes a grand total of 3 1/2 minutes to cook.
After starting the microwave, I noticed Guy wandering between his room and the bathroom he shares with Ben. Each time he entered the bathroom, I heard him turn on the sink. He was washing his hands.
In the incredibly short timespan it took to cook my snack, Guy had washed his hands a total of 3 times.
I decided to eat my food in the kitchen and keep track of further behavior. During the next few minutes, Guy had washed his hands 3 more times.
Now, I'm no mathematician, but I'm pretty sure that's a total of 6 times within about a 10 minute stretch of time. That kid either has the rawest hands in the world, or the softest (depending on what soap he's using).
I think I'm beginning to understand why Guy doesn't believe in mental disorders; it's pretty obvious he's the victim of several, including OCD.
Oh well. Marc Summers of "Double Dare" supposedly was a germaphobe too. And he's got a show on the Food Network now!
Go Guy! You're in such good company!
Enjoy.
12/1/08 - BROkeback Catapult
Once again, I need to apologize for my writing "hiatus" this past week. Being the Thanksgiving holiday, my college decided to give me quite a decent stretch of break, so I took the time to stay away from my apartment mates, which means I had to stay away from my apartment, which in turn contains my laptop.
Well, I'm back, and it only took two seconds for my brain to explode in sheer confusion/annoyance at the sight that met me upon entering the living/main room.
The scene I'm (unfortunately) used to being greeted by at this point in the semester is Bro-Love Kid's possessions strewn about the living/main room (which I've now dubbed "The Campgrounds" since Ben and Bro-Love's "no girls allowed" sleepovers are frequently held here).
Here's a recent picture of what The Campgrounds normally looks like:
CLICK TO ENLARGE!
.JPG)
And here's a picture of the wooden monstrosity I walked in on tonight:
.JPG)
I have no clue what it is. I remember leaving my apartment (accompanied by my girlfriend Morgan) one night last week to find Ben and a large group of his cronies all huddled around what looked like a filing cabinet and some chopped-up two-by-fours in the middle of the living/main room. Several of them were passing around a monkey wrench and taking turns bashing the cabinet, while the rest of the congregation cheered and hooted like the dumbasses they are. Obviously, they stopped what they were doing after realizing Morgan and I were watching their celebration of "manliness." We made our way across the room toward the exit, remaining silent, until one of Ben's lesser pets decided to yell "Byyyyye Brian!" to my backside. I retaliated by voicing the phrase "fucking moron" and Morgan and I made our way to the parking lot with the hopes of escaping the giant lake of stupid Ben and his ass-slapping, wrestle-happy friends insisted on swimming in.
Now that I've returned to my apartment, I can only wonder: What the hell is this thing? To be honest, I wouldn't be even half-surprised if I heard Ben bragging to his buddies about his new "beer-can-apult." Of course, in order for Ben to really accentuate his "awesomeness," right after he uttered something as moronic as "beer-can-apult," a full can of Labatt Blue Light would have to come rocketing through my wall, only to explode in a shower of cheap beer as it struck (and shattered) my new TV set.
Here's to that NOT coming true...and setting fire to Ben's room, using his new contraption as kindling, if it does.
Enjoy.
UPDATE: I just found out from my neighbor Nate that the gigantic, wooden device is a primitive, spring-powered can-crushing machine. That's right: the SOLE PURPOSE of the huge scrapheap/piece of shit sitting on the living/main room coffee table is to CRUSH EMPTY BEER CANS! MY PREDICTION WAS SO CLOSE!
Regardless, based on the size of the machine, the fact that one can simply use their foot to crush empty cans, and the sheer stupidity of crushing anything that can get you a 5-cent recycling deposit (per can) in New York State, the device's practical utility seems incredibly limited.
My guess is that Ben's Bro-Love Club simply wanted to put their engineering majors to use in their senior year of college, since after graduation most of them will most likely be working as garage mechanics back in their hometowns. For society's sake, I hope they're all unemployed and choking on stale bread in soup kitchens by then.
Well, I'm back, and it only took two seconds for my brain to explode in sheer confusion/annoyance at the sight that met me upon entering the living/main room.
The scene I'm (unfortunately) used to being greeted by at this point in the semester is Bro-Love Kid's possessions strewn about the living/main room (which I've now dubbed "The Campgrounds" since Ben and Bro-Love's "no girls allowed" sleepovers are frequently held here).
Here's a recent picture of what The Campgrounds normally looks like:
CLICK TO ENLARGE!
.JPG)
And here's a picture of the wooden monstrosity I walked in on tonight:
.JPG)
I have no clue what it is. I remember leaving my apartment (accompanied by my girlfriend Morgan) one night last week to find Ben and a large group of his cronies all huddled around what looked like a filing cabinet and some chopped-up two-by-fours in the middle of the living/main room. Several of them were passing around a monkey wrench and taking turns bashing the cabinet, while the rest of the congregation cheered and hooted like the dumbasses they are. Obviously, they stopped what they were doing after realizing Morgan and I were watching their celebration of "manliness." We made our way across the room toward the exit, remaining silent, until one of Ben's lesser pets decided to yell "Byyyyye Brian!" to my backside. I retaliated by voicing the phrase "fucking moron" and Morgan and I made our way to the parking lot with the hopes of escaping the giant lake of stupid Ben and his ass-slapping, wrestle-happy friends insisted on swimming in.
Now that I've returned to my apartment, I can only wonder: What the hell is this thing? To be honest, I wouldn't be even half-surprised if I heard Ben bragging to his buddies about his new "beer-can-apult." Of course, in order for Ben to really accentuate his "awesomeness," right after he uttered something as moronic as "beer-can-apult," a full can of Labatt Blue Light would have to come rocketing through my wall, only to explode in a shower of cheap beer as it struck (and shattered) my new TV set.
Here's to that NOT coming true...and setting fire to Ben's room, using his new contraption as kindling, if it does.
Enjoy.
UPDATE: I just found out from my neighbor Nate that the gigantic, wooden device is a primitive, spring-powered can-crushing machine. That's right: the SOLE PURPOSE of the huge scrapheap/piece of shit sitting on the living/main room coffee table is to CRUSH EMPTY BEER CANS! MY PREDICTION WAS SO CLOSE!
Regardless, based on the size of the machine, the fact that one can simply use their foot to crush empty cans, and the sheer stupidity of crushing anything that can get you a 5-cent recycling deposit (per can) in New York State, the device's practical utility seems incredibly limited.
My guess is that Ben's Bro-Love Club simply wanted to put their engineering majors to use in their senior year of college, since after graduation most of them will most likely be working as garage mechanics back in their hometowns. For society's sake, I hope they're all unemployed and choking on stale bread in soup kitchens by then.
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