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Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Hey, I Think You've Got Something On Your Face. Oh Wait. It's Your Face

Do you ever find yourself in a situation where you're eating something and you're like "Mm...this is delicious" but then you look down and it's a baby and you're like "OH SHIT."

Because that happened to me today.

Right now I'm listening to the song "New York" by Frank Sinatra to get me in the mood. To get me in the mood for what? you may ask. Well, I really don't know. This is the first post I've written in a while in which I really have no idea what I'm going to write about. So buckle your seat belts. Adjust your rearview and side mirrors. Take off the emergency brake. Make certain that all of the passengers in your car have their seat belts fastened as well. Put the car in reverse and then look in the rearview mirror. OH MY GOD IT'S A CRAZY AXE MURDERER BEHIND YOU!!! Oh wait no, it's just a squirrel. But wait, what is a squirrel doing in your car? Oh wait, you're not in a car. You're sitting down in the middle of the woods somewhere with no clothes on except for a straw hat and what feels like bear grease rubbed all over your body.



How was your day today? My day was okay. Oh my gosh! You know how I just said I was listening to that song by Frank Sinatra? I just stopped to watch the video and discovered that it was Anti-Muslim. I am so incredibly sorry! I'm also angry at the person who made that video because I think he's a fucking prick. In fact, I think I'll tell him that. I have a YouTube account. He has a YouTube account. I'm going to pound his sorry ass. Which can be interpreted as both sexual and threatening. Which is starting to excite me.

(One second.)

...

Well, I did it. And I think I got a bit carried away. You'll agree if you followed the link to the video that I just posted a second ago. Damn. Now he's going to start trolling my YouTube channel and watching all of my videos and telling me how much I suck and sending me e-mails and finding my blog and posting hateful comments on it. Like that lesbian David Bowie fan from several months ago. I hope I didn't just start a YouTube war. Do you have any idea how easy it is to start those? Because it's really easy. Like, easier than your mom. BAM. Did that sting? I hope so.

Don't you hate it when someone owes you money so you ask them to pay you back and they say "No" so you punch them in the face but they just laugh? And then you punch them again but they still just laugh? So you keep punching them and punching them until their face is bloody and they're on the ground because you want them to stop laughing but they just won't stop laughing? And so you punch them and punch them until they stop moving but the laughing doesn't stop and then you realize at that point that you're the one who's been laughing the whole time?

Yeah, I hate when that happens!

Do you guys remember Lorenze and the Very Wise, Talking Goldfish? Well, I have a really really boring math class this year with a Romanian teacher who I'm really attracted to but who also bugs the hell out of me. Do you know anyone like that? Yeah, I don't know whether to fuck her or kill her. Or both. But anyway, I'm not going to pay attention at all during that class so I'm going to have lots of free time to do stuff. And today I wrote another short story kind of like Lorenze and I'm thinking I'll be able to write more of those.

So would you guys like it if I posted more of that type of stuff? Or not? Just tell me. I'm going to give you a preview of what I'm talking about in the next post. But just give me your opinion in the comments. Also, if you think that I need to shorten my posts, come out and tell me!!! Because it seems like majority rules in this situation, but if someone specifically tells me why they think I should make shorter posts, I will be far more inclined to consider it. You can even leave me an anonymous comment if you like. Just tell me.

Also, here's a picture of a naked woman.



Are you shocked that I just posted that? I am too, a little bit. Guess who didn't take their meds today? (Raises hand.) I wonder if I'm actually going to go through with this. What do you think?

Movie Quote of the Day: "What's happenin', hot stuff?" -Long Duk Dong, Sixteen Candles

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Sunday, August 28, 2011

For Those of You Who Are Not Yet Tired Of My Face: My Series Photograph








Like I said before, I don't know what I'm going to do with these, or if I'm even going to do anything at all. I might take even more so that I can get a really massive collection, and then darken some and light some to make some sort of pattern or design--or maybe even to form a picture. Like a penis. Ha ha. Or something.

Vote on my poll!

Movie Quote of the Day: "Oh man, I shot Marvin in the face!" -Vincent, Pulp Fiction

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Friday, August 26, 2011

A Post About Nothing Much At All. But Look! Kittens!

I'll begin this post by saying that last night I watched 2001: A Space Odyssey for the first time, and I was on my hands and knees for an hour with a sponge and the stain remover solution--wiping bits of brain off the walls and furniture because WHEN I WATCHED THAT MOVIE MY MIND EXPLODED.

Watching that movie was what I imagine it would be like to have sexual intercourse with an angel: slow-moving, overwhelmingly beautiful, surprisingly complicated, and with a killer twist ending. (That analogy doesn't make any more sense to me than it does to you.) I definitely loved the movie, although I don't know what exactly I loved about it, and I have no fucking clue what it was supposed to be about. I think I like it better that way, though. It's like closing your eyes while you're screwing an ugly chick. Just concentrate on how it feels. The emotions. The sensations. If you open your eyes too early, you're like, "Oh, shit. Get that thing out of my face!" So it's better to keep your eyes closed.

Two sex-related metaphors in the same paragraph!!! Do I get a cookie?

Speaking of pussies, I think it's about time that you met mine.



Ha!!! You thought I was talking about vaginas, didn't you? Nah, these are my two cats, Lucky and Socks. We got them from the pound sometime around four years ago, and now they're members of the family. That's Lucky on the left, and Socks on the right, because she has little white feet, although you can't see them now. Socks is the one who chases rubberbands, sneezes a lot, and jumps on people's backs from the tops of bookshelves. Lucky is the one who has weird skin problems and is always rubbing up against sharp objects. He's also the one who ran away for a week and was found by the neighbor's dog, who was coincidentally ALSO named Lucky. Pretty lucky, huh?

I had another migraine today. I sincrely hope I do not have brain cancer. I have semi-serious headaches probably 3-5 times a week, but I only get a bad migraine every other month or so. And when I do, it feels like I'm giving birth to an alien fetus in my skull. I went back to bed around 11 and lay there for an hour, unable to fall asleep. Just twisting and turning. When your stomach really hurts and it feels like you're building up and up to something, all that's going to happen is you throw up. When it's a migraine, you know that you're building up and up and going nowhere.

Finally I got an ice pack and slept with that under my neck. I also took a couple of Benodryl to clear my sinuses and help me go to sleep. (Side note: when I was little and couldn't fall asleep, I was scared Santa Claus wouldn't come to our house if I was still awake. So my mom used to give me like three or four Benodryl so I could fall asleep.) When I woke up, it wasn't completely gone, but it was a lot better. For any of you who get migraines, you'll know that when it goes away it's without a doubt the best feeling in the world. It's better than an orgasm. You feel like you've died and gone to heaven.

I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm talking about this. I haven't even said anything funny. I just need someone to talk to about it because when I tell my friends, they're like "Oh" and when I tell my family they're like "Would you stop complaining?" and anyway I just feel creepy talking to my stuffed animals at my age. So I'm telling you guys.

Also, you know my profile picture? That actually comes from a photograph series I took several weeks ago. Kind of like this one, which won a National Scholastic Photography award except a lot more and I haven't figured out how to combine them yet.



Would you guys like to see the series? It'll probably take a lot of time to post it, so I don't want to bother unless you really do want to see it. So tell me in the comments and I'd be happy to post it if any of you like photography and would care to see it.

This post wasn't AS long. Don't forget to vote on the poll and tell me whether or not you like longer or shorter posts. Because some of you are like "Wa wa wa I like longer posts." But others of you are like "Wa wa wa I like shorter posts." And it's confusing.

Listen to this song and then die of happiness, like I did.

Also, this is my last blog post. Ever. Just thought you should know.

Movie Quote of the Day: "I was gettin' somethin'," -Declan, Leap Year

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

My Love/Hate Relationship with My Nordic Heritage, My Last Long Post Ever

Well, I've had about two weeks of school and I'm already about ready to turn back to methamphetamines. It's not what you think, though. I myself don't actually do it. I just sit down with people who are currently under the influence of meth and listen to them talk about what it feels like. It's pretty dangerous, though. One time while I was doing it a guy thought I was a piece of toast and tried to eat me. Once I stopped him and explained that I was not in fact a piece of toast but a human being, he was very embarrassed and kept apologising profusely. We're friends now. We e-mail.

Where was I going with this story?

Anyway, the first two weeks of school haven't been so bad as I thought they would. I'm still actively avoiding that same girl I've been talking about for like the past five years, I'm still perfecting the art of falling asleep with my eyes open during classes (an amazing trick to learn although it's kind of awkward if you ever have wet dreams), and I'm still just as much of a nerd as I've always been.

And just when you thought I couldn't get anymore blonde, I got even blonder!!! Wondering how that's possible? Well, I got blonde highlights in my hair!



See them?

Tell me what you think, and give me your honest opinion. Personally, I think they're fantastic, and I think most of my friends and family agree as well. I think the blonde highlights vastly succeed in bringing out my blondeness, don't you think? That may be kind of hard to understand for those of you who aren't big hair fanatics like I am. Basically, the blonde highlights really bring out my blondeness, (my blonde hair.)

All of this blondeness has gotten to my head a little, and I've become a little obsessed with my Aryan features. It's really brought out the German in me, and it's beginning to frighten those around me. I've requested that my friends start referring to me as "Kaiser Christof," or just a simple "Chancellor." When I announced this to them, one of my friends sarcastically responded, "How about we just call you Der F├╝hrer?" I paused, looked thoughtful, and told him I liked the sound of that.

It's also gotten me thinking a lot about my heritage. And when I refer to my heritage, I mean every single nation of the world where there are white people. I'm not descended from just a handful of European peoples, I am descended from all of them. Many moons ago, all of the great white nations of the world came together and created a white man whiter than any ever before. A white man to end all white men. A white man so white that he bordered on black. And he was called Christopher.

I realised that every single girl I've been involved with/seriously interested for as long as I remember were blonde-haired and blue-eyed. Is that racist? I hope not, because I really like Jewish people and stuff. As long as they're not in your face about it, you know. Just as long as they sort of keep it to themselves. But there's something about that type of girls that just drives me WILD. I've had a few crushes on some brunettes, some Indians, a few Jews, and some Asians, and I admittedly did date a brunette for a grand total of three months. (In fact, you may know her. Yep, it's -Sam.) But when I see a really beautiful girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, my insides just go all gooey and my penis gets big and hot. Did I just write that down? Yeah, I guess I did. What are you going to do about it?

I also got to thinking about the ups and downs of being descended from the Germans. I did come up with a few ups, but mostly just downs.

UPS:

1) Girls I don't even know walk up to me and start feeling my hair, telling me that they "just wanted to see if it was real." Sure, some of them are older women, but I'll take what I can get.
2) High cheekbones.
3) A strong immune system and willingness to obey when strong men in army boots shout orders at me.
4) Enjoyment at being chastised with little whips.
5) My passion for sausage, (although I'm now a vegetarian) but tendency to befriend the pig and have meaningful conversations with it before I slaughter it and eat it.



DOWNS:

1) I'm really, really pale. I'm so pale that it's contagious. I'm so pale that when you look at me from the right angle on a sunny day, I turn transparent. I'm so pale that when I put on sunscreen, people ask me, "Hey, Christopher, where'd you get that tan?" I'm so pale that Count Dracula took one look at me and just said, "No."
2) I turn red really, really easily. People know whenever I'm embarrassed, uncomfortable, nervous, or angry. It's impossible for me to hide my emotions. My parents know when I'm lying. My teachers know when I didn't study. Girls know when I like them. Boys know when I like them. I look in the mirror when I'm naked and see myself blush. I blush whenever someone mentions the name "Diane Kruger." I blush whenever I listen to a song by Madonna. I blush when I tie my shoes. I blush when brush my fucking teeth!
3)A lot of people are angry with me for being so white. I've been called whitie, blondie, cracker, and Nazi more times than I can count, (although I can only count to thirteen as it is). When I was in middle school, a gang of seniors playing soccer shouted at me from across the field, calling me a Nazi and telling me "go back to Auschwitz!" One of them threw the ball and it hit me squarely in the face. Blood dripping from my mouth, I smiled, licked it off my teeth, and congratulated them on their aim. When I turned back to say something to my friends, I found that they had all gone.
4)Although I love the German language, I can't learn it because people would think I was neo-Nazi. Which I'm NOT. Just so you know. You believe me, right?
5) Skin cancer

Well, I think it's about to time that I end this post, don't you? It's dragged on about long enough. I'll really try to shorten the length of my posts after this.

Before I start, I'm going to make these announcements for the last time and then I'm done with them. 1) For anyone who is still interested in completing the Blogging Survey Named Nicolai, you can find it below. And remember that once you do it, you're supposed to tag your followers so all of them can do it too and that will just make their day. I know it will. 2) If anyone still hasn't seen my video blog, you better watch it, because that's not going to happen again anytime very soon. 3) If you want to hear about my first day of school, I wrote about it in the post below this one. More or less.

Movie Quote of the Day: "BREAD MAKES YOU FAT?!" -Scott, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Fine Fine Fine Here's a Post About My First Day of School

I'm warning you, though, that you're going to find it extremely boring and disappointing, just as many of you found my voice to be when I posted my video blog last week. Speaking of which, NO, that was not my bedroom. My bedroom is the most masculine place on the face of the earth. It reeks of sweat and alcohol, the walls are covered floor to ceiling with posters of topless beach bunnies, and I let wild pigs roam freely through it.

But without further ado, here's the post about my first day of school. Don't get your hopes up, because most likely it's going to be a really dull, shitty post. For those of you who voted that I shorten my posts, I promise that I will make the effort. But not in this post.

Well I'll begin by telling you that I had to take the bus to school because my car is in the shop and my mom had to use the Honda Civic to go do some mom thing like eat at Doc Green's or browse for couch pillows at Pottery Barn. She dropped my brother, sister, and me off at the nearest bus stop, which is still like fifteen minutes away because we live in Atlanta Fucking Georgia and we have to drive six miles just to go to the bathroom.

After she dropped us off at the bus stop, which is right next to this tiny Methodist church, I said hello to a handful of people I knew and then realised that I really needed to go to the bathroom, because I had drunk at least eleven glasses of orange juice that morning to calm my nerves. I glanced at my watch and decided that if I didn't run to the bathroom in the church right then, then I would have to go in my pants during the bus ride. (I've had to do that more than once in my lifetime, and it's always embarrassing to explain to other people who are not always very understanding.) So I sprinted to the church, went to the little churchy reception area, swore I was a baptised Christian, and asked to use the restroom.

I walked out a couple of minutes later with a mildly content expression on my face, thanked the woman at the front desk, and walked back out to the bus stop. The moment I walked outside, my heart plummeted and my mouth fell open.

Everyone was gone. All the kids were gone. I jogged up to the road and looked down it, only to see the school bus speeding off in the other direction. I had missed it. I missed the bus.

After a bit of yelling and shouting, I collapsed onto the ground and pounded my fist against it. Gradually, my furious anger transformed into passionate lust, and I dry-humped the ground for three or four minutes before I could pull myself back together. I reached for the cell phone in my pocket and was seized by dread as I discovered the pocket was empty. I had left my cell phone at home. I NEEDED to get to school. It was the first day, and last year I had terrible attendence, so I couldn't just miss the day. I decided at that point that I had no choice but to hitchhike.

For any of you who have ever hitchhiked, you'll know that people don't stop just because you're standing there sticking your thumb out. You have to give them a little sugar, if you know what I mean. You have to show them a little somethin' somethin'. Which is exactly what I did. It took me about fifteen minutes, but finally an old, light blue punch buggy pulled up onto the shoulder of the road where I was. By that time I was standing there in just my Hanes boxer briefs, the rest of my clothes lying in a small pile at my feet.

I scooped up my clothes, pulled open the car door, and hopped inside as I was greeted by the driver. As I closed the door behind me and turned to meet him, I received my second surprise of the day.

The driver was a clown. Red nose, flappy shoes, white make-up, rainbow wig, the whole deal. He gave me a little smile and then started the car up right away. I continued to share at him in shock, but before I could say anything, he said, "So where you headed?"

I swallowed my surprise and gave him the address of my school, realising with dread that we were still about forty five minutes away and that this was going to be a long, awkward drive. He asked me my name and I told him, just my first name. He said his name was Jerry.

"So, um, you're like a circus clown?" I asked hesitantly.

He continued staring at the road. "You mind if we don't get into that right now?" he said. For a clown, he seemed like a pretty serious guy. I told him no, I didn't mind.

We drove for just a couple of minutes in silence. Suddenly, loud thrashing noises erupted from the back seat, which I hadn't even seen since I got in the car. I turned in my seat and saw something about the size of a small child squirming from within a plastic trash bag. Muffled cries came from it that sounded something like, "Help! Help!"

Jerry the Clown calmly took one hand off the wheel and reached for something under the seat. "Mind if I ask you to do me a quick favour?" he said.

"Not at all," I answered quickly.

He pulled out a big, rusty wrench from under the seat and handed it to me. "Would you give that bag a couple of good hard thwacks with this thing here? That'd really help me out."

I shrugged, took the wrench, and did as he suggested. After the fifth or sixth strike, the bag stopped moving. I handed him back the wrench, he thanked me again, and we continued to ride in silence. Some people might say that I should have done something about the abducted child in the backseat, and some would even go so far as to say that I shouldn't have agreed to have hit him with the wrench. But I really think that people's business should just be their business, you know? I didn't want to go nosing around in other people's personal lives. Especially since Jerry was nice enough to give me a ride.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. When we finally got to the school, I thanked him for the ride and hopped out of the car. He sped away immediately and I watched the little blue buggy disappear over the horizon.

I was about to run to find my homeroom, even though I was about half an hour late, but suddenly I realise that I was surrounded by what could have easily been four milion small green turtles. They surrounded me in every direction, leaving only about a square foot of space around m yfeet. They were baring their teeth, and some of them were kicking their little turtle paws into the ground, and at that point I realised that I would have to fight them.

So I got my fists up to prepare myself for a ninja battle against all of these turtles, but then all of them starting to float up into the air and breathe fire. I was like, "HOLY SHIT THESE ARE FLYING, FIRE-BREATHING TURTLES" and I knew that I would still have to fight them.

So I threw some punches and kicks and did a couple of spins and before I knew it I had defeated almost all of them. Finally there was only one that remained and I could tell that he was the Turtle King because he had a small yellow crown perched on top of his head. I bowed to him and he bowed back and said, "You have proven yourself worthy to the turtle race. I now bestow upon you the Crown of the Flying, Fire-Breathing Turtle Kingdom."

And I was like, "Gee thanks. Sorry I just killed like four million of your turtle friends." We both stared a little awkwardly at the sea of dead turtles lying around us.

He put on a weak smile and said, "Don't beat yourself up about it. This kind of thing happens to all of us at least once in our lives. Anyway, here's the crown of all of the Flying, Fire-Breathing Turtle Kingdom. Remember to use it for good and not for evil."

He handed me the little crown from his own head and then he started to slowly disappear until I could barely see him. I shouted out, "Wait! What if I need you?"

Although he was almost invisible, I could see him offer me an old, wise smile. "I will always be with you...in spirit," he answered. And then he was gone.

I pocketed the little golden crown and decided that it was probably too late to go to homeroom, as I had wasted something around fifteen minutes battling the turtle army. I pulled out my schedule and saw that my first period class was math. I sprinted across the campus to the Math/Science Building, huffed and puff up the three flights of stairs, and opened the door to Room 376.

The class was packed with kids, all of whom turned around to stare at me. The teacher, who was standing at the blackboard with a piece of chalk still in her hand, looked at me as well and said, "May I help you?"

I said, "Yeah, sorry I'm late. I'm Christopher Kennedy. I think this is my first class."

She shook her head and said, "That's impossible. Christopher Kennedy is right there."

She pointed to a kid sitting at a desk in the second row and sure enough, it was me. Or a clone of me. But whoever he was, he looked exactly like me. Everyone in the room looked at him and then looked at me. Then they looked back at him, and then back at me. In a moment of utter confusion, I marched over to him and punched him in the face. He punched me back. I pulled his hair. He pulled mine. I kicked him in the groin. He kicked me in mine. I bit his ear. He then stepped back and gave me a weird look. I think everyone in the room was giving me a weird look then.

He said, "Did you just bite my ear?" I turned red and, not knowing what else to do, punched him in the face again. Before I knew it, we were engaged in an all-out brawl, rolling around the room and throwing punches at each other. It was almost a full minute before two kids pulled us apart and we stood across the room staring at one another.

"The question is, which one is the real Christopher?" one kid asked. He then pulled out an freeze ray gun and pointed it back and forth between us. My heartbeat quickened and I held my hands up in the air. My clone followed suit.

"I suggest we ask them a question only the real Christopher would know!" another student suggested. After a little bit of consideration, they finally came up with a question that only the real Christopher would know.

"Name all of Albus Dumbledore's middle names," the same student asked my clone, and the whole class turned to look at him. He gaped at them stupidly for a few seconds and finally admitted that he didn't know. They then turned to me, and I proudly informed them that Dumbledore's full name was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

They all exchanged glances, nodded at each other, and then fired the freeze ray gun at my clone. He burst into a million tiny snowflakes as everyone cheered and lifted me up onto their shoulders. We then scooped up all of the ice and made it into homemade ice cream. The teacher stirred in peaches to the ice cream, and I don't really like peaches. I asked if I could have mine without peaches, though, and she said yes. Then the whole class had ice cream.

The rest of the school day wasn't really remarkable. It was just school as always. Except for the part where I got ass-raped in the boys' bathroom. Which I still don't think I'm ready to talk about. It was scarring. Especially because the gang of guys who did it to me forced me into this big Winnie the Pooh suit before it started and made me wear it while it happened. I don't know why they did that. Why did they do that?

The only other noteworthy part of the day was when I ran into that girl I was talking about in that post from the end of the school year last year. Remember? I told her she had beautiful eyes. Well, when I saw her this time, her stomach was really big and her hands were resting on it, clasped together.

"Hey, how was your summer? Also, are you pregnant or just really fucking fat?" I said, raising my hand in greeting.

"I had a pretty good summer. And yes, I'm pregnant," she answered, smiling sweetly.

"Well? Who knocked you up?" I asked, returning her smile.

"That's not important right now," she said. "What's important is that I had a lot of time to think this summer and I realised that I love you. I've always loved you. And since the real father of the baby left me, I thought it would only be right to ask you to be the father. What I'm asking is for you to marry me."

At that moment an orchestra walked up to us and starting playing this really romantic music, and a bunch of people came out from their hiding places and whispering excitedly to see what my answer was going to be. I looked down into the champagne glass that was suddenly in my hand and fished out the diamond ring that was sitting at the bottom.

"Wow, this is all happening so fast," I said. I looked around at the crowd gathering around us and smiled. Then I looked into her beautiful, blue eyes and said, "Yes. Yes, I will."

Everyone started clapping and came forward to congratulate me, but then she started moaning and clutching her stomach. She shouted, "It's the baby! The baby is coming!" I panicked and looked around to ask if someone would drive her to the hospital, but everyone started leaving because apparently there was an important meeting that they all needed to go to. Finally it was just me and her. It seemed that I would have to deliver the baby.

It wasn't so hard as they make it out to be in movies. I just told her "Push!" a lot and slapped her in the face sometimes because she screamed a lot and it hurt my ears. After a good six of seven minutes, though, it popped right out and I held it in my hands. Something seemed strange about it. It was then that I realised that it was not a human baby, but a baby kitten!

"Honey," said, looking at her. "This baby of yours sure looks a lot like an infant kitten."

She bit her lower lip and said, "Hm. That's strange."

I helped her to her feet and we walked away together, hand in hand. It was my first day of school, and it would certainly not be my last. It was a day that I would never forget. It was a day I would look back on twenty, forty, and sixty years later, recalling it with fondness. I would remember that day, and I would think...

Zorro was here.

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Life and Times of the Hyperintelligent Cow

Day 1

Genius Cow: Why, hello, fellow cow friend. You wouldn't believe the day I've had. When I woke up this morning, my thought processes were suddenly far more complex, I became conscious of my own existence, and I developed an elaborate system of reasoning, logical, and problem-solving skills. I cannot be sure of what caused this sudden and dramatic evolution of my mental abilities, but I imagine it has something to do with the nuclear plant that is located some few miles away from our pasture. Perhaps some of the chemical radiation contaminated a particular square of grass I feasted on, or perhaps it seeped into the water I drank last night. What do you think?

Other Cow: Hard to say.

Day 2

Genius Cow: Salutations, bovine companion. Do you ever find yourself irritated by the number of black flies constantly buzzing noisily around your eyes, ears, tail, etc? Well, as it happens, I've invented a bug repellent of sorts composed of a number of herbs I discovered while grazing in the pasture. I've tested it out and found that it works quite well. You'd be welcome to use some if you like.

Other Cow: No thanks.

Day 3

Genius Cow: Greetings. You are familiar with, I assume, the depression in the road about a quarter of a mile down the driveway known as the cattle gird? Well, I've done some investigating, and I've observed that there is in fact a small path leading around the cattle grid back to the normal road. If we so desire, we could easily make it past the cattle grid to the road and straight to our freedom!

Other Cow: Isn't that something.

Day 4

Genius Cow: I have delightful news! You are aware of that rapidly spreading disease known commonly referred to as Mad-Cow Disease, officially named Bovine spongiform encephalopathy, abbreviated as BSE, which causes symptoms such as decreased milk production, weight loss, changes in behavior, and uncoordinated movements? Well, I've developed a vaccine! It wasn't so difficult, actually. It simply involved the isolation of a certain--

Other Cow: I'd love to chat, but I have four stomach-fulls of grass to digest.

Day 5

Genius Cow: Well, hello, cow friend. Say, have you recently read any of the works of the Austrian neurologist Sigmund Freud? I've been studying some of his most renowned articles on the unconscious mind recently and it's really some remarkable stuff. Freud establishes sexual drives as the primary motivational forces of human life. Isn't that something?

Other Cow: The rancher touches me sometimes.

Day 6

Genius Cow: Do you ever tire of eating the same grass over and over again all the time? Would you be interested in engaging in some culinary experimentations with me? Perhaps playing around with spices, trying out some recipes, hopefully even delving into French cuisine?

Other Cow: Hm. No.

Day 7

Genius Cow: Why, hello. Say, I have an inquiry for you if you're not monumentally busy. Do you ever think about the meaning of life? I mean, what are we doing here? What is the point of our existence? Or is there a point? Is what we have come to know as consciousness perhaps even an illusion? Is there a God? Are we alone in the Universe? Do you ever think about questions like that?

Other Cow: Moo.

Day 8

Genius Cow: Good day, friend. You know, I've been doing some serious thinking, and began to ask myself the question, why should we have to do what the rancher says? Who elected him as the leader? What gives him the right to tell us when to eat, and when to stop eating? When to walk, and when to stop walking? Who gave him the right to brand us, to rob us of our milk, and to even slaughter some of us for our meat and for our skin? Furthmore, what's stopping us from rising up against him and taking back what is ours? And yes, if you're wondering, I am proposing that we stage a revolution.

Other Cow: Okay.

Genius Cow: Really?

Other Cow: I don't know.

Day 9

Genius Cow: Hello again, my dear friend, and perhaps hello for the last time. You see, my ability to think and function as a conscious and intelligent creature, rather than giving me happiness and satisfaction, has made me terribly lonely and quite sad. Finally, I have made the decision to take my own life. Now, before you try to stop me, know that I have given this decision seriously thought, and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me.

Other Cow: Okay.

Genius Cow: Is that all you have to say?

Other Cow: No. Wait.

Genius Cow: Yes? What?

Other Cow: I have a question.

Genius Cow: What's that?

Other Cow: Do you mind if I eat you afterwards?

Genius Cow: (Sigh.) I suppose not.

Other Cow: Jackpot!

______________________________________________

As you may have noticed, I decided not to blog about my return to school today. I'd rather not relive it. Especially because of the time on the second day when I got raped in the boy's bathroom in the history building. Which I don't want to tell you about either. Unless you actually want to hear about it, in which case you can shoot me an e-mail at the following address: justanotherkid33@gmail.com.

If you haven't already seen my video blog, yes, I did make one, and you can find it in the post below. Sorry I didn't find time to respond to all of your comments, as I have been extremely busy, but know that I did read them all and appreciate them. As usual, Kassandrah wins the award for best commenter because she's always nice to me. Which I like.

I believe some of you also have yet to complete the Blogging Survey Named Nicolai. It can be found below. You can post it on your blog and then tag all of your followers and I will be a very very happy blonde person.

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Saturday, August 13, 2011

No Way I'm Going to Make a Video Blog EVER Again. Nope. No Way. Fine, Here It Is

But I hate it. And I know you'll hate it too. But I'm going to post it anyway because I made a super secret special contract with Eeshie. I would tell you about it, but then I'd have to eat you alive. So here's the link:

Touch my penis

Now, of course, I expect every single one of you to make one.

If you haven't already seen the post below this one, which I just wrote yesterday, then please proceed to it immediately. Don't even watch the video blog. Please. The post is about me going to see the Death Cab for Cutie concert last Thursday, which I think is far more interesting than my vlog.

I just got awarded my first ever blog award by Lex!!! Unfortunately, I don't really do blog awards because if I deny that I do them, then nobody will know that I've only gotten one. And also, it would really be hard for me to choose between all of my beautiful followers. Speaking of which, I haven't had anyone complain about not being on the blog list, so I'll assume everyone is content with it. Although I really wish you would all follow the blog Lounge Act, which is one of my favourite blogs in the world but for some reason none of you want to follow it.

I changed my blog description in the header. Do you like it? PWEEEEEEEZ TELL ME YOU LIKE IT!!!

I also start school this Monday so I want all of you to pray for me and wish me luck because this means the world is going to end for me.

Movie quote of the day: "Or she's an uppity, better-than-everyone super skank." -McKenzie, 500 Days of Summer

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Friday, August 12, 2011

BITCHES GUESS WHO JUST SAW DEATH CAB PERFORM LIVE HELL YEAH

I'll give you a hint. His name begins with a C. His favourite colour is periwinkle blue. If he could be any animal he would be a baby turtle. He's a triplet. He lives in Atlanta. He's the author of The Nerd Archives and OH I JUST CAN'T STAND IT ANYMORE IT'S ME!!!

I saw Death Cab for Cutie and Frightened Rabbit play at Encore Park last night and at that point because I have never before been to a REAL concert in my life I lost my concert virginity. It hurt a little bit and there was actually some bleeding, but also it felt really really good. Frightened Rabbit opened and while I didn't love their music, they were Scottish which made them awesome. They also threw out free tickets to their next concert, but apparently the lead singer had weak arms so the tickets didn't get very far and I'm pretty sure all six of them floated down to the same guy. Anyway, they were okay but they play at 8:30 so it was still light outside and the amphitheater was pretty much empty but did I mention they're Scottish?

Death Cab itself was so fucking awesome. Beyond amazing. Ben Gibbard came out wearing a plaid shirt and dark pants, and with his long hair and the Georgia heat, he was drenched in sweat by the end of the show. The band played the perfect mix of new and old songs. Ben was SO nice and really funny. At the beginning of one song, he started to explain what it was about, but got a little tongue-tied and ended up saying "You know what? Eff that. You'll figure it out." He didn't want to use the f-word at all during the concert, which I guess is cool even though I think it's the most beautiful word in the English language besides "plethora."

My friend recorded a lot of the songs, and I would post the videos here, but he had some trouble sending them to me so that's not going to happen unless one of you happens to be a wizard and can solve our technological problems with a little black magic. No? Okay. Then you can find videos of the songs from the concert here and here and even here. (I think every single person in the amphitheater was singing along to that last one. Even the parrot the guy in the row behind us had on his shoulder.)

Those videos are probably better than the ones we recorded. My friend sang loudly along to every one and kept yelling "FUCK YEAH" and I was weeping noisily and repeatedly shouted things like "BEN I WANT YOUR BABIES" and "GIVE US SOME SUGAR" and "BEN TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT." You know. Stuff like that. I wasn't actually all that drunk, but I needed the cover so people wouldn't look at me funny when I asked him to strip.

My phone takes really shitty pictures, so these are the only ones I have where you can tell what's what:



This is Frightened Rabbit playing. Notice all of the emtpy seats. Also, notice their Scottishness.



Frightened Rabbit is still playing. I just posted this picture so you could see the backs of the heads of the most annoying middle-aged couple in all of Greater Atlanta. The husband, the baldy on the right, was not all that bad. His wife, however, stood up and swung her pendulous behind for her entire stay at the concert. She took a million pictures, sung along so loudly that I could hardly hear myself demand to see Jason McGerr's nipples, and was dangerously drunk after about fifteen minutes of them playing. She kept swooping down to kiss her husband on the head, tell him that she loved him, and beg him to never leave her. It would have been touching if her enormous booty didn't keep blocking my view of Ben Gibbard's beautiful face.



That little red dot is Ben Gibbard. He's just called out to an audience member standing in the pit who was apparently not wearing a shirt. He said to the people standing around him, "Please verify that he's wearing some pants. I can't see from here."

It ended a little past eleven. Overall, I am totally glad that this was my first concert. At first I was worried I would hate it because it's combined two of my greatest fears: large crowds and loud noises. But it was actually the most satisfying and amazing experience of my summer. The music filled me up and washed out all of my stress, my worries about starting school again, and my NUMEROUS insecurities. And it actually felt powerful and profound to be part of the crowd. It was like being just another bee in the bee hive. I was part of a heartbeat. A pulse. It made me feel more human somehow. And it was enough to be human.

Okay, Rolling Stone magazine, that's enough of that. This is turning out to be a long post so I'll just end it about now. Oh! Although I do think it's worthy of mention that it was his birthday when he played yesterday. So I was disappointed that Zooey Deschanel wasn't there with him, because I'm worried she didn't receive the love letter I sent her a few months ago. Fortunately, I have a copy, and I'm going to give it to her in case it got lost in the mail.

I also got a haircut yesterday. I told my barber, who's Russian-American, to cut my hair and my beard so that I looked like the bassist from Nena. We ended up with something like this:



I told her to just take a little bit more off. So we ended up with this:



She asked how that it was and I told her it was total shit but I was a busy man so I might as well keep it that way but don't think I was gonna pay her for such a piece of crap job. Then I left. Hurriedly. While stroking my new haircut lovingly.

Yeah, I know this is another long post. If you complain about it, though, I'm going to chop off your feet, coat them in maple syrup, and feed them to a baby grizzly bear.

Thanks for reading guys. You have no idea how much this blog means to me. I start school this Monday and I need you more than ever!!!

Movie quote of the day: "I just got felt up by my grandmother." -Samantha Baker, Sixteen Candles

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

A Post for You Weirdos Who According to the Poll Are for Some Bizarre Reason Obsessed with My Personal Life

I don't know why ANYONE voted for that option on the poll considering my personal life largely consists of me sitting on the couch, eating soap and watching re-runs of I Love Lucy. Sometimes I'm wearing clothes, sometimes I'm not. That's as exciting as it gets.

Nevertheless, for those of you who are so insistent upon finding out what I do in my spare time when I'm NOT eating soap or drooling over Lucille Ball, I'm writing this post for you knowing that it will be a profound disappointment. I find that bloggers who talk too much about their personal life are sexually deprived, attention-seeking, and marginally obese. I am actually all three of these things, but I like to pretend I'm not. Still, I'm going to persevere through the shame and embarrassment and write about the dark, empty abyss that is my life.

I got my braces off last week! (How's that for dark, empty abyss?)

When I sat down and counted how many years in total I have had braces, it added up to eighteen thousand bajillion. Which I was actually quite surprised by, as it was even more than I had anticipated. Now I can actually smile with my teeth showing.


(That one's for Eeshie.)

Actually...YOU be the judge of whether or not I should smile with my teeth showing. Anyway, at the very least, I can now refer to my teeth as "pearly whites" if I see fit. Or more likely, when I spend my first night in a county jail, my 6'4 cellmate named Bubba can refer to them as such before he violently rapes me. But I won't mind so much as I would otherwise, because I got my braces off which is awesome!

The day after that I crashed at a friend's place after a long day full of serious partying during which I at one point became legally wed to a female goat. We smoked a lot and ate a good deal of fine cheeses, and the next morning he actually took me golfing. Before you judge, know that I have never been golfing before in all my life and that this was just an experience for me. It was actually really fun, even though my favourite part was riding around in the golf cart and shouting "HONK HONK" at all of the passerby. I wasn't so great at the golfing part actually.

When we came back his little brother starting cooking chicken burgers, which promptly caught on fire, set off the alarm, and resulted in a firetruck coming to rescue us. They exclaimed in horror at the severe facial deformities I received from the fire before we could assure them that there was no actual fire and that's just what my face looked like.

A few days later I went to Six Flags, (which is an amusement park for those of you who have yogurt for brains and are stupid and don't know anything.) I, unlike my brother, love roller coasters and never tire of Six Flags. I went on rides like Acrophobia, Daredevil, and Goliath, all seen below:



You probably can't see it, but that's me at the top of the ride, spitting over the edge.)


On this ride they like to advertise that the drop is beyond vertical. You could say the same thing about my penis.



This is Goliath, their main attraction. When you're on the top of Goliath, you can see pretty much the entire city and it's amazing and wonderful. When you're going down the biggest hill on Goliath, everything begins to go black and your testicles will feel like they're being fondled by an angel. It's a hell of a ride.

I wore my fave Cookie Monster shirt, which I thought combined with my goatee and torn jeans made me look like a hipster. It turns out, Sesame Street t-shirts are already a thing. One of my friends showed up wearing a Trashcan Man t-shirt, and we also saw two Elmo's and an Ernie. I even saw an eight-year-old kid wearing another Cookie Monster t-shirt. I laughed and said, "Well, one of us is going to have to change." He frowned and ran to get his mom.

I also wasted five dollars at the claw machine trying to get one of these domo-kun stuffed animals. I actually picked it up with the claw all five times, but since the claw was a stupid piece of fucking shit, it always dropped it before it could get to the little deposit box. At the end of my fifth try, I ended up banging my fist on the glass and screaming the word "BITCH" in front of my audience, which consisted of about twenty eleven-year-olds.



Probably one of my favourite parts was getting my caricature done, even though the caricaturist almost got in a fight with the guy before me, who complained about having his caricature bent up and demanded to get his money back. The fight ended with the guy yelling "I'm gonna mess you up" and the caricaturist wimping out and giving him his money back.

Here's my caricature and here's a picture of me. Decide if you think there's any relation at all. If you do, I'll be offended. If you don't, I'll be offended.


I'm doing the thumbs up because that's what I'm doing in the picture, NOT because I'm a happy person or because I like any of you guys. Anyway, once I saw the caricature I told the guy that it looked very German, which I meant as a compliment, but he told me to go suck a fuck. Which I still don't know what that means.

Also, here's a picture of a rock I painted which I think I forgot to show you guys. And also, a picture of a book which I found out about on Katie's beautiful blog. I don't know why I'm showing you either of these things, but I think it has something to do with fate.


I love this book, but everyone time someone sees me reading it, they think I'm depressed and give me a reassuring pat on my knee.


It's modeled after my moose worry stone, which I still keep with me at all times.

I know I know this has been a REALLY REALLY long post but I just had a lot to share with you guys. I'm done now, though. Please be honest about whether or not you liked this post and whether or not you want me to make more like this one. And remember to vote on my poll. And for those of you who have requested that I do video blogging, I am going to protest saying that the last time I did it, it was a total disaster and I lost half my followers. The moment I see any of YOU do vlogs, I will CONSIDER the prospect.

Also, watch this: SNL Celebrity Blogger.

Movie quote of the day: "I'll tell you what he said. He asked me to forcibly insert the Lifeline Exercise Card into my anus!!!" -Kittie, Donnie Darko

Cheers,
That Blond Guy