this is my dull life. this is my dull life on drugs. this is a haiku.

Saturday, January 29, 2005

Reconstructed post, plus some...

I have a conspiracy theory. Remember when your bike as a kid always had that little piece of plastic around the gears that kept your pant-leg from getting cut up or grease from getting on it? And then one day you went to get a new bicycle only to find that this simple little protector had been removed. I believe that if you looked into the financial doings of the bicycle empire (Yes, the bicycle empire), you would find that a rather large sum of money was transferred to them from one or more international pant corporations. I mean, why else would something so easy and cheap to produce be removed. There is definitely something going on here in an effort to get us to buy pants more often. The guards are still on the little-kid bikes, but that’s cause the international pant corporations know that kids grow out of pants really quick anyway. There is something going on here that is threatening the very fabric of… my pants… and I am not impressed.

Fuck you Levi Strauss.

So anyway, a couple days ago I was told by a janitor to stop using my scooter in the tunnels to get to class. Apparently, the wheels ruin the floors. When I asked him if he meant the concrete that was painted yellow, there was a slight pause (as he attempted to gauge whether I was giving him “lip”), and then he said “Yes”. Now I have to make a decision. I told myself that if I was asked not to use the scooter, then I wouldn’t… but I really want to!

So should I stop with the juvenile scooting -- Ok, I’ve just realized that saying scooting makes me sound like a big… wiener… so from now on, I’m going to refer to it as… razing. Man, that is so badass. Wicked. -- So should I stop with the juvenile razing (Man… I’m awesome.), since I’ve already been told once, or should I keep at it and stick it to the man in the process… “the man” being the janitor with the tenth grade education. Before making a recommendation, I think it is important to note that I actually have met a few people because they’ve recognized me as “the dude with the scooter in the tunnels”, and that’s kinda cool. I mean, I haven’t picked up any hot chicks as I had originally expected to, but I have faith. The hot chicks will realize what a guy with a scooter can do for them, and they shall flock in my direction. And that direction would be Burke House… Room 303… right side of the room as you enter. Come ooooooonnnnnnn HOT CHICKS!

PS -- In trying to figure out how to spell “wiener” on, I discovered that there is a Weiner, Arkansas (Pop. 655). There is a flower shop in Weiner. It is called the Weiner Flower Shop. If this is not funny, I don’t know what is. It’s 5 AM.

So last night at about 4, Coleman and I were just heading to bed at the same time, when I said, looking at the Vick’s VapoRub that I’d been using while sick, “I dare you to eat that on toast tomorrow”. He agreed, under the obvious condition that I had some, too. So there we had it, we were going to eat VapoRub on toast in the morning. There was no warning on the little tub about ingestion, so apparently it was all clear for go. So anyway, on a whim I checked out the Vick’s website (where I’m sure the only other visitor that day was actually looking for Mmmm… that’s good pepper jelly.), and found out that “in case of accidental ingestion, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center right away”. I’m sure that at some point, someone on this earth was wondering what the hell the point of a Vick’s website was, and to that person I say, “To save college students from poisoning themselves”. Now before you go passing judgement on Coleman and I, tell me this: What would Jesus do? I think I’ve made myself clear…