Thursday, February 25, 2010

Updates of My Quiet LIfe

Most of them are probably so personal that they're boring, so if you know I'm going to bore you, scroll down until you see the fishes swimming in the sidebar. Amuse yourself by feeding them for 6-9 minutes.

-I just saw my sister's play How the Bard Won the West. It's referring to Shakespeare's influences in the United States West and don't get excited because it was written by the middle school drama teacher. It was a pretty cool play--I definitely admire seeing teenage actors that aren't exactly prodigies, but at the same time aren't afraid to make themselves look like fools on the stage. There were jocks on that stage, a cheerleader, some geeks, and only some really artsty types. That was pretty cools for me to see. My social epiphany almost made up for the painfully cruel irony that cowboy hicks performed Shakespeare. Their picture on the brochure was a Photo-shopped portrait of Shakespeare wearing a cowboy hat!

-Got a new watch today. Freaked out that I'm telling you this? I'm kind of reminding myself of Will Ferrel in Stranger than Fiction. If I start informing you of how many steps I took today or how many seconds I brushed my teeth in, somebody send me a hate comment. Anyways, new watch. My old watch was one day early for an entire year. This watch has the day of the week messed up. I think Chronos is trying to tell me something.

-This should have been first, but I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend? The girlfriend! I've never had one before, so I'm fumbling through this relationship like a 3rd grader who has a crush on her music teacher. Anyways, the girl is great. She's good buddies with some of the gentlemen on my basketball team so it fully works out.

-The unthinkable has just happened--more unthinkable then me doing more than stuttering in front of a girl. I've just been sucked into a semi soap opera. Ever heard of the Secret Life of the American Teenager? Who's horrified? I am! Soap operas never get into my head! But they're out to get me. They've been studying me and they know me inside and out. A kind of weird friend showed me snippets of the pilot, and I went home and made room for it during my Hulu splurges. I'm freaked out. But the people in it are teenagers. Not stereotypical Mexicans! Not monotone supermodels! Not even the old people that are put on TV soap operas for the sake of those poor retired folks who only want in life for Britney to stop dating Michael and get interested in David! Please! Just one date, Britney! One! But don't have any children yet. You have three grown children living in Michigan who you don't want to disappoint.

-Last one: my ceramics piece in art is going to be shown at the High Museum! Of course it's a scholastic exhibit, but it's still the High!

Notice the text positioned conveniently at the top of the right side bar. Also feel free to disregard it. Bye, everyone!

Monday, February 22, 2010

A Post Shorter than the Title, an Obvious Suggestion, and a Sick but Surprisingly Hilarious Song from an Even Sicker Film

Never get a migraine.

Read the note to the right.

Listen to this song:

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Ah, the Joys of Running

You see, that's the joke. Running isn't really joyful for me, so I said the opposite to encourage a feeling of sarcasm. I was being ironic, do you see? Want me to explain it further? Yes?

Track started this Wednesday. I was stuck somewhere between delighted that here was my opportunity to build up a little bulk--(and my little I do, unfortunately, really mean little)--and dreading the running aspect of track. You see, I've finally come to the conclusion that I like everything about track and cross country except for the running part. When you're not very fast and you run the two mile, that tends to happen.

So I like everything about track except for running. Would this be a good time for me to tell you that I'm good at everything in basketball except for shooting, and everything in soccer except for kicking?

When I run for more than a mile or so, I go into this period of hibernation where no part of me is alive except for the pain that comes with running. Especially considering I have asthsma--(ha! he is a nerd, isn't he?)--your breathing feels caged. Your lungs seem to be bound in rope and tied to each other. Your legs feel heavy. The jacket you're wearing makes all the difference. A windbreaker's weight mold with yours. A sweatshirt feels like you're carrying another tired runner on your shoulders. Your faces is flooded with heat and irritation. Pain is all over the place in running.

My mile time is 6:17. Happy?

And for all of those lunatic outsiders who feel that running cross country or track is gay, what gives you this impression? Simply because the boys sometimes wear tights, we did yoga twice last year, and the boys make out in the lockerroom? This assumption is absurd!

So congrats to all of those who are running marathons and those who jog on will every morning at 6 right before their cup of coffee and every evening at 8 right after Lost. But I was not made for running, and that's that.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Loud noises! Loud noises!

The deceitful illusion that is gripping the mind of every foolish teenager across the world in overwhelming numbers is that parties were created in order for the victim to "have fun." The government is lying to you! Parties are not fun! Don't go! Save yourself!!!

I would say that parties are out to get me. Fortunately, they're not. Parties avoid me. Partying and me--we've come to an agreement.

If you have visited the poll on the right and bubbled in the answer with your deceitful pointer that you are a nerd, but on the other hand--you like parties, you've just earned a one-way ticket out of this blog. (That was a joke, you know. Please don't go. I'd miss you so much. Don't go!!! I need you!!!)


1) How do I get through college if I hate parties?

2) How do I get through life if I hate parties?

3) Parties in general

Why don't I like them? Too loud. Too much dancing. Too many happy people. I have no idea what to do. You either have to dance, get high, or make out--none of which are likely options for me. My head goes into overload. Hence the title. If I'm at a social event where I don't want to be for more than five minutes, I tend to shout "Loud noises! Loud noises!" If I'm in a bad mood after that, I might just pull a paper bag over my head, curl up into a ball, and rock back and forth.

Those who party and those who don't were made at opposite ends of the spectrum of life. On one side: those who party. On the other side: those who don't. On the first side: those magazine-cover couples who giggle and shout at Starbucks over two cups of coffee. On the second side: the couples who look off into the distance over coffee, silent except for sniffles and sighs. On the first side: those who go to AMC. On the second side: those who use Netflix. On the first side: those who make it onto TV. On the second side: those who watch the first people on TV and cry while eating chocolate ice cream in their underwear.

But you know what? I kind of like being on the second side. There's writing, art, and reading. There's silence. There are TV sitcoms. No drugs or drinking. And my favorite: the jocks and Barbies don't like it! They don't like it --> I do.

I LOVE being pathetic!

Friday, February 12, 2010

Five SNL Videos and an Awkward Situation

Who knew that I, the most obsessive and anti-social Blogger around, could be so inconsistent with posting? Three days!!! That's like a month in nerd years. Each day for a nerd is like a fortnight. We have these separate, detached lives we mantain like a pet mouse--a life with no parties and hopefully very few interruptions from human beings.

Since I got my new laptop, I had a Hulu splurge and watched dozens of SNL shorts. I couldn't resist sharing at least five of them with you.

High School Musical 4:

Booty Call:

The French Chef:

Gilly-Science Fair:

Scott Brown:

The fourth one isn't very funny. It's Gilly saying "sorry" that puts me in hysterics. I couldn't stop laughing. I showed it to my brother and friend, though, and they stared at me like any other sane person might stare at me considering I was laughing at such an unfunny SNL skit. The other four are just SNL for you. You like it, hate it, or like it only when it makes fun of Obama.

About the awkward situation...I can't believe this is happening, but I can't even remember what it was. Just imagine you're in a situation--apparently an awkward one. Then...after you're about halfway through your hypothetical awkward situation...pretend I said something funny and tell me how hilarious I was.

It's snowing here. I just finished a one hour trek outside, and I can hardly believe that snow could be so deep in Atlanta! It's insane! It's pretty cold too. My brother had to dress up in big fishing boots and my dad's huge vest. I swear, give him a rifle and a dozens ducks to shoot, and he'd look just like a hunter. Ironic, considering he's veagan.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to pretend I said a bunch of funny stuff!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

More Private School Warning Signs:

Private School Warning Sign #213
The teachers are either young and vibrant enough to have just been plucked out of high school, or really, really old. Teachers tell you about how they taught your mother and father and older brother and Great Aunt and grandmother. The current history teacher taught the current math teacher. They were born in this school. They'll die in this school. (Favorite line from The Rocker, "I'm prepared to work here until I die.")

Private School Warning Sign #51
Six out of eleven art/drama teachers are Republicans.

Private School Warning Sign #509
The kids crowd the doors before they unlock, forming enourmas mobs only comparable to that of Macy's on the morning of Black Friday. Apparently all the students would like to learn as fast as possible and avoid the leisure of before-school social hour.

Friday, February 5, 2010

The Superbowl and American Football: Duhn, Sit, Hi-IKE

So what do you know? It's here! Hurray! Fetch the beer! Someone get some peanuts! Lock your wife in a closet! THE SUPERBOWL IS HERE!!!!!!!!

Let me share with you a little that everyone knows by talking to me about sports for more than seven seconds:

I don't keep up with sports.

There, I said it. Don't judge me. Ever since I was hit in the forehead with a football and lost all my memory and mental records of sport teams and famous football players. Banter involving college rivalry is to me like trying to interpret the chat of the French people who always seem to sit next to you at the Starbucks in Manhattan. All the names of the godly sports heroes in American history float in one ear and out the other. Leagues, teams, names, wins, losses, stadiums, etc. mean about as much to me as formulas in science class. And about a week before the Super Bowl, there's that defining moment where at least one person asks me, "Who are you rooting for in the Super Bowl?" I never know WHO'S going to be in the Super Bowl.

About a week ago, a guy asks me, "So who do you want to win the Super Bowl." I shrug and respond, "...the underdog." He gives me a funny looks and shoots back, "Who do you think is this underdog?" I spit out the first name that comes to mind: "The Bears." He looks at me like I'm insane. "The Bears aren't in the Super Bowl!!!" I say, " why they're the underdog."

So now you know who you're dealing with.

And I might also mention with only a bit of shame that the commercials are my favorite part. I drift off during most of the game. Don't worry--my parents wake me up for the commercials.

AMURICA'S NUMBA ONE!!! Yeah, football!


If you're like me and either still in school, or a human, or both, then you hear people swear all the time. And not I-swear-upon-my-mother's-grave swears. Cussing. Profanity. The art of the foul-mouthed.

What is even up with curse words? Half of them don't mean anything! Then why do we care so much when people use them? I dunno. Because we do. I guess the act of uttering a word that has been deemed unspeakable is an offense in itself.

I'll take a break from blabbering like a youth group leader and beeline towards the point. I don't mind cursing terribly when it's used in moderation. That definitely sounded weird. "It's okay to curse if you don't curse too much." But if you just shout out a four-letter word with the occasional stubbed toe or broken arm, you're fine. I can't say otherwise, or I'd be a hypocrit. In fact, I'm okay with a little profanity hear or there for the sake of HUMOR. What the hell? So for a preacher's son planning to run on about his annoyance with swearing, I'm no saint.

Two extremes, both of which I'm extremely annoyed by:

1) This category includes Catholic school teachers, mothers, sweet/old-fashioned grandmothers, nuns, Ralphie's mom, etc. You utter a word that doesn't fall under their "approved" vocabulary list, they go crazy. They panic at the sight or sound of a four-letter word. Too many nasty words and you've earned a ticket to hell. You deserve to be hanged, or at least put in prison. "What're you in for?" "Potty mouth. You?"

2) This one includes the regulars at bars, just 'bout everyone under the age of 22, Family Guy before the Reformation, and the guy from Green Day. (Have you ever seen the music video for Jesus of Suburbia? No offense to fans, but the beginning is like a bad joke. I think their constant use of the f-word is like their confession that they don't speak English fluently.) This category drives me out of my mind more than the first category. These guys curse like smokers smoke, drunks drink, and Disney actresses get pregnant. In others words, they are very consistent with their bad language.

Now here's a bigger problem--curse words that DO mean something and other words which have meanings than are a thousand times as offensive as some curse words. I'm ready to punch every guy out who calls a girl at school slut, whore, etc. just for the sake of it. And I can't stand all the idiots who ever use the n-word to address blacks. People like that hold us back from progress. It's why racism is still an issue for racing for attention, right behind world peace, poverty, and war. It belongs in the past, man. Don't be a hater, son. Don't be a hater.

There has never been a falser phrase than "sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me." Every day I hear people toss around words like "fat," "gay," and "retard." Yeah, I'm being uptight. Yeah, maybe your math teacher is okay with saying words like "retard" while this nerdy teenager is as fussy as your grandmother. But do you realize that when you're saying retard, you're referencing people with mental disabilities? That is not okay.

Ask yourself this question: why do you curse? And answer it truly, because I very highly doubt that God is sitting up in heaven with a record book of who likes cursing and who doesn't. Do you actually like cursing? Are you addicted, or are you reluctant? Or do you curse at all? If you curse a lot because your friends want you to curse, I'm balancing pity for you and urge to strangle you.

If you have issues with cursing, do me a favor and cut it down. Teenage years would be less of a nightmare if I didn't hear exclamations of @$#% and @#$U and @#$% and @#%@#% and @## all the time. I mean, my teenage years would still be a horrifying nightmare, but it might ease the pain a tiny bit.

Yeah, I know this post has been boring and really rather awful, but if you struggled through it, you do get a prize.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Christopher's Ten Commandments--Ones Not Meant in a Sacreligious Way, So Don't Sue Me

1. Watch Psych religiously.
2. Watch Chuck just enough to know what's going on.
3. Watch Modern Family whenever possible.
4. Watch The Office unless you've lost your remote.
5. Watch 30 Rock if bedtime's not before 10!
6. Order old re-runs of Pushing Daisies on Netflix or something
7. Cry when you finish both seasons of Pushing Daisies, realizing too late that the show was canceled earlier. Don't be afraid to tell me that you cried.
8. Slap Christopher on the back head, considering he forgot to tell you to watch the final several seasons of Monk also on Netflix. (Doesn't air anymore)
9. During the commercials of Psych, The Office, and others, don't be sucked into addiction with White Collar, especially if you only like it because of its "SEX APPEAL"
10. Read the extended commandments below to find out WHICH SHOW FITS YOU! (Call this number now.)


(Taps foot...twiddles thumbs...)

Finished reading yet?

Okay, in best attempts to keep it short, watch Psych if you sort of like mystery/police shows and movies, but have comedy as a priority. Watch Chuck if you can empathize with nerds, like some action along with quirky humor, and if you love to see the nerd get the beautiful woman. Watch Modern Family if you like kind of dry humor along with silly jokes, if you love shows with distinct characters, and as an accessory--you support gay marriage. (Change! Yes we can!) Watch The Office if you like dry/cynical humor, deadpan characters, likable characters, and don't get too frustrated with Michael when he's a jerk.....(stares into distance)...Moving on! Watch 30 Rock if you--well, if you like funny shows!!! Now Pushing Daisies is a special case. You either like it or you hate it. If you like quirky humor, verbal humor, weird characters, even weirder plots, and are willing to keep up with the fast pace and ever-changing plot, this might be the show for you.

There will be a quiz on this tomorrow.