He Who Hesitates Masturbates

First things first! I have to uphold my end of the deal. I'm really not fond of upholding my end of deals--I much prefer to cash in favours. For example: you're welcome for helping you study for the math test last week, now will you do me a huge favour sleep with my friend here? He may look obscenely overweight and deathly pale, but he's a cheetah in bed. Anyway, he has a really low self-esteem and I think he needs this. Remember, you owe me.

These are all of the blogs I know of that linked to me, but nobody else alerted me that they had linked to me. If I skipped you over, tell me so and I'll try to squeeze you in somewhere into my outrageously busy posting schedule. Consider yourself lucky if I link to you by July.

This blog also happens to be The Chin Scratcher's Blog of Specialness for this fortnight. It's very artistic, very eloquent, very insightful, and can always be sure to have multitudes of beautiful photographs. Thank you, Adrienne, from Love Philter.

As you will soon be able to infer from its bizarre yet somehow syllabically satisfying title, this blog is very original and never gets boring to read. Its one of the few blogs left in the world that I can read for fifteen minutes without losing focus and forgetting where/who I am. Thank you Eeshie, from I Don't Skinny Dip, I Chunky Dunk.

Everyone I know who I in a band, I think, is an insanely cool person. It's no exception with the author of this blog, who plays bass. The posts are funny and very relatable, and it's a really awesome blog. Thank you Boyd, from Boyd's World.

Although she's extremely modest about the superior quality of her blog, the author of this blog is a fantastic writer and her posts are always inspiring and/or interesting to read. Most importantly, she appreciates gay people for their general awesomeness, a trait which cannot possibly be undervalued in the world we live in today. Thank you Lexa Be, from Lexa's Insanity.

And that, I think, concludes my list of people to link to. This deal has no expiration date on it, so if you ever decide to link to me, give me a holler and I'll make certain to return the favour. I did not get as big of a turn-out as I expected, even though I appealed to everyone's self-centered side. And I need exactly 100 followers. I don't think you understand. I NEED 100 FOLLOWERS!!!

In case any of you were concerned about me, no, I did not recover from my sickness before the track meet last Wednesday. Despite the fact that I started crying and collapsed in my coach's arms before the start of the meet so as to convince him not to make me run, I did still run. As usual, I ran the 4X100, 200, and the 400. I felt really awful the entire time, and I didn't run well at all. I was scheduled to run the 4X400, but I threw a right little tantrum, banging my tiny fists on the ground and shouting "My mother will hear of this!" until they agreed to take me out of it. I went home early and haven't gone to practice since then.

Don't you hate it when you're feeling sick and you just KNOW you have a fever because you feel like you're insides are on fire and your very skin is being licked by yellow flames that are slowly consuming you and you're drenched in sweat and your hair is plastered to your forehead and you're ready to rip off all of your clothes and hop in a bathtub of ice cubes and you go to the school nurse to get your temperature taken and she plucks the thermometer out of your mouth and it reads 98.6? And the nurse just has that knowing smile on her face and she's like, "Well, okay, Ferris Bueller. How about I give you a cough drop and send you right back to class? Hm?"

And the nurse has always thought you're kind of weird anyway, ever since you asked her in third grade to check you for an STD. It was JUST TO BE SURE. Why can't she understand that?

Then today, I went to the coach to tell him I still wasn't going to be able to go to practice today on accounts of my asthsma ("Sucks to your ass-mar!") and he said fine, but was I going to be ready to go to the meet tomorrow? I told him I had no idea there was going to be a meet tomorrow. It was then that he informed me that this will be the last meet of the season.

I, of course, need to go to this meet. I have not yet lettered in track, and this is my one opportunity to save my reputation. I will run--rain, sleet, or snow. Even if I suffer from stomach pains during the day and go to the school nurse only to find out that I'm pregnant with an alien baby, I will still run in the meet tomorrow. Even if I swallow an entire bar of soap because what started out as a stupid joke turned out to be really tasty soap, I will still run in the meet tomorrow. Even if I am captured by neurotic Russians who emasculate me using the three-day-old carcass of a male goldfish, I will still run in the meet tomorrow. Even if I am hunted, slaughtered, and devoured on my way to school by a pack of traveling polar bears, I will still run in the meet tomorrow.

Last night at Youth Group there was a kid following me around who has some developemental disabilities. I had no problem with this whatsoever until I made one comment about how the 80's was such a spectacular decade for film, and the 90's were just not comparable. He somehow chose this as a good moment to ask me in astonishment, "You like porn?!" I told him that this was not an appropriate thing to say. He ignored me and went to tell the Youth Group leaders, my sister, and all the girls in the Youth Group that I like porn, and that I have Playboy magazines stacked to the ceiling in my bedroom.

They, thankfully, ignored him. It was a big surprise to them, then, when I admitted to all of it only moments later.

I hope some of you recognize my amazing title from The Cable Guy. I've been using it as advice on all of my friends, none of whom have seen the movie, and they all think I'm fantastically witty and an absolute genius. I didn't bother to cite my sources.

This last weekend was a weird weekend for me movie-wise. I watched The Cable Guy, Heathers, and Being John Malkovich. I'm pretty sure that's about as weird as you can get for a weekend movie fest. (In regard to the third movie, I just loved Charlie Sheen's appearence in the movie. It was moving right along, you're thinking this is a good movie even though it's pretty bizarre, and then all of a sudden out of nowhere--BAM!!! It's Charlie Sheen!)

I have good and bad news concerning my dealings with the ladies recently. Bad news, as a general rule, always comes first. Just like the man always...nevermind.

Anyway, the bad news is that I totally messed it up forever with one of the two girls I really like at school. You know, I have to come off as extremely suave, dark, and mysterious with her, because she's more popular than I initially realized. She is, in fact, extremely popular. She's practically a Heather. First impressions are everything between me and this girl. But you know how when you're sick, everything seems overwhelming and profoundly confusing? I got the opportunity to talk with her last Friday, the day after I came back from missing school, and what came out of my mouth made no sense whatsoever.

I have a decent ability to come up with jokes on the spot. Something ALWAYS comes to mind, even if it's insufferably corny or its happens to be the same joke I've been using over and over again for the past two days with anyway I come across in the hallway. But somehow, for the first time in ages, nothing came to mind. I couldn't even think of anything to say at all. All of a sudden I didn't know who I was or where I was, and I totally freaked out.

The words that ended up escaping my mouth were a compromise between "You forgot" and "How did it go?" Neither of these things made any sense at all, and were probably my subconscious' attempt at communicating with her subconscious. She stared at me in confusion for a moment, I turned furiously red, and then she walked off at an alarming rate in the other direction without a word.

On the flip side, I was assigned to be partners in a science project with the girl of my dreams. The girl with "such blue eyes" who I've been obsessing over for the past year or so. Actually, she didn't look too thrilled to be my science partner. But if she comes over to my house to work on the project, she's not leaving. I can see to that.

Whoever in the last post left me an anonymous comment warning me that there was going to be a big surprise at school on Monday and Wednesday, could you please, if not identify yourself, then tell me what you were talking about? I was expecting a surprise half-birthday party or something of that nature. I was bitterly disappointed!

Question: What does Michael Jackson love about twenty eight year olds?

Answer: The fact that there are twenty of them.

Cheers,
That Blond Guy