We're All Just a Bunch of Monkeys in Suits Flying Around in a Peanut Butter Spaceship

That's one of the most notable lyrics from my band's newest album, 1000 Reasons Why Never to Date a Norwegian. It's somewhat autobiographical, but mostly all of us just really hate Norwegians. That's why our band name is "Norwegians Are for Eating."

A lot has happened since my last post a week ago, when I was possessed by my great great great grandfather's disembodied spirit. By the way, being possessed by an old person's spirit is really rather dull. All he ever wanted to do is eat prunes, listen to Bing Crosby on Sirius XM, and gawk at fifteen-year-old girls at the neighborhood swimming pool. Luckily my mother, an ordained minister, was able to perform an exorcism that was relatively painless. There was a lot of flailing of the arms, biting, and spewing of unintelligble phrases in German, but all in all it turned out all right. I got a t-shirt at the end. "I was exorcised by my own mother and all I got was this lousy t-shirt?"

I've been feeling loads better after being sick. I actually lost roughly eight pounds over the period of time that I was sick. Not all of that was because I was sick--most was because I'm refusing to eat because I think I'm fat and ugly. But being sick doesn't help either.

My favourite line from the movie Heathers: "Come on, Heather. Bulimia is so 1987."

Interesting fact for you: when you type in the word "bulimia" into the Google search bar without hitting Enter, the first item that comes up on the list after the word itself is "bulimia tips."

Kind of sad, don't you think?

I had my last meet on Tuesday. I didn't do so well, as expected. In fact, I did so horribly that during the 400 m I was forced to start running in the wrong direction when they fired the gun. When everyone pointed this out, I just said, "Oh, really? Whoops. Well, that's embarrassing. I better head on home." It actually worked pretty effectively, so no hard feelings there.

Wednesday at my school was "Experience the Arts Day." I, being an art student, got the opportunity to miss all of my classes, sit outside, and draw for the entirety of the day. I was using coloured penciles to draw the upper half of a creepy mannequin lady. I then added some additional features to turn it into a surrealist painting, so it turned out pretty bizarre. I also, pretty much unintentionally, made her face look rather masculine, but she has these enormous breasts, so that just makes the drawing all the more disturbing.

It got kind of dull at points, and I got more sunburned than a vampire at a nude beach in South France, but it was pretty good overall. The dancers performed wonderfully, one of their songs being "The Call" by Regina Spektor and another was one that I really liked. In fact, that's an understatement. I absolutely adored it. It drove me insane not to know the name of it by the time it was over. I've tracked down some of the dancers and begged them to tell me the name, but they say they won't tell me the name unless I become a dancer myself. (I plan to do just that, but not quite yet. This is a cruel, judging world.) I'm going to find the name of it, though, so I'll report back to you.

I presented my science project with the girl of my dreams on Thursday, and that went all right. After we were done, I asked her to marry me in front of the entire class, under the impression that she would have no choice but to accept. Instead, she started laughing uncontrollably. The whole class joined in, including the teacher. I was furious and humiliated, so I struck her.

The class got sort of quiet at that point. It was my turn to laugh, then. And I did. Manically.

On Friday I got the opportunity to talk to another girl I really like. She asked me if the girl from the SADD assembly who died because of drunk driving, who had the same last name as me, was my aunt or something. I told her no--that would be stupid. She looked sort of embarrassed and walked off. I shouted after her that she was so dumb, her IQ goes into the negatives. I heard her burst into tears in the distance, so I don't think she liked the joke as much as I did.

Later on I caught up with her and engaged her in conversation. I asked her about lacrosse and she asked me about track. I asked her if she was doing anything over the weekend and she said no. I asked her if she wanted to catch a movie or something, and it was then that I realised I was talking to a wall.

Then today, my brother and I were making an announcement at my church for the youth fundraiser to babysit kids on Mother's Day to raise money for our mission trip to New Orleans. It involved both of us sitting in a stroller and making baby faces as a guy from Georgia Tech wheeled us around the sanctuary and talked about the event. It was humiliating, especially because my baby face is indistinguishable from my John Malkovich face. It was okay, though, because I got a Jack in the Box.

Q: How many women with PMS does it take to change a lightbulb?

A: One. Only ONE!! And do you know WHY it only takes ONE? Because no one else in this house knows HOW to change a light bulb. They don't even know the bulb is BURNED OUT. They would sit in this house in the dark for THREE DAYS before they figured it OUT. And once they figured it out they wouldn't be able to find the light bulbs despite the fact that they've been in the SAME CUPBOARD for the past SEVENTEEN YEARS. But if they did, by some miracle, actually find the light bulbs, TWO DAYS LATER the chair that they dragged from two rooms over to stand on to change the STUPID light bulb would STILL BE IN THE SAME SPOT!! AND UNDERNEATH IT WOULD BE THE CRUMPLED WRAPPER THE STUPID @*!#$% LIGHT BULBS CAME IN! WHY?! BECAUSE NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE EVER CARRIES OUT THE GARBAGE!! IT'S A WONDER WE HAVEN'T ALL SUFFOCATED FROM THE PILES OF GARBAGE THAT ARE 12 FEET DEEP THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE HOUSE. THE HOUSE!! IT WOULD TAKE AN ARMY TO CLEAN THIS... I'm sorry...what did you ask me?

I just watched the SNL skit Laser Cats for the first time ever, and I feel violated.

Cheers,
That Blond Guy