Saturday, May 29, 2010


Guys, The Nerd Archives has been a wasteland for the past couple of weeks. Where are you?

First thing I have to tell you: last night I was feeling a little bored and decided to scare my Mom. She was in her room reading and I walked in all shame-faced. I said,

"Mom, I have a confession to make."

"What is it, Christopher?"

"I saw some beer in the fridge and...and...I took a sip."

I didn't expect her to buy it, but she did. She looked at me seriously for a moment and then said,

"Well, at least it was just a sip."

She believed me. I don't get no respect. Onto the topic of multi-taskers.

I am like a woman in three ways. The first is that I use emoticons when I'm online. The second is that I wear dresses to social events. But the third is that I want people to listen to me.

We live in a social society. That's a good thing. Although they will all bring the downfall of the human race, Facebook, Twitter, texting, MySpace, formspring, Skype, etc. all have good intentions. They were created in order for people to connect. Well, economically they were created to make a profit, but what's the difference, really?

My issue is that society has gotten so hyped up by all of these programs that they've lost track of the details. I'm not just referring to basic social skills and hygiene, which are also at stake here. I'm referring to the little things in life: smelling flowers, listening to the rain, reading a nice book...

Oh no! Now I'm sounding like a middle-aged mother on her ideal vacation day. Add "take a nap" onto that list and I would be doomed.

But here's one thing we've all lost track of: living in the moment. Focusing on what you're doing right now.

We've become multi-taskers. And not just on the highway where we're safe--everywhere.

One time I tried gmail's "video chat" with a friend. (That was pretty revolutionary to me.) We started talking just like we would in real life...until one point when I launch into one of my little rants. It was a pretty serious one too--I think it might have been about politics or something of the sort. But I when I glance back at him, I see this kind of dazed look on his face. What's more, he giggles at random intervals during my tiny speech.

Unfortunately, he wasn't acting this way because he was hypnotized by the eloquence of my little ramble. It was because, I later found out, he was watching a re-run of 30 Rock on Hulu.

Hey, at least it was 30 Rock instead of something like White Collar or Burn Notice.

But is that normal? Do people usually do that? I honestly don't know. I'm not even joking.

Samantha used to be a huge multi-tasker. When I talked to her on the phone, she'd say,

"One second, I need to go do some math homework."

"Oh, okay. I'll call you later."

"No, no. It's fine."

I'd be a little surprised, but I'd go on talking myself silly, with her unusually silent in the background--occasionally grunting in agreement or something. Eventually it would be like,

"Christopher, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure. Anything."

"How would you, personally, multiply the following like radicals?"

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly like that, but I'm sure you get my point, right?

In fact, my comedic idol Jerry Seinfeld has a little something to say about the subject:

Jerry Seinfeld on the iPhone and Blackberry. (I built a shrine to Seinfeld, by the way. He's just so...perfect. He's a joke machine, rather like a sock machine in which you feed yarn and mittens come out--except with jokes.)

See, he says it as a joke, but it's a very valid point. Rudeness has been totally re-defined. Our standards have been lowered drastically. Now the rules of polite society are:

  • Try your best to wear clothes when talking to other human beings.

  • Please refrain from threatening to kill your friends or loved ones.

  • It is preferable that you do not scream obscene words at your peers, unless you smile charmingly afterwards.

  • Make sure not to be racist...without a friendly grin on your face.

No, I'm not a fan of multi-tasking.

And then there's the car. Texting while driving? That's for wimpy teenage girls with no sense of fun. How about...

Texting, driving, listening to your iPod, listening to the radio, smoking, munching on leftovers from driving through Burger King, honking your horn whenever a bumper sticker tells you to, flipping off people who honk their horn at you, laughing at hitchhikers, shaving, chewing gum, showering, taking pictures of yourself with your cell phone, singing drunkenly, talking to your girlfriend on speaker phone, bathing, sleeping, dreaming, dancing, masturbating, jogging, and


Yeah, I take it back--don't try it.

Texting while driving. Texing while talking. Texting while performing brain surgery was the one that really hurt me most.

I have a challenge for you all: Rub your tummy and pat your head at the same time. Now switch.

After you finish that challenge, I have a more relevant challenge for all of you: try to live in the moment more. Try doing dishes without listening to your iPod. Try going on a walk without talking on your cell phone. Try making a phone call and just staring at the floor instead of at a screen. Try reading a book without the TV on. Try doing your homework without your laptop open. Try talking to your family without whipping out your cell phone at all.

Have a wonderful day.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

And, Alas, Summer is Here


Exams ended today. I actually like exam week, because it consists of half-days and I prefer taking tests over listening to lecture. But the last time I tried to tell a kid that I like exam week, he punched me in the stomach and called me a "pansy." It didn't help when I recited Bible verses at him either.

My science exam was in the French room and my calculator broke two minutes before the exam. I rose my hand and said,

"My calculator just broke."

She said, "I'm a French teacher, what do you expect me to do?"

Um, say "I spit on you" in a funny accent and then give me a new calculator?

It all ended well, though. A friend helped me cheat. Whenever the answer was A, he blinked once. For B, he blinked twice. C, he blinked three times. D, he blinked four times. About halfway through, though, he totally forgot about it and went back to blinking normally. I ended up writing down A for the next sixty quesitons.

Actually, I borrowed my science teacher's calculator. But, we're being honest here, don't you like the first story better?

Afterward, we went off campus to go to the Break Pad, a hamburger place about two blocks away. We reviewed exam questions like the average nerds would, recited jokes from sitcoms only we watched, and talked about outrageously random things. 'Twas fun.

If people can still say this without sounding like lonely, old creeps who sit on benches and imagine all of the passerby naked; then one of things I like most about going to restaurants is the people-watching.

There is consistently the same type of people there no matter where you go. There is always a bunch of teenage guys laughing at something that is most probably not funny. There are always huge families with like seven obnoxious sons. There are always lonely businessmen who wear sunglasses so nobody notices that they're staring at everyone longingly with sad puppy eyes. There are always younger couples with babies. The baby will be crying and crying and crying, but they just stare sullenly around the restaurant like they're trying to figure out where the crying noises are coming from.

And there are always people having totally silent dates. I mean, who can blame them? How do you keep the conversations going?

The first date: you have a whole world of things to talk about. You ask quesitons like "What are dreams in life?" "What do you do for a living?" "What are your hobbies?"

The second date: "What's your dream car?" "Tell me about your family." "Play any instruments?"

The third date: "What's your favorite color?" "Do you like dogs or cats more?" "What's your favorite classic American novel?"

The fourth date: "Do you use florescent or incondescent light bulbs?" "What's your most embarrassing moment?" "What's your favorite brand of frozen dinners?"

The fifth date: "There's something I haven't been telling you...I'm married."

Ah, young love when there isn't sex involved...

It has been an interesting week, though. On Wednesday I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. I answered,

"Hello, Kennedy's."

"Kennedy's? Is that a residence or a business? I've been getting repeated calls from this number."

I wanted to say, "Yes, sir, we've been expecting you. The government has been looking through your files and we're quite impressed. How would you like to work for the FBI?"

Instead, I settled for, "It's a residence. Sorry, we must have been calling the wrong number."

And thank goodness I did that, because I later found out that it was one of my neighbors whose son we carpool with to school.

While we're on the subject of controversial comedians with considerably long black hair, let me tell you about Emo Philips. Rather, how about I show him to you:

Emo Philips

Make sure you watch the whole thing. After that one ended, watch Part 2. After that, Part 3. I'm not sure what follows that, but just follow your heart.

He also won the best religion joke of the year according to some sort of organization or another for this one:

I was in San Fransisco once, walking along the Golden Gate Bridge, and I saw this guy on the bridge about to jump. So I thought I'd try to stall and detain him, long enough for me to put the film in. I said, "Don't jump!" and he turns... You've heard of the elephant man. He was kind of like that, he had a, well, you could say he had the head of a horse. And my heart went out to him. I said, "Why the long face?"
He said, "'Cause all my life people have called me mean names like horses-head or Flicka or chess-piece or Trigger..."
I said, "Well, don't worry about it, Ed. It can't be that bad."
He said, "My girlfriend's suing me!"
I said, "For palomino?"
He said, "Why was I put on this Earth?"
I said, "My friend, anywhere else you wouldn't stand a chance."
He said, "Nobody loves me."
I said, "God loves you, you silly ninny."
He said, "How do you know there's a God?"
I said, "Of course there's a God. Do you think that billions of years ago a bunch of molecules floating around at random could someday have had the sense of humor to make you look like that?"
He said, "I do believe in God."
I said, "Are you a Christian or a Jew?"
He said, "A Christian."
I said, "Me too. Protestant or Catholic?"
He said, "Protestant."
I said, "Me too! What franchise?"
He says, "Baptist."
I said, "Me too! Northern Baptist or Southern Baptist?"
He says, "Northern Baptist."
I said, "Me too! Northern Conservative Baptist or Northern Liberal Baptist?"
He says, "Northern Conservative Baptist."
I say, "Me too! Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist or Northern Conservative Reform Baptist?"
He says, "Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist."
I say, "Me too! Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region or Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Eastern Region?"
He says, "Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region."
I say, "Me too! Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1879 or Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912?"
He says, "Northern Conservative Fundamentalist Baptist Great Lakes Region Council of 1912."
I said, "Die, heretic!" And I pushed him over!

He's a genius. With his hair, he looks like a combination of Kathy Bates in Misery and Pee Wee Herman.

Happy Summer, everyone!

My Least Favorite Time of the Year

It's coming upon us like the plague came upon the Hebrews in Egypt. I feel this impending dread and doom, and once again I'm starting to wonder,

"Can I make it through the summer this year?"

Sure, no more school and no more going to Church on Christmas and Easter. Sure, summer is the time where first kisses and unplanned pregnancies happen. Much magic occurs in summer.

But you know what they don't tell you about in High School Music 2 and National Lampoon's Vacation is about all of the TERRIBLE AND DEADLY HORRORS THAT HAPPEN IN THE SUMMER!

Bumblebees as big as small rocks! A scorching sun that would give nerds horrible sunburn if they weren't all inside playing Call of Duty. Snakes that may be more afraid of you than you are of them, but still make scary hissing noises and stare at you funny. Relatives who you've avoided seeing all summer but manage to keep coming back at you like like the twenty two year-old who should be going to college but instead is hanging around in his parents' basement, insisting that playing lead guitar in a garage band counts as employment. Campouts! Crowded swimming pools! Summer jobs!


I have had three encounters with summer camp in all of my life. All three mentally scarred me. Some celebrities write autobiographies about how their relatives molested them, or their fathers beat them, or how they got mixed up in drugs in high school. Not me. I'm going to write about how horrible summer camp is, and how everyone is brainwashed to think it's fun when it's really terrible.

Here's the thing, you would think Christian summer camps would be better than normal summer camps, right? A bunch of gentle little angels that sport Bibles in their backpacks at all hours of the day, tell scary stories about their dangerous encounters with non-Christians, and write letters home every Tuesday? Not so. I was scared before I went to summer camp the first year, and my Mom said ,

"They won't be mean. They're Episcopalians!"

Since then, the word "Episcopalians" to me has meant "noisy demon children experimenting with homosexuality after dark." The truth is, there is no difference between Christian summer camp and secular summer camp except that everyone is white at Christian summer camp.

Fun games. Laughing children. Singing Christian camp songs. Swimming pools. Happy people. It just sounds like hell, doesn't it? Who would actually pay to go there?!? I don't know. I'll stop talking about summer camp, though. Whenever I'm about to start talking about the evils of summer camp with friends, the only response I get is, "Ah, yes. I remember summer camp. That was fun."

Usually by the time they get to the word "fun," I'm running away with my hands over my ears screaming bloody murder. The concept of fun to me is like a crucifix to a vampire. It's the only thing that can end me.

If you really want me to be truthful, I love summer. I've just been saying these things because I wanted you guys to think I was cool. I just needed a friend.

But, very honestly, there are some things about summer I don't like. For instance, every summer my family meets in Texas in a family reunion. We stay in a bunch of cabins by a river for a week or so, and unfortunately there are other families there as well. One consists of mostly adults and toddlers. Another has grandparents, parents, and college girls, (yeah--now I have a two-year-old son in Child Services after the 2007 retreat.) The last family besides ours is a small one with a bunch of, basically, hicks from a tiny town around Austin. They're a nice group, but one of them is a seventeen-year-old emo-wannabe. He wears black jeans and t-shirts every day. Piercings. Long black hair, which he admits to using curlers on when necessary.

He's a country goth, which is nearly an oxymoron. He listens to screamo, but also pronounces "nice" as a two-syllable word. He texts all the time, but also likes feeding the goats and horses by the river. He tells me about when he cuts himself, has sex, and gets in trouble at school, yet his Texan banter is just as painfully corny as any grandparent around.

Bad memories.

Anyway, I better wrap this up. I think you all get the point.

Have a good summer!

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Sister and Brother Bear

I had a Berenstain Bears thing going on. Did you honestly expect me to just drop it all of a sudden like a man without hands might drop an expensive vase? No! I promised to tell you all about my family, and I will live up to that promise.

But first of all--the poll! "What's your favorite type of nerd?" was the question. Options included:

1) the straight-A students who don't talk to anyone except themselves
2) the Anime fanatics
3) the Trekkies
4) the George McFly type nerds
5) the artistic nerds
6) the video game junkies
7) other

You can check out the results on the closed poll to the right, but I'll have you know in case you're too sleepy to slide your eyes six inches to the right that "the artistic nerds" won with seven votes. I'm not surprised, but I am very glad, because seven is a magic number, after all.

I'm also happy with the outcome of the poll because the truth is, I'm an artistic nerd myself. There. I've come out of the closet. I'm an artistic nerd! I said it! I'm not afraid of your judgements.

Now, how about I tell you about those "triplet siblings" of mine?


Having a twin is like sharing a life with someone. I'm barely exaggerating. Have you ever wondered what it must be like to be a twin? Fred and George from Harry Potter probably came to mind. (I shudder to think that any of your minds might have flashed to Dillon and Cole Sprouse. If you did think of them, don't tell me.) You probably think it's tons of fun to be a twin. You might even ENVY twins.

I would say "be careful what you wish for, because it might end up happening," but I don't think that's a huge danger in this situation. But it sounds like a bad Disney movie, doesn't it? Some everyday preteen is frustrated with his life and wants to be a twin. Then some vague magician character drops in and makes him a twin somehow or another. By the end of the movie, he decides that he wants his old life back and he learns all his lessons. You love the movie as a kid, and then five years later the actor is busted for steroids and gets Miley Cyrus pregnant. That's the way Disney works.

Erase all preconceptions you've ever had of being a twin. Yes, there are pros. Help with homework. I have similar humor as him. Yeah, it ends there. Cons? Need I name them all?

Even our closest friends and family members get our names mixed up. We're not seen as individuals. We're seen as twins. You never hear someone say "Oh, I know Christopher! He's nice." You hear "Oh, I know the blond twins! They're nice." We rarely get the opportunity to go places by ourselves. When I go to a friend's house, guess who was invited with me? Have you guessed yet? No? The answer is: my twin.

We're different people, but no one is willing to recognize that. That's my issue. Help me, Dr. Phil. Help me.

Onto the actual subject of my brother: he's an okay fellow. I'll admit--he is a lot like me. On the other hand, there are many differences between us. Main one being: he's a hippie. Actually, he's both a hippie and anti-technology. He's a vegetarian. He doesn't have a computer, a phone, e-mail, any accounts online, or an iPod. He listens primarily to jazz and country.

Oh God, I'm rambling. Sorry, guys. Onto the female member of our adorable trio.


To the left is a photo of my sister. Some notable things about her: her favorite things to wear are her pink overalls, purple backpack, and pink ribbon, (from Target.) She is a bear, but we're okay with that, you know?

I don't think there are triplets in the world more different than me and my sister. Except maybe the hypothetical ones in the workbooks in Spanish class.

"Pedro y su hermano son gemelos, pero tienen muchas caracteristicas diferentes. Las escribe en el espacio de abajo."

I, personally, am an introvert. I'm also a nerd. I have a dry sense of humor. I have hair so blond that's it almost white. I'm tall. I'm usually rather quiet. My sister, usually referred to as Sister Bear, is an extrovert. She's pretty popular. Her sense of humor is the furthest thing in the world from dry. She's blond, but her hair is a dark blond, (if that's not an oxymoron.) She's very short. And very, very loud.

Are you getting the point?

Even though I go to private school, my school is pretty big. Nearly anyone who knows me knows that I'm a twin. But barely anyone knows that I'm the brother of my sister. And...she's guarding that secret with her life. But when someone does find out, they are stunned to say the least. It was as surprising to them as the revelation that Luke is Leia's brother, (which, I might add, probably made things really awkward between them after that passionate kiss in the fifth movie.)

And I'm suspicious of what my sister tells her friends about me, because they talk to my brother and me like we have mental illnesses. I'm not even joking. On second thought, everyone talks to me like that, but you get my point.

The life of a triplet is a bleak one indeed. Most disturbing experience of my life? The Triplet Convention of 2005 in D.C. So many dependent triplets doomed to spend the rest of their lives in the same house. That's why I hyperventilate and then run away when someone suggests that I start up a business with my brother after college.

But the most annoying thing about being a triplet? When people tell me how much I'm like my brother, I always say "We're not the same people. We're not clones or anything!" But then I remember that, scientifically, we are.

Thanks for listenin'. I'll talk to you another time.

Friday, May 21, 2010

My Kin

Yesterday I was struck with a violent realization: I haven't told the readers of The Nerd Archives anything about my family yet! Well, that simply isn't acceptable.

You know how special my family is to me? I live in their house. I eat similar food, but not exactly the same. I share their cats and TVs, and I sit on some of the same furniture. I go on road trips with most of them, but sometimes one person doesn't go. I share some memories with them, and other memories I keep to myself. We don't read a lot of the same books, but we all have the same last name.
I could make that into a poem.

Well, I better open up to you about my kin sooner or later. Why not now?


My dad is old. I'll just go out and say it. He's in his late 70s. He doesn't know his own name, and he's in a nursing home for American citizens who are too old to be allowed.

Okay, fine. I'm messing with you. But I will say this: he's older than the average dad of a teenager. But you know what? I think that's a good thing. It means he's wiser than he would be otherwise, calmer, smarter, and considerably richer.

I have never regretted the fact that my dad is at an advanced age. I rejoice in it!

My father is the headmaster of my old elementary school. That used to have weight, because it meant that other elementary schoolers gave me a certain amount of respect that I didn't deserve. It doesn't anymore, though. How could it? If some kids were about to beat me up, would I just say, "Stop! My Dad is the headmaster of a private elementary school!" "Okay, man. We don't want any trouble."

He's a good headmaster, if I can say so myself. He's also very artistic, a wonderful writer, and very funny.
One moderately important side note: He doesn't have any legs.


Yeah, the Episcopal Priest. That's the one. It's not at all like what you might think it would be to have a priest as a parent--an Episcopal priest, at least. When a woman is a priest like my Mom, you can hardly tell the difference. She's in book club. She used to be a soccer mom. She still does the dishes. There's very little strangeness because of it.
She actually started out as a pharmacist, which I've always thought was weird. Priests nowadays seem to come from unexpected places. A priest at a Methodist church in Atlanta used to be a comedian. Comedians, pharmacists, lawyers, prison guards, television show hosts, bounty hunters, assassins, etc. You get the point.
She's very friendly. Almost too friendly. That's about it.
And...................I've already managed to make this post rather long. Check back in a day or two for a post about my
Thanks for reading.

Monday, May 17, 2010

A Grade School Opera and My Intimate Relations With a Married Woman

A grade school opera? In the words of my socially awkward Indian-American friend, "That's, um, like, an oxymoron or something."

It is almost um like an oxymoron or something, as a matter of fact. Opera is a sector of drama designated for 300 pound men with little beards and, well, 300 pound women with little beards.

But, in any case, last Thursday I attended the opera HMS Pinafore, presented by the sixth grader's of my old elementary school.
Remember my prior references to that school? Wonderful school. But also the one where we all held hands and sang Kum Ba Yah in our final year, but then when we all left to go to different schools, half of the grade went on to become total haters. In any case, it's a wonderful school. I was delighted to go back.

An hour before the actual performance, there was a pizza party for alums. That was fun, although everyone kind of wanted to hug everyone. I was assaulted by hugs as though I were attending the Peace at a black Gospel Church. Why do girls even want to hug unattractive nerds?

I remember I was standing next to this one kind of quiet fellow who I never knew very well. I felt like I should say something to him, so I said

"Hey, I saw your school's tent flip over at that track meet."
He responds, "Yeah, I know that kid who does the flips. He's pretty crazy, right?"

I'm so amused, I just nod and say, "Yeah, he's pretty epic."

Not everyone is blessed with good hearing.

Anyway, the entire event was fun, but the performance was really surprisingly good for a sixth grade play. Arguably, it was better than my grade's play this year. Like I said, they performed HMS Pinafore. The music was dangerously catchy. The set was impressive (and expensive). The choreography was pretty cute. It was all very well, although I couldn't quite keep up with the plot because 1) it was very confusing and 2) one of my friends kept touching my leg and leaning on me.

It's better if you don't ask.
Now let me abruptly interrupt my story with my


My art teacher was giving my Advanced Art class a pep talk about how hard it is to be an artist in general, but also how hard we have to work to keep up with our teachers. He phrased it,
"You sometimes have to work 24/7. You need to be ready to work after hours. You need to be ready to work with me past closing time. You need to be ready to sleep with me. Whoops--I'm sorry. I made that sound inappropriate."

It was hilarious, but actually I was slightly worried for him. He's slightly eccentric, (which is one of the reasons he's my favorite teacher, by the way,) but his weirdness/genius isn't interpreted properly by teenagers. Because the general population doesn't deal well with those who are different--especially teenagers--he's been labelled with the position of the faculty pedophile. So this comment kind of put him on the line with students.

My favorite teachers tend to be the ones that kid like the least. This is a big example. I won't bother you with a ramble about my art teacher today, but I think he's brilliant. The guy looks like a cross between Tim Burton and Gene Wilder.

I think he's great. I may be all alone on that team.
I'll talk to all later.
Keep posted!

Saturday, May 15, 2010

My Kryptonite: The Six-Legged

We all have fatal flaws. Harry Potter's was his total selflessness. Superman's was Kryptonite. James Bond's was his tendency to sleep with every beautiful woman he met. Achilles' fatal flaw was a tendon on the lower half of his leg. (Whoever dreamed up that myth was totally running out of ideas for interesting stories.)

I actually have multiple fatal flaws, like social awkwardness and bad looks, and innumerable phobias. Topping my list of phobias are:

  • Award-winning Japanese horror films
  • Clowns
  • Mojo-Jojo from the Powerpuff Girls
  • Pretty girls
  • Happy people

But I'd have to say there is one of my phobias that totally dominates over all the rest. And that would have to be:


Don't you dare laugh. Don't giggle, snort, chuckle, chortle, snicker, snore, or sneeze. If there's anything you should be doing right now, that would be nodding in solemn agreement.

In the beginning, God made the world, and it was good. And there was much rejoicing. All the creatures of the world lived in perfect harmony. Then God made dinosaurs. Then God made space aliens. They both died out after a while because of meteor impacts and failing economies.

But he had something twice as horrid to replace them. Something three times as horrid. Something almost--just almost--four times as horrid to replace dinosaurs and space aliens.

He made bugs.

I am more afraid of some bugs than I am of anything else.

Even death.

Fine--maybe not death. Unless it's a death because of bugs. Double threat.

I don't know why I hate bugs so much. You'd think I would have come to terms with them considering they make up someting like three fifths of the animal population on the planet. But I just haven't. Maybe it's because of a sheltered environment. Does it really matter? No! What matters is that all bugs deserve to be burned at the stake and then fed to hungry baby whales.

Bugs bring out the worst in me. They bring out the violent murderer in me. Any bug I find outside is subject to an epic shriek and intense self-consciousness. Any bug I find inside my house is sentenced to a high-pitched yelp and death by the tissue. Any bug I find in my bedroom...

I don't talk about what happens to those bugs.


Please don't take this post personally. I don't go out of my way to kill bugs. I really don't. I just wish bugs and humans would acknowledge their differences and keep apart from each other. Why are you bugs getting so up-close and personal with us all the time? It's really rather inconsiderate.

Hey, you know what's even more inconsiderate?

The idiotic Discovery Channel and National Geographic television episodes that advertise facts about bugs that NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW. Even worse are the idiotic creeps who watch those shows and then run to school and tell their friends all the facts. Those are the only nerds you have the right to bully. I know I bully them. You know what I did to this one kid on my soccer team who had a pet tarantula? I gave him a really long, mean stare. But believe me--he deserved it.

Believe me--I think it's great all the things bugs do for the ecosystem. They pollinate. They decompose. Some of them are even courteous enough to eat other bugs. But would it really hurt if God made bugs look like this instead of like they are in real life?

I know I wouldn't mind. I could hug some of the bugs in that movie.

This post hasn't been very eloquent, but hang in there.

I'll talk to you another time.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

I Met a Goddess Today: She Had Braces

Welcome, my beloved nerdlings. You've decided to embark on a journey with me today, a journey of not only sight and sound but of mind. You have entered...The Twilight Zone.

Surprised I didn't make a nerd spin-off on that? So am I. Nothing clever came to mind. Sorry.

Now I thought I might mention to you some notable events of the last few days to you. That okay? Sure it is.

First of all, when I say "notable," I mean notable to me. I'm a nerd, you have to remember. Anything and everything is notable to me. Literally. That's barely a joke. My social skills are so limited, I get confused about what's okay for conversation and ehwat's not. Sometimes I might really slip up. For example, say I'm at school and some friends of mine are talking about a party they had last weekend:

Friend of Mine #1: Ha, remember when you chugged three cans of Coke Zero and then ran like twenty laps around the house wearing a that chick's bikini?"

Friend of Mine #2: That was hilarious. And remember when that other kid started up a game of underwater strip poker in the swimming pool?

Me: Yeah, and remember when your uncle drove you there in a silver minivan, dropped you off and said "Be back by ten." You were wearing a Gap hoodie, jeans, and Nike tennis shoes. Remember that? And remember how you walked up to the door, knocked three times and rang the doorbell once? And how they answered the door and you said "Hello" and they said "Welcome"? That was funny. Remember all that?

Maybe I'm exaggerating just a little bit, but I'm sure you get the point.


1. On Sunday, I sat next to a family at Church who had a two-year-old son with Down Syndrome. The kid is totally adorable. Almost too adorable. He is also endlessly energetic. He yells all the time during the service. During Communion, he ran away from his parents and came to our pew. After examining me (close-up) for about five minutes, he then proceeded to dive behind my parents to take a short nap on our pew. It was pretty funny.

2. Also on Sunday, my brother had a genius idea. If he ever does get a cell phone, (believe me, though--he won't), he's going to keep his phone in a really big black bag. And then he's going to set his ring tone so that it's the recording of a baby crying. What do you think will happen when someone calls him? Do the math.

3. While driving to school today, one of the kids in our carpool boards the car with a shoe box in his hands. Somebody asks, "What's in the shoe box?" He tells them. It's a live lobster.

4. I saw a bunny rabbit in our backyard during dinner tonight!!! I only glimpsed it before it bounced off, but it was a surreal experience. I love our backyard.

5. I went to a cook-out last Saturday. I'm friends with nerds, so this was a get-together mostly for nerds, I'll have you know. Yeah, we played basketball and video games--(bleh), but we also watched The Matrix and played ping pong. But believe me when I say this--nerds can get pretty crazy too when they're around good friends. I took my shoes off at the beginning of the cook-out and left them on the basement floor. When I came back, one was behind the TV and the other was in a popcorn-making machine.

6. Today I saw an impossibly beautiful girl. I would say "The most beautiful girl in the world" but I'm not one for hyperboles. Believe me when I say this: she was stunning. I saw her in the halls about two hours after school. Just me and her. I literally--literally sighed when I saw her. My male instincts almost sprung into play, but then I hit a speed bump: how do you impress a girl who you just met in the halls? If I was a girl, I would drop my books and see if she would help me pick them up. (If I was a girl and I did that, I would also be a lesbian.) But I honestly couldn't do anything at all. Nothing. It was infuriating. I would have liked to extend a hand for her to shake and then say "Excuse me, but I think you're beautiful." Yeah, that kind of stuff only works in your head.

So, alas, I couldn't do anything. I saw her for about fifteen seconds and then she was gone. Gone. All gone. As I said before, I sighed. Then she left. So I sighed, gasped, and then groaned. God, she was so beautiful. Don't tell me why I think so. She had braces. Short. Brunette. Wow.

I think she was a year younger than me, because I didn't recognize her from my grade. But she was just so striking, I couldn't help but mention her.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Video Games Ruined My Life: Good Thing I Have Two Left

Stolen from It's a hilarious site, but funny t-shirts are a dangerous product. You get people who just grab you by the shoulders and hold you steady so they can read the t-shirt. Awkward. I feel so violated.

I don't know about everyone else, but I'm getting sick and tired of these idiotic, melodramatic, self-centered posts about romance in my life. I've had strong feelings for three girls in the past few years. The first: Broke up with me and did unforgivable things at her school afterward. The second: She is both moving to San Fransisco and my sister's friend. Like that was ever going anywhere. The third: Well, the third is Ginny Weasley. She's taken.

In other words, there's nothing left to talk about! That stage is dead and gone for me! I'm turning over a new leaf! Ew, nevermind. There's a caterpillar on that leaf.

But seriously--why did I ever talk about my girlfriend? Nerds don't have girlfriends until after college when they get really rich! Until then, nerds assemble at lunch to complain about how unfair it is that no girls like them. Nerds go over to each other's houses to look at Asian internet porn on each other's macs. Nerds mope around near the punch bowl at school dances. The only girls nerds ever talk about are either from Star Wars or Lord of the Rings.

So before I launch into my post unrelated to my romance life, I think I have something you'd like to see: my new YouTube video!

A Moderately Relaxing Video

And now onto the subject of my post today: video games.

A few things separate me from the average nerd. The most prominent one is the fact that I'm technologically impaired. I don't have a Facebook, a phone, and I have no idea how to program anything that runs on electricity. Most importantly: I NEVER PLAY VIDEO GAMES.

Let me go all old-fashioned on you for a moment and just say this:

I despise violent video games. I hate them. I totally hate them. Can't stand them. I almost hate violent video games over violence.

I watch over my friends' shoulders as they play video games that involve gunning down Iraqis, slaughtering enemy soldiers, and often killing civilians. Games like Grand Theft Auto where you get extra points by running over civilians and beating hookers totally disgust me. And there's only one explanation for why teens play them: they have these urges stored up in them all day to murder innocent people but they know they can't. So they get home...and they murder some innocent (though fake) video game characters!

It's not just the violent video games I have a problem with either. Video games in general. They're okay when used in moderation, but let's be honest--when are video games ever used in moderation?

They're destroying social skills. The leftover brain cells that weren't vaporized by hours of texting, Facebook, and web surfing are feasted upon by video games. Modern Warfare...Wii...Halo...Grand Theft Auto...Game Boy...Nintendo...They're going to bring the downfall of the human race, I tell ya!

Think about this: what do you do when you go over to a friend's house? If you don't text side-by-side, or visit Facebook together, or go to the movies/an amusement park, you probably play video games. I don't know about girls, but I know that's certainly true for guys. How many of your friends' names do you remember?

In conclusion, all video games should be disposed of by three methods: burned at the stake, broken on the great wheel, or given to the lepers.

Join the Revolution! Destroy the consoles! Burn their churches and claim their women!!!

That is all.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Q: What's The Most Efficient Way to Kill a Joke?

A: Make it happen.

I've been making a joke out of the fact that my girlfriend hasn't talked to me in the last two weeks. "Uh oh, maybe she's died," and all that.

And now she's dead.

Okay, fine. She's not dead. She's dead to me, but she's certainly not dead to her new lover who I caught her sleeping with in the wine cellar at a friend's party. Actually, that would be the second lie I've told in this post. (Maybe the third, if you disagree with my declaration that the most efficient way to kill a joke is to make it happen. Arguably, the most efficient way to kill a joke is to decapitate a chicken right after the joke is said.)

Things are going fine for months at a time except for the fact that we have the largest amount of trouble setting up dates. Finally we set up this adorable date at PF Changs. Things are going along swimmingly until she cancels several hours before we have the date. She doesn't answer my e-mails or respond to my calls for more than two weeks after that point. Then she sends me an e-mail telling me why she wants to break up with me. I'm not one to cry but she certainly jarred me into a state of shock. And after all of that happened, I found out that she's pregnant.

Pregnant and married.

That makes five lies.

For sake of privacy I won't talk to you about the e-mail. One thing I will tell you: it's one thing to have a relationship with a guy that you cut off after only several months. It's another thing to cut of the relationship with the guy, and then act idiotic about it when you go to school. I guess it wouldn't do any good to tell you exactly what she did, but I will tell you that I can't believe I would have ever dated a girl who would do things like that.

She really rained on my parade. And that was inconsiderate, because not all of the animals and staff for that parade were performing inside the tent. There were some elephants, clowns, exotic birds, and others who got really wet.

After she breaks up with me, what do I do? Any logical and stubborn guy wouldn't ever contact her simply because he was ticked off. I think I managed to wait about sixteen minutes before I called her again. And boy--was that the most pathetic voice mail anyone could ever leave, on television or reality. I can't even bring myself to tell you about it. Maybe I'll tell you later. Five years later.

Let me tell you something else:

I would like a cell phone, please.

That doesn't sound like me, but I'm telling the truth. I don't even need a phone that does anything beside making calls. I won't ever text, because texting to me is a sinful act. Just like Facebook...

Which brings me to my next point. God, I'm sounding so ADHD.

My ex-Best Friend just got a Facebook. This is a major betrayal to the diminishing circle of nerds that I used to be able to surround myself with. The only friends I have left who don't have a Facebook have a Twitter. The only friends I have left who don't have either text as often as any other teenager.

Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but sometimes isn't it worth it to be different just for the sake of being different?

Maybe I don't need a cell phone after all.

I am in the process of building my blog list as payment for all of my beautiful followers.

I also call attention to the poll on the sidebar. I think the results are going to be almost unanimous, but vote anyways.

Stay tuned!!!