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Friday, September 30, 2011

I'm Thinking About Ending This Blog (Sad Face)

I'm not joking this time, I don't think. Well, I don't know what to think. But I'm considering it.

The Nerd Archives is one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me. That sounds weird to say--to think that writing a blog could be one of the best things that has ever happened to someone. But I really grew while writing this blog. And I think I even sort of discovered myself. (Stop laughing! Stop laughing!) You guys have been so great, and I've had so much fun with The Nerd Archives. I've probably used the word "penis" more times on The Nerd Archives than is even legal in the state of Georgia.

But this blog has also been keeping me from a lot of things. For starters, I've been trying to write a book. But this blog sort of saps all of the creative energy I have, I think. I mean, I write about 800 words in the average NA post--I've written 180 posts. That puts me right at about 144,000 words in all the history of The Nerd Archives. That's a good deal more than the size of the average novel. Theoretically, I could have written my book by now at that rate.

I also kind of want to focus more on spending time in nature, doing creative things, and getting fit. I want to have the abs of Chuck Norris, the mind of Tim Burton, and the skin tone of Katy Perry's fake tan in California Girls. Right now I have none of those things.

But at the same time, I might be being impulsive. I just don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. I feel like I have two conflicting personalities battling each other inside my head. And whichever one I let win could affect the outcome of my happiness in life.

Yeah, that's being a bit dramatic, but I'm a teenager. I think I have the right to be dramatic whenever I want. But none of this is too much of an exaggeration. The Nerd Archives has seen me through my first relationship, two of the most awkward years of my life, the moving-away of four of my friends, the coming-out of three of my friends, my discovery of music, my first real girl-rejection, the amputation of my left leg, and the election of Sarah Palin to presidency of the United States.

Actually, the last two things aren't actually things. But you get the point. This blog has become a part of me. And I'm worried that That Blond Guy is more me than me. And it will be like cloning yourself and you're like cool a clone so you let the clone follow you around everywhere and at first it's really cool but then you're like okay I'm tired of having a clone it's time for you to die clone. And it's like HELLS NO and so you have this epic battle and finally you win but then you feel all empty inside and so you dress up the corpse of your clone and you have conversations with it and you feed it food just like in Psycho and then finally you stab Vera Miles in the chest while she's showering and you're like shit what have I done she was hot. I'm worried that's going to happen to me. Except instead of a clone--it will be The Nerd Archives.

But really, all of you guys are SO cool. Some of you have stuck with The Nerd Archives for a really long time, and you have no idea how much that has meant to me. If I were you, I would read one post of this blog and be like "Wtf?" and then leave and never come back. I wish I could line all of you up and give each of you a great big hug.

I don't know what else I have to say. Thanks to all of you with band suggestions from last time. Meaning Cosette, Boyd, and L. And not actually Boyd, because I've already been listening to the Eels for three years. In fact, guess who was the drummer for the Eels for three whole weeks? Me! Sorry, Boyd. I do love Cage the Elephant. Band suggestions still needed, guys!

Speaking of which, check out this page about stereotyping people according to their favorite indie bands. I've had a lot of fun with this--especially because some of my brother's favorite indie folk bands were on here and none of them were too complimentary. But check it out. My favorite one is for Vampire Weekend.

My problem with commenting on blogs has gotten even worse. BELIEVE ME--I have tried to comment on ALL of your blogs, but for some reason it just doesn't work. It works on a select few of them, but I have no idea why it works on some and works on others. I am so sorry, because I read all of your blogs still and I want to post a snide comment that will leave you slightly offended but I just can't! I think I have a virus.

(Sigh.) I knew my obsession with internet porn would do me in eventually.

I'm probably not going to stop blogging today or tomorrow--I don't even know if I'm going to stop blogging at all. I'm just thinking out loud here, guys. This may be nothing. Maybe I've just been listening to the Dead too much and now I feel like making unnecessary, serious changes in my life. I don't know. Stay tuned. May the Force be with you.

Movie Quote of the Day: "Did you like my squid?" -Jerry, Sphere

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Warning! This Post Was Inspired by the Third-to-Last Freaks and Geeks Episode

It is currently 11:18 in the PM. I just finished Episode 16 of the old 90's TV show Freaks and Geeks which tragically got cancelled after the eighteenth episode, which I still have yet to watch. (So I swear: if any of you spoil it, I will slit your throats and drink your blood! Fuck off!)

I will say that it was a really happy episode. And because I'm such a huge sucker for happy endings, the result is usually that I write a late night post on The Nerd Archives. Usually I delete it, but sometimes not early enough, and some people see it. And they never come back.

I wish I had a person in my life who I could write letters to. Nobody wants to write letters. It's just not a thing anymore. I wish it was. I really wish it was. I think I've only written one serious, long, not-a-thank-you-note letter in all my life. And it's so satisfying. You know what's not satisfying? Trying to write a meaningful e-mail. That doesn't make sense. A meaningful e-mail? That's an oxymoron. Like jumbo shrimp or Al Gore.

I still write e-mails to my best friend, because I don't think he'd be up to writing letters and because we go to different schools and don't see each other often that's the only way we can really talk. Other e-mails I get are forwarded messages about the world ending or people from Saudi Arabia asking for money. Which of course I have to accept. They're writing in all-caps!

I used to have sort of what you could call "meaningful" e-mail exchanges with this one girl I knew from way back when. (God, I sound like such a prick saying "meaningful e-mails." I'll stop now. Really.) I could really connect with her. There was just something about her that made me want to take a picture of the moon, print it, eat it, and then call it performance art. She was amazing.

But I fucked it up. I fucked it up with her. It could never have worked anyway, because she moved, as all girls tend to do when I tell them that I think they have pretty faces and say I think we should get married. But at least I could have made the most of it, instead of being the weird little wimp I was back then. I'm not going to go into it, because I'm probably going to start crying and breathing real fast, but just know that she was like the most amazing girl in the world, and that I fucked it up.

I'm fed up with being me. I wish I was the type of guy who could just seize life by the tits and have my way with it. But I'm not, really. I'm a writer. I'm a vampire. I'm a nerd. I'm the type of guy who thinks about taking chances, doesn't, and then blogs about how much he wishes he took chances.

I really miss elementary school. I was an annoying-ass little brat, but everything was so simple. Classes were easy, I had the best friends in the world who I could talk to about anything, I had just discovered the Beatles, and we had recess. And I probably talked to girls more than I do now. It's sad, I know. But I probably talked to more girls in elementary school than I do now. Granted, they were also third graders and we were playing duck-duck-goose in music class--a tactic I rarely use nowadays. But at least I talked to them. Girls are just guys with vaginas, make-up, and long hair--why am I so afraid of them? Ah, if only I was eleven-years-old again. I had game.

Yeah, I wish I had someone to write letters to. But who could I write? If it was a stranger, what if it's a serial killer who might track me down and cut off my penis? I don't want that to happen. I like my penis. And I like to think that it likes me. We're good together. But I always could write a stranger. Like in Mary and Max.

It's almost midnight. I think I am going to ask out that girl. Maybe not tomorrow, or even the day after that, but when the time is right. I'm not just going to stuff my hands in my pockets, tell her good night, drive home, and then bang my head against the Jennifer's Body poster in my room like I usually do. I'm going to kiss her. Then I'm going to go home, look at myself in the mirror, and think to myself, "I'd do that guy."

I think I better end this post. I'm making a fool out of myself. I don't think I'm going to do a movie quote today. Instead, watch the entire Freaks and Geeks series up to Episode 16. Then we can watch the last two together. You'll thank me.

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

You Know What's Hot? Politics!

This isn't going to be a post about politics, though. Ha, I got you all worked up into a lather! Look at you guys, all lathery! I hate politics. Politicians are a load of oversized babies who stayed inside and talked to their moms all the time when they were kids while all of the other kids were outside playing baseball or chase and now they're taking it out on society. Wanna get something done? Hire Batman. Perhaps you've heard of him. He's a superhero.

Well, I have today and tomorrow off for Fall Break. I know a lot of you may be scoffing like "What!?!?!? Fall Break? We don't get Fall Break!" But I go to private school, my children, private school. You know what they do to us at private school? They put us each in a dark, cold prison cell all by ourselves, and they starve us and torture us until we get smart. Sometimes it works, but many times it doesn't. Those times it does work, you get doctors, lawyers, and businessmen. Those times it doesn't work, you get homeless people, serial killers, and meth-addicted performance artists.

So we deserve our breaks. I've been on an insane schedule. Here's what I do. I wake up at 3 in the morning, take half an hour to get ready, drive four hours to my school over in Alabama, go to school for nine hours, drive four hours back home, work on homework for just under six hours, and then I go to be usually around 2:55 in the morning. You read that right. I get five minutes of sleep every night. Yeah, I think I deserve a little four-day weekend, don't you think?

We were trying to drive down to the beach for three days, but about two weeks ago my dad got pneumonia. He had to stay in the hospital for about a week. We visited him every day, and he was pretty sick. The saddest part was watching him try to eat applesauce. I wish I was joking, but I'm serious. I turned away--I just couldn't watch. He took this week off of work. And we didn't want to leave him at home while we were at the beach. (Well, we did actually. But he protested. He whined a lot. It was embarrassing to witness.)

So we're not going to the beach. Which makes me sad, because I LOVE going to the beach. Not the beach itself. The ocean. I'm not one of those insufferable white-ass yuppies who has a lake house and a beach house and flies to Charleston every other weekend. I just haven't been to the beach in two years, and I feel so at peace when I'm near the ocean. It talks to me, you know. Whispers things. Dirty things. It tells me I'm its little slut. And I have to do what it says and like it. I don't like it, mama! I don't like it!

Yeah, so we decided to just stay home. Which is cool. I can have some time to myself. "Christopher time." Which means a lot of masturbation and top-secret viewing of romantic comedies. Perhaps both at the same time. Edit: most likely both at the same time.

I got my flu shot today at about 8:30 in the morning. The nurse stabbed me with the needle and I was like "Mm...that's some good heroine." And her eyes widened and she was like "This isn't heroine. You're getting a flu shot!" And I said, "What a strange day I'm having!" And we had a good laugh. Then she was all finished and so I dropped my pants.

And she said hurriedly, "Oh, no, you don't have to do that. This is just a flu shot, so you're already done. No check-up necessary." And I just rolled my eyes and laughed and said, "Get on yo kneeeees, bitch."

Also, I've started reading the Harry Potter series again. By now some of you are probably thinking either that's kind of weird or that I'm doing it for nostalgic reasons. Actually, the first one is true. I've read the Harry Potter series numerous times in my life. In fact, more times than I'm willing to admit. And Harry Potter swoops in to save me when I'm in peril. I'm in peril right now. As many of you know, high school sucks vagina. I need Harry Potter now more than ever.

I was one of those kids who stayed up late on his eleventh birthday waiting for the acceptance letter from Hogwarts to be delivered via owl post. When that didn't happen, I went kind of emo. I listened to death metal, dyed my hair black, got my nipples pierced, stole, set things on fire, and played violent video games from dawn until dusk. Needless to say, I was a pretty messed up fourth grader.

But the Harry Potter books have always been a sanctuary for me. Hogwarts is a place for me to go to when I just can't stand being such a scrawny-ass nerd boy anymore. My parents say I'm obsessed--just because of that one time when I tried to carve a lightning bolt scar into my forehead with a kitchen knife, but they just don't understand. I am Harry Potter. And Harry Potter is me. We are one. And I don't want to take anymore medicine. I don't like the medicine.

On a side note, I've hit a dry spot with bands. Any band suggestions? I've tried to turn to indie rock once again to rescue me from this music-less abyss, but there are so many BAD indie bands out there. It's hard to find good ones. If you have anything to suggest, whether it be a classical composer, a 60's band, or an indie rock band, please do. Hopefully something kind of chill.

Last Monday I was walking to Math, going over equations in my mind in preparation for the test, when my old English teacher--who's about in her late sixties--from freshman year walked up behind me. She said, "Hello, Mr. Kennedy." I said, "Oh, hi! How are you?" She said good, and we walked for a while in silence. Then she took a deep breath and said, "Christopher, they don't want me to tell you this, but I'm your mother." And I was like wow this is amazing it's my long-lost mother! So we hugged, crying and laughing in each other's arms.

Then big men in bulletproof vests came and pulled her away from me. She just kept laughing and shrieking, "Mama's little boy! Give mama some sugar!" And I waved goodbye and cried. I hope I get to see her again soon. I miss my mama.

Movie Quote of the Day: "We're here to fuck shit up!" -Dale Doback, Stepbrothers

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Yet Another List of Things I Strongly Dislike

1. People who talk in Spanglish. Spanglish is for gringos and bitches who are trying to show off their embarrassingly limited knowledge of Spanish by incorporating phrases like "Me gusta" and "Hasta la vista" into normal English sentences. If any of you ever talk in Spanglish, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!! Shoo! Shoo! You disgusting vermin.

2. People at school dances who try to encourage the wallflowers to dance. If we're hanging out by the punch bowl or even just looking a little lonely, mind your own fucking business and keep to yourself. They think they're the goddamn Savior coming to rescue us from the fiery pits of Tartarus. They think they're the goddamn stars of fucking High School Musical. What if I don't want to dance? Can you get that into your thick fucking skull! And what's more--don't fucking touch me.

3. Justin Bieber. That sonufabitch needs to get off his high horse and realize he's not Jesus Christ. I'm not one of those people who's like "I think Justin Bieber should be skinned, drowned, and then have his insides roasted over a fire." But he does kind of annoy me. Did you know he applied to my school last year? Yeah, there are some juniors at my school who played football with him while he was touring our school and they said he was a prick. I don't think he should be tortured and then killed, but I wish he'd get rid of that look in his eyes like, "I am so amazing."

4. That guy who called me a "bubble butt" in middle school.

5. People who make incest jokes addressed to me and my triplet siblings. No, that really happens. I'm not even joking. And it's the most awkward, gross thing ever. You wouldn't believe how many incest jokes we get. And it's been happening probably since I was like eleven-years-old. Mostly kids, but some adults too. Last year, this creepy guy at our church found our sister's jacket and asked us if we would bring it to her. We said, "Yeah, we'll give it to her." He chuckled and said, "Watch out. It sounds like you're about to gang-bang your sister." I'm not even joking. He said that. I couldn't look her in the eye for days. People ask us ALL the time, "What's the worst part about being a triplet?" One day I'm just going to give in and tell them, "The incest jokes."

6. Rodney Dangerfield. I just don't understand the appeal. Yeah yeah yeah, he don't get no respect. I get the fucking point. Now why don't you shut your mouth and go ruin some other Bill Murray movie.

7. People who are good at everything. Do you know anyone like that? For instance, the Vice President of the Senior Class last year was not only the Vice President, he was also an excellent student, a Thespian, a member of the tennis team, and editor of the school's literary magazine. AND he was openly gay. I mean, how is that even allowed? You hate them, but you can't tell anyone that because they're nice and likable. Makes me sick to my stomach.

8. Dubstep. It is such a big, fucking joke. I'm sorry to those of you who like dubstep, because I know that to some people it's like the best thing since color television, but I do not see what the big deal is. No. Not only that. It's hilarious. It is just SO bad. If the Beatles were Jesus, Dubstep would be the Antichrist.

9. Homophobes. I wish I could put all of THEM in a cage.

10. I strongly dislike Tracy Morgan. He really gets under my skin. One minute I'm laughing my ass off at 30 Rock, then I'm on my hands and knees looking for it, and THEN I'm screaming bloody hell at the television because Tracy Morgan just came on.

11. Girls who say "OMG I just LOVE Regina Spektor" even though they've only heard the songs Fidelity and The Call. Yeah, you know who you are. Confess your sins and maybe God will forgive you--or else you will face eternal damnation in hell.

12. Vanessa Bayer. She's the newest girl on the SNL cast. I just don't think she's funny. She's the opposite of funny, in fact. I thought the SNL skit El Shrinko was like the funniest thing ever, but then she came on and I punched a hole in the wall.

13. Patriotic people.

14. Californians who don't keep their promises.

15. How big my nose is.

16. Amps that are so loud you can't hear the actual music. Also, as a bonus: the fact that the Music Midtown Festival was yesterday and I REALLY wanted to go because Cage the Elephant, the Black Keys, and Coldplay were ALL there but the tickets were like $100. So I'm sad. But also: really loud amps.

17. Annoying little shits named Davis who follow me around everywhere, try to pants me, and ask me if I watch porn. Actually, his name is Davis. I changed it because I don't want to be charged with libel. Is that what libel is? I'm not sure. But yeah, there is this really annoying kid who does all of those things in my Youth Group. He's in middle school. God, I hate middle schoolers. They're like fruitflies.

18. Black censor bars. ALTHOUGH, on second thought, have you seen that College Humor video Censor Bar Art? I'm too lazy to link to it, but it's really cool. And hot. Mostly cool, though. And mostly hot.

19. Ke$ha. She needs to shake her ass a little more and open her mouth a little less. Sorry, was that sexist? I didn't intend it that way. That wasn't a slur against women in general--just her. Because she has a hot ass, but she's not a good singer. I'm really not sexist. Really, I'm not. I'm $exist!!!

20. My fucking headaches.

21. Last one. Twenty one. The big 2-1. Let me think. Um...I think...maybe...oh! I know! Public school kids who are racist against private school kids. As a private schooler, I resent that. I can sympathize, because if I myself was a public schooler (which I probably could never be), I would probably want to beat the shit out of me too. But hey, cool it a little bit, would you? It's not our fault we're walking rape-targets who have everything served to us on a silver platter. Wait, yes it is. Sorry.

On a much much much much much much much much much much much much happier note, I think I've finally found the girl of my dreams! Don't worry, she's not like the last sixteen girls of my dreams. Not at all. This one is AMAZING. She goes to my Church, she's two years older than me but much shorter, she's Dutch, she listens to Gogol Bordello and the Beastie Boys, she has amazing blue eyes and the softest blonde hair you've ever tasted, she has this cool younger brother who is coincidentally also Dutch, she's hilarious, she's into hippie stuff, and she has awesome feet.

I'm thinking about asking her out. It sucks, though, about living in Atlanta, because everyone I know lives at least a thirty minutes drive away. And she lives like an hour away. So I don't know how that would work. But she is just so amazing. This is going to sound really corny, but I don't care because it's really true: I feel fantastic when I'm around her. I get into this great mood. When she hugged me today, I didn't let go. I just held on. Even when she beat my back and started screaming for help, I didn't let go. She makes me feel so special.

Also, most importantly, she told me that my sunglasses and my long-sleeve worked really well together fashion-wise. I bristled with pride. I'll post a picture because in addition to my sexy sunglasses and my beautiful ears, I want you to see that the shirt I'm wearing because OMG it's the same shirt that this random guy is wearing from the video of Ben Folds covering "Sleazy." Awesome shirt. But yeah, I got it from Target. The guy comes in at 52 seconds in case anyone of you actually want to go see it.



Do you guys get pissed that really the only photos I post are either of my cats or me making weird faces in the dark? I hardly ever get to take pictures because I'm literally the only one in my family who does not have a camera. Sorry about that. So yeah, that was my last one. Pinky swear.

I hope this blog post finds you well. I'm not wearing a shirt right now. Just thought I'd let you know.

Speaking of which, you may have noticed that I didn't post the second half of yesterday's post. I may do it later, I may not. That's just how I am. One day I might write an editorial on my view of gun rights. The next day I post a video of myself dancing naked to a dubstep song. Yeah, I know, dubstep. I was surprised too.

Have you guys seen Bugsy Malone? I've become obsessed with it. I also watched a series on YouTube called "After They Were Famous" about what happened to all of the stars after they were done with the movie. And it was SO fascinating and funny and happy. It was probably the highlight of the week. Yeah, I already know that's sad. Don't bother telling me.

ALSO. If you're reading this and you're Julia from I Wish I Were British, I just thought I'd let you know that the reason I haven't commented on your blog for a while is because blogger isn't letting me. It's really weird. But it may be for the best, because I was going to post a kinda creepy comment on your newest post. Rave outfit? Hotness! But yeah, the same applies for some of you other guys too. Blogger is such a scrotum.

Movie Quote of the Day: "I like you temporarily!" -Dog, Up

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Saturday, September 24, 2011

So You Wanna Be a Boxer, Part 1 of 2 (The Devil Is In the Air)

Shawsin, Massachusetts was a nice little village full of God-fearing Puritans, and all in all it was a perfectly decent place to live. Everyone went to Church, everyone did their fair share of work, and there was usually enough food to go around. Sure, there were some disagreements over land, and the work was certainly hard, but it was a pretty honest, nice little town. That is, until the winter of 1689.

The Parker family gathered around their daughter, Bessie, who was lying motionless in bed, white as a ghost. She, a girl of eleven years, had been unresponsive for the past several days, and the Parkers were very distressed. She had not talked, sat up, or even opened her eyes in three days.

Goody Parker rapped sharply on Bessie's forehead, saying, "Knock knock? Bessie? You in there?"

Mr. Parker put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Knocking on her forehead can't help her now. I'm afraid it's too late for that."

Allison, Bessie's seventeen-year-old cousin who was known for bending the truth, turned toward her uncle. "What do ya mean, Uncle?"

Mr. Parker turned sharply toward her. "You know very well what I mean, Allison! I saw you and your cousin in the woods! I saw what you were doing!" he bellowed, causing his wife and two sons to shrink away from him in fear.

"We were only eating grapefruit, Uncle," she whimpered.

"GRAPEFRUIT!!!" he roared. "The forbidden fruit!"

Allison burst into tears.

"We just wanted a taste," she sobbed.

"A taste indeed," he said, turning back to his daughter. "You two were conjuring up spirits--that I know for certain. Why else would Bessie faint upon seeing me?"

"She didn't faint, Uncle. You jumped from the trees wearing a cape and a crown made of thorns and beat her with a stick until she fell unconscious," Allison reminded him.

"The devil was in her!!!" Mr. Parker shouted, banging his fist against the bedpost.

Before Allison could respond, however, a tall, dark man entering the room, wearing a long cloak with a lowered hood that cast a shadow over his long, gaunt face.

"Someone called a vampire zombie hunter?" he growled almost inaudibly. "Reverend Dale at your service."

Shocked, everyone in the room turned to look at Mr. Parker. He blushed slightly and frowned. "We're running out of options here," he said.

"If I may ask, Mr. Parker, what makes you suspect your daughter and niece of zombie vampirism?" Dale inquired solemnly.

"I found them eating grapefruit in the woods, Reverend," he replied.

Dale's eyes widened. "You permit your daughters to eat grapefruit?" he asked in amazement.

"IT IS NOT PERMITTED," Parker answered indignantly. "It is strictly prohibited!"

Dale paused. "Are there any other reasons for your suspicions, Mr. Parker?"

Mr. Parker looked uneasy. "I, uh, well, several weeks ago I caught my daughter Bessie flying."

The rest of the Parker family looked much more surprised than Reverend Dale, who retained his composure as he said calmly, "Flying, Mr. Parker?"

Mr. Parker nodded quickly. "Yes yes, flying. She just jumped out the window one night and flew away into the darkness. I haven't mentioned it until now because I was worried she would suck my blood or cast a spell on me or the like."

The family was silent. Reverend Dale nodded. "Anything else? Please do not hold anything back, Mr. Parker."

Mr. Parker paused and then added, "Last week I caught her eating a brain up in her bedroom. I don't know where she got it. I was too afraid to ask her. But she was definitely eating a brain."

Bessie sat up in her bed. "I was NOT eating a brain!" she cried indignantly. The whole family gasped. Goody Parker rushed forward to embrace her daughter.

Mr. Parker blushed and said hurriedly, "Of course a vampire zombie would say that."

Reverend Dale observed Bessie for a moment, peered at the rest of the family as well, and said, "I've made my decision. I am certain that both Bessie and Allison are vampire zombies, and they need to be executed immediately before the rest of the town is contaminated."

All of the children froze. Goody Parker, Allison, and Bessie burst into tears. The boys rushes forward to hug their father. Mr. Parker, who usually never permitted his children to touch him, didn't move or say anything. He stared at Reverend Dale.

"Surely there is some other way..." he said weakly.

"There is no other way. They must be tortured, hanged, and burned. But first, they must be deflowered by an ordained minister."

"Deflowered by an ordained minister?" said Mr. Parker suspiciously.

Reverend Dale narrowed his eyes. "There will be no further questions."

TO BE CONTINUED

Movie Quote of the Day: "Yeah, well, that may be. But at least I never slept with Lumbergh." -Peter Gibbons, Office Space

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Friday, September 23, 2011

Aaaaaaaah Nicolai Is Back and He's Hungry for Brains!!!!

I know you guys are sick and tired of The Blogging Survey Named Nicolai. For some reason, none of you were as amused by it as I was. I will tell you that I have a lot of seriously fantastic blog posts in the making, but I have to let them ferment so it might take a while. IN THE MEAN TIME, I thought I might MYSELF answer the Blogging Survey Named Nicolai. For those of you who just can't bring yourselves to read that, here's a hilarious picture of the Cookie Monster. If you make it that far, you can pat yourself on the back and then go home. Thanks for reading.



1) Please state your name for the record?

To my friends, I'm Chris. To my family, I'm Topher. To my enemies, I'm Puke Face. To my cats, I'm Meow. But to me, I am and will always be Lord Awesome Dude. Which is my name. So yeah, you can call me that from now on.

2) If you were a penguin, on the other hand, what do you think your name would be? Hypothetically speaking, of course.

Reginald.

3) Would you consider your ears to be smaller than average, average, larger than average, or freakishly large?

Freakishly large. Kids at school used to call me mean names like Dumbo and Eeyore. Stuff like that. When I went to sleep, my brother and sister would hide a number of small objects in my cavernously large ears just to prove that they could. I had to wake up every morning and pull out everything they had hidden there, crying softly from humiliation and shame. It was something I don't think I'll ever recover from.

4) Are you more of a Beatles or an Elvis fan? (If you answer the latter, please proceed to go set yourself on fire and then die in a hole.)

You know what Elvis was? He was a big, fat, racist greaseball. What? He's so amazing because he can shakes his hips a little? I don't think so. Why was everyone so amazed by his "look?" Sunglasses? Yeah, big deal--he had overly-sensitived retinas. And the hair? I'm not even sure that all of that was his hair. I'm thinking he just had a bizarrely shaped head. Sideburns? Big deal. You know who had sideburns WAY before Elvis was around? Wolverine.

5) Have you ever killed anyone? If so, did you do it with your bare hands?

I killed a man. With THIS thumb. ;)

(If only a winking emoticon could be the proper way to cite a quotation. Instead of all of that bibliography and parenthetical documentation shit, just do this: ;). And maybe an LOL for good measure.)

6) If you could use any fruit to describe the size and shape of your head, what fruit would you use?

Potato.

Wha? You got somethin to say?

7) Is there any famous person you'd go gay for? Please state their name. This question is, of course, purely for academic purposes.

Rick Perry.

8) If you had the choice, would you rather go to space, meet Paul McCartney, scuba dive in the Pacific Ocean, or sleep with Carmen Electra?

First I would definitely go to space. Then I would go scuba diving. Then, probably, meet Paul McCartney. Surprisingly, Carmen Electra would probably be last. I mean, I don't know where that thing has been.

9) How long have you had your blog? What made you start one?

This blog was started in January of 2010. The voices told me to do it.

10) What is your weirdest phobia?

I'm actually afraid of sleep. You better believe it. It was a lot worse when I was little, though, so I have gotten better. But the idea of not being conscious--not being able to think--is more terrifying than anything I could ever imagine. For me, sleep gives me a taste of nonexistence.

Also, I have pretty fucked up dreams sometimes. I don't want to share them, because you could probably have me committed. Really. Although I will tell you that the most notable of them involves elements such as Zachary Levi, fluffy pink handcuffs, and peanut butter.

11) Do you believe in God?

The question is: you do God in believe?

12) If you could start a collab. blog with any four bloggers, which ones would you do it with?

Now I see why you guys were uncomfortable answering this question. I don't really know. Anyone I would form a blogging team with would have to be able to be able to stand my overwhelming weirdness, would have to listen to good music, and would have to have seen Fight Club. With those qualifications in mind, I would probably go with Jennelle, Gabi, Boyd, and RainboRevolver. Sorry, guys. Father Christopher has selected you for his flock. May God have mercy on your souls.

If you were trapped on a desert island with the same four bloggers you mentioned in the last question, which one would you eat first? With which one would you procreate?

I would eat Boyd because in my experience bass guitarists usually taste delicious. (That's what she said.) Then I would probably just procreate with myself (implying masturbation), but I'd make the rest of them watch.

Was that too much? Felt like too much. Why'd I write this question?

14) What's your favourite 80's movie?

Better Off Dead.

15) What kind of music do you listen to?

Ha ha ha HA. Bitch. Don't even. Don't even.

16) Imagine that you open your bedroom closet one day and suddenly a portal opens up. You can't see what is at the end of the portal, but there is a totoro inside it motioning you to follow him. Would you go inside, even if it might mean you'll never come back?

I was actually really interested to hear all of your answers to this question, and I found ALL of them to be PROFOUNDLY DISAPPOINTING. I thought long and hard about it, and I think that I would.

17) If you're a woman, do you find facial hair on men attractive? If you're a man, do you find facial hair on woman attractive?

Yes. Yes I do.

18) Do you like babies?

Only the sound of them crying.

19) What's the most violent thing you've ever done to an inanimate object?

Any of you who read this blog last Easter when I talked about what I did to my sister's cell phone will know the answer to this question. Yeah, I deleted that post. I don't want those photographs to be used against me when I run for President in twenty years.

20) What's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?

So many embarrassing things have happened to me in my life. My life is an embarrassment. Amazingly, it's probably not the story I told in the post below. It's probably not when I told that girl she had beautiful eyes and then had to stand there for two minutes like a total prick while she talked to that other guy. It's probably not when my whole homeroom class sang Happy Birthday to me in middle school and I turned really red and then someone shouted out "Look how red he's turning" and I turned even more red. It's probably not when I accidentally called my Pre-K teacher "Mom." It's probably not when in middle school I left a message on a girl's phone telling her I liked her but then when I saw her the next week, I was too embarrassed to even mention it. It's probably not when in Youth Group a few years ago, I said that the famous prophet of the Muslim religion was not "Muhammad" but "Muhammad Ali." It's probably not even when I went to my first birthday party in the city of Atlanta in first grade and watch the other kids give the birthday boy footballs, basketballs, and video games only to--par my mother's suggestion--give him a Max Steel action figure. I don't know what it is. It's all of these things. And none of them.

21) Do you think the world will end in 2012?

Not if Barrack Obama can help it.

22) Have you enjoyed this survey? Be honest, now.

Not really. Sorry I made you go through with this guys. I'm gonna go eat some paint chips and watch Doctor Who.

23) Are you following The Nerd Archives? If not, DO YOURSELF THE FAVOUR OF DOING SO NOW!!!!

Yeah yeah yeah buddy. Why don't you calm down and use your inside voice. You're a sixth grader. You've got to start acting like one.

On a side note, is it more important to you guys that I respond to your comments or that I blog more frequently. You can only choose one, because one has to represent the red pill and one has to represent the blue pill. Not really though. I just want to know if it's even worth it responding to your comments because I don't know whether or not you even read my responses.

Movie Quote of the Day: "I love my dead gay son!" -Father, Heathers

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Great "That's What She Said" Moments I Noticed This Week

"Wow, it's much harder than I thought it would be."

"I dare you to touch it."

"Stick it to me."

"Hold it by the shaft."

"If I coated it with chocolate icing, would you lick it off?"

"I'm really hard right now."

"I get off by watching YouTube videos of giraffes mating."

"Why is all of this white sticky stuff coming out of my penis?"

"Stroke it a little bit and maybe it will get hard."

"No it's not infected! Why did you say that? What makes you say that?"

"Is it legal to do it like that?"

"Would you mind wearing this bag on your head before we do it?"

"This juice tastes delicious! What's in it? Do I detect cranberry? Pomegranate?"

"Mm...it's so nice and warm in here!"

"What are those? What did you put in there? Are those...teeth? RRRRAAGGGHHHHH!!!!!"



Anyway, I hope you enjoyed those. Sorry about my lack of posting. I'll try to post againt tomorrow and Sunday. I haven't had a great last week. I contemplated suicide. But then I thought that would probably look terrible on my college apps.

So yeah, I was in a bad mood for probably about a solid 120 hours. But then I found this song from the movie Bugsy Malone: "You Give a Little Love." It's where that Coke commercial comes from! The one where the Grand Theft Auto guy buys a Coke and then he's nice to everyone. Anyway, I listened to the song and then I was happy again. If you're going to say something mean, don't bother saying anything at all.

Did you know Jodie Foster was in that movie when she was like nine? Yeah, I think that's really weird. You can see her in that clip, although her face is covered in pie. Jodie Foster is really hot. Not in that movie, of course. I'm not a pedophile. But now she is. And did you know she's a lesbian? I just discovered that about nineteen seconds ago. I never knew that. But yeah, now she's even hotter.

Movie Quote of the Day: "Do you like fried chicken?" -Billy Kramer, Kramer vs Kramer

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Thoughts and Meditations and Little Wisdoms Brought to You by a Person Directly Descended from the Buddha

Yeah, that's right! I have a new video! Watch it. Enjoy it. Lap it up like little starving puppies. Eat! Eat! Eat!

Sorry there's no music. I can't do it from my computer because for some reason Windows Live Movie Maker isn't letting me add any music besides those fucking awful sample pieces that remind me of elevators and old people. And I couldn't add it on YouTube because AudioSwap is being a bitch, surprise surprise.













It was really awkward. We were having this Youth Group kick-off sort of thing at this kid's house. Everyone was just messing around: playing basketball, riding around in a little Barbie jeep, and eating little pigs in a blanket. He had a tire swing in the backyard, and I wanted to show off my inhuman upper arm strength by climbing the rope all the way up to the branch that it was tied to.

There was a rope coming down from either side of the branch, though, so every time I pulled down on one, the other one just went higher up. I asked one of the girls nearby to hold onto one of the ropes while I climbed up the other one. I had already insisted that I could climb the rope--I couldn't just back down.

So we both stood on top of the tire swing and she grabbed onto one rope while I grabbed onto the other and hoisted myself up. After I got up several feet, though, my foot got caught in a coil, so I was stuck. And, to my embarrassment, my man parts were pressed right up against her breasts. It was all I could do to hang there and look ahead as it happened. Yeah, I got hard.

She said, "What...what is that?" I didn't even answer. But after a few moments of that, she said, "I have to go." I said, "No! You can't go! I'll fall!" She sighed and held onto the rope. I wiggled my foot for a while to try to get it free, (which did NOT help my situation), and it was about fifteen seconds before I could get it loose. As soon as I came crashing down, she walked away pretty quickly. I had to walk around on my hands and knees for a while so no one could see. And when people asked me why I was doing that, I just said, "I'm pretending to be a cat. See? It's fun." It wasn't to hard to convince them. That's the kind of thing I do all the time.

Did I tell you my dad met the mayor? I'm not even joking. I'll tell you more about that later.

Movie Quote of the Day: "F YOU, mother-effer!" -Phil Foster, Date Night

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Friday, September 16, 2011

I Feel Like Cocaine Right Now

RRRRRRAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGWWWWJJJJJJRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That was a roar of triumph. That was triumph you were hearing.

I just feel amazing at the moment. I don't know what it is. Well, yeah, I do know what it is. But it makes it much more mystical and special to say "I don't know what it is." It feels like I just took a gulp of Felix Filicis. It feels like I just finished my book. It feels like I'm swimming in the sunset. It feels like I'm the Mona Lisa. It feels like I'm August Rush. It feels like I speak French fluently. It feels like mint truffles. I feel like I'm the song "The Way It Was Before" by Jack Conte. It feels amazing.

It's autumn! No, this isn't just about autumn. It also resulted from a lot of drugs I'm currently under the influence of. No! Just kidding! Ha! But it's true that autumn can really almost turn me into a different person. When I feel the first breathe of autumn run its fingers over my face, it feels like I'm breathing for the first time in ages. It feels like I've never breathed before. Which is, of course, ridiculous, because--as a human being--oxygen is vital for all of my biological processes. But OH MY GOD I just feel great. Wow.

When am I going to get to the point and say why I feel so great? I don't know. Probably never. I'm probably just going to sit here and talk about how great I feel until I don't feel great anymore. Probably not, though. Hopefully not. I'm just putting it off because I don't know what I'm going to say. I don't know why I feel great. What do I have to feel great about?

Maybe that's it. Maybe there's nothing I feel great about. Isn't it enough to just feel great? I think it's just great to be human. Why do I have to be such a fucking penis all of the time always complaining about how pathetic I am and how unhappy I am? I'm ALIVE. And that's great. I think that's a reason to feel great.

But let's see. We've already established that it is autumn, which is DEFINITELY a reason to be happy. I'm like a superhero in autumn. Except I can't fly and I still technically need glasses and I have weird nipples. What do weird nipples have to do with superheroes? I don't know. I just thought I ought to tell you sooner rather than later. But yes, it is awesome. We had perfect weather today, even though it was gray and forecast. At lunch, a handful of my friends and I went to the courtyard by the English building and just sat on the cold, wet ground. People were walking by us and giving us weird looks, but we didn't give a shit. We didn't even give half a shit. We didn't give one MILLIONTH of a shit.

I played basketball in my front yard for the first time in several weeks or so. I just don't have time to play basketball anymore. Isn't that sad? I barely have time to read, because of all of the DAMN homework my fucking teacher vampires give us. But today I played basketball! And it felt great! I felt limber. You know that scene from Fight Club where Helena Bonham Carter was flopping around on top of Brad Pitt and the lighting and the music is all bizarre? Really, all I could pay attention to in that scene was how nice and flexible they looked. Here was one of the most amazing sex scenes in cinema history--here were Helena Bonham Carter's heavenly Bert and Ernie's staring at me straight in the face--and all I could think was, "Wow! Look how limber they are!" Well, I feel like that. Even though I'm not limber. Even though I can't touch my toes. I just feel like I could do a flip. I won't, though, because I'd probably die. And that's the most surefire way to ruin a good mood.

I just got up and peed. Yeah, you read that right. Don't worry, I went to the bathroom first. I should have mentioned that. I went to the bathroom. And in the bathroom, I peed. God, I love peeing. It's probably one of my favorite things in the world. You'll understand if you've read It's Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini. Not the movie. The book. Two totally different things. Very different. But yes, peeing. I love it. I hope I never get a urinary tract infection, because that would probably ruin it for me.

Was that inappropriate? I feel like it was. I feel like I just crossed a line. Do you agree? Yes? Well, guess what, bitch? This is MY blog. This is The Nerd Archives. There are no lines. I can talk about peeing all I want if it floats my penis. Oh, did I see penis? I meant my boat. Which is a euphemism I frequently use for my penis, so I guess it doesn't matter either way. I feel like I'm crossing a line again. I don't really care, though. Would you guys believe me if I told you I wasn't high or ANYTHING? Because I'm guessing what I've written so far sounds a lot like what a person would sound like who has never been high before and has just gotten high. Well, they probably couldn't write. Well, maybe they could. I don't know. I've never been high!

Let's see, what else? I ran on the eliptical just a few hours ago and watched the movie V for Vendetta. Amazing movie. Probably my favorite movie in the past several months or so. You need to go see it. It certainly opened my eyes. It combined with AP US History has made me realize that The United States of America was found by terrorists! That's right! The Sons of Liberty! They were terrorists! They killed people. They hurt people. Sometimes innocent civilians. Ah, well, I can't talk about this anymore. It's hard to talk about politics when you're in a good mood. I guess that explains why politicans are such bitter, lonely people. They're never in a good mood, so they never tire of arguing about politics. But anyway. V for Vendetta. Watch it. Now.

I FINALLY got down and talked to that girl I've been dreading seeing since the end of last year. Yes, still that same girl who I can't get over. I was just leaving the library, which was practically empty. I was walking and then there she was, sitting at a table, doing her homework. We stared at each other for a moment. Then, without even realizing what I was doing, I just smiled. And I waved. And she smiled back and mouthed "Hello."

That's not what got me in this good mood, though. It's not like that has unwritten every awkward thing which has ever passed between us, (meaning from me to her). I still have to talk to her at some point. And then I'm probably going to blush a lot and make an even bigger fool of myself. She's still relatively popular and gorgeous, and I'm still a nobody and not gorgeous. And I barely know her, yet I told her she has beautiful eyes. I mean, I don't know how else to get to know her. And that's why I can't just let go of her yet. With every other girl I've ever gotten this worked up over, I've had at least some relative success is sort of getting to know her. But not this one. She won't talk to me. Not because she's mean, but because she's just sort of quiet. It's so frustrating, but at the same time it makes me just more obsessed with her. It's like falling in love with a painting.

Also, I'm happy because I made these:





I just found this weird little thing on the ground that looked like a little hat, so I stuck it on my pinky finger and showed all of my friends. They thought I was crazy, and went to go get the teacher. But I thought they were pretty cool. That doesn't mean I'm not crazy, though. I think that I probably am crazy. For instance, just about an hour ago I was flossing and my mouth started bleeding. I thought it looked pretty cool, so I rubbed the blood all over my teeth. Then I looked REALLY bad-ass. So I took a picture.



Yeah, I'm pretty fucked up. You guys know that I'm weird. But you don't know that I'm crazy. Which I am. At least, I like to think so. I'm glad my parents don't read my blog, because they could probably have me committed for posting that picture. I can't believe I just did that. You guys probably think I'm SO insane and gross right now. And don't care, though. Becaue I am in a great mood.

I wrote another story today. It's about an overweight bird named Vincent. But then I felt bad because those I while I was driving home I saw one of those fucking awful child obesity billboard advertisements and I felt really guilty for writing a story making fun of fat people. Well, fat birds. But I still think I might post it because I have no soul. Would you guys like that? Do you guys like my stories?

I think I better do everyone a favor and end this post. I hope I don't lose any followers. I need you guys. So bad. Writing on my blogs is how I get by. As you can see.

Movie Quote of the Day: "Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of every day routine- the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, thereby those important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, a celebration of a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night I sought to end that silence. Last night I destroyed the Old Bailey, to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words, they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot. " -V, V for Vendetta

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Knock Knock. Who's There? IT'S DA PO PO!!!!

Today something very disturbing and perplexing happened to me. It was sometime around 9 o'clock, and I was chatting with a friend of mine in the hallway. He asked me how I was, I said I was just fine, and then I asked him how he was. Before he could answer, though, his eyes went big and he clutched his throat. He was shaking violently, and his face was turning blue. I thought he was choking, but then he began to shrink.

He shrunk smaller and smaller as I watched in horror, and soon feathers began to sprout all over his body. His face, legs, and arms morphed and twisted, and finally he was only about a foot high.

I looked down in shock as I stared at the chicken that was now standing before me. It clucked and stared at me with those little black eyes, and I started to freak out and hyperventilate. What was I supposed to do? Call 911? They would just laugh at me. So I scooped up the chicken into my arms and ran off to go tell a teacher.

When I finally did find a teacher alone in a classroom in the Science Building, I ran in with the chicken in my arms screaming, "Help! Help!"

The teacher looked at me calmly and said, "What's the problem?"

I said, "I didn't know what to do! I was just talking to him and he turned into a chicken before my eyes. It wasn't my fault!"

The teacher was not at all troubled. He didn't even look at me. Instead, he looked straight at the chicken in my arms and said, "Greetings, my Lord. Do you have the stones?"

I looked down in surprise at the chicken. Amazingly, it nodded.

I gasped and let it drop from my hands. It flapped its wings and landed softly on the ground. The teacher gave a solemn bow and said, "Excellent. Shall we begin?"

In response, the chicken walked forward toward the teacher and opened its beak. Out came a small, smooth stone with little squiggly lines on it. He dropped it into the teacher's hands. The teacher said, "Water." Three more stones came out of the chicken's mouth, and the teacher said, "Earth, Wind, and Fire."

He cupped them into his hands and raised them to his face, saying, "These are the four elements: Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water. They are very powerful, but only when combined with the fifth element can they fulfill our purposes for them."

Now I was intrigued. "What is the fifth element?" I asked interestedly.

The chicken and the teacher exchanged glances. The teacher smiled.

"Don't you know, Christopher?" he said. "The fifth element is YOU."

I was shocked, but I also realized that a part of me had known it all along. I also somehow knew that we had very little time. After a moment of silence, I nodded and said, "Let's begin."

As I stood in the center of the classroom, the teacher set the four stones in a circle around me. After he had finished, he and the chicken stood side by side and bowed their heads, and the teacher began to chant in a very ancient language that I did not recognize. Then, each of the stones began to glow. I looked down and realized that I was glowing too. Then a beam of light shot between each of the stones and connected them, and a beam of light connected me to each of the stones as well.

The teacher's chanting reached a climax, there was a flash of light, and then everything was back to normal. Normal, except there was now a fourth person joining us in the room. I stared at him in awe.

"Jesus?" I asked.

He nodded.

TO BE CONTINUED

Movie Quote of the Day: "I'm thinkin' of tryin' out for a scholarship." -Bender, The Breakfast Club

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Part 3 of an Interview with Congresswoman Michele Bachmann

Interviewer: Hello and good morning. We're here today with Congresswoman Michele Bachmann joining us for the third time to discuss her 2012 campaign for presidency. Congresswoman, thank you for agreeing to talk with us again.

Bachmann: Glad to be here.

Interviewer: I just want to pick up where we left off in our last interview. You were discussing your opposition to gay marriage and your feelings towards gays and lesbians. You called the opposition to same-sex marriage a defining debate in this country and of your campaign. I just wanted to quote part of your speech from 2006--prior to your campaign for presidency--on the subject of same-sex marriage. I quote here, "Gays and lesbians are warriors of Satan, and they need to be annihilated. Only then can this great nation be free once again." Do you still stand by that now?

Bachmann: I am running for President of the United States. I am not running to be anyone's judge. I do stand very strongly on this subject, but--

Interviewer: Some would say that you have judged them.

Bachmann: I do not judge them. I am running for President of the United States.

Interviewer: So what would be the view of President Bachmann on same-sex marriage?

Bachmann: Well, you know, I believe that God intended marriage to be between a man and a woman. If you look back in the Bible, there was Adam and Eve. It wasn't Adam and Adam. If it was Adam and Adam, it would be chaos. God would say "Adam!" and they would never know who he was talking to. Plus, they'd be too busy sexing up in the place to do anything God told them.

Interviewer: What do you think gay Americans will think when they hear you say this?

Bachmann: Well, I stand very strongly on this matter, but I ascribe honor and dignity to every person. I am not here to be anyone's judge.

Interviewer: Congresswoman, I'm going to quote you again, this time from a speech you made while running for the Senate seat back in 2000. You said, "Gays and lesbians are savage, bloodthirsty devil-worshippers who arrived here from outer space to prey on our children and infiltrate our society." Don't you think that this statement might be considered a judgement passed on gays and lesbians?

Bachmann: I am not here to be anyone's judge. I am running for President of the United States.

Interviewer: I know. You've said that. But many might say that you are passing judgements on gays and lesbians in America.

Bachmann: I am willing to ascribe honor and dignity to anyone who is willing to accept it.

Interviewer: Anyone who is willing to accept it? Would you elaborate on that?

Bachmann: Well, you know, last week I was at the supermarket shopping for some tangerines and fruit loops when I myself came across a homosexual. I greeted him warmly and asked how he was doing, and before I knew what was happening, he was rubbing his testicles all over me and licking my face. Clearly he was attempting to have sex with me. This would be an example of how I attempt to give honor and dignity to gays and lesbians, and how they deny it.

Interviewer: Congresswoman, keeping in mind that you do not judge the homosexuals of America and that you, in your words, ascribe honor and dignity to all of them, would you possibly choose a gay or lesbian as a member your cabinet if elected President?

Bachmann: No I would not. I think that the only place that gays belong are in cages, left there to rot with rats feasting on their flesh until there's nothing left but bone.

Interviewer: Congresswoman, do you think that people out there will hear that and think that you are not passing judgements?

Bachmann: I am not here to judge. I am running for President of the United States. And I think that homosexuals are sub-humans who can only benefit our country by letting us burn them for energy to feul our automobiles and charge our iPhones.

Interviewer: Okay, now I'd like to bring up one of your campaigns earlier this year shortly after you decided to run for President. The aim of that campaign was, according to its official website, "to torch and devour the bodies of any and all children adopted by gay couples in America." What do you have to say about that?

Bachmann: Well, you know, I'm not here to pass judgements. But there are a lot of babies out there that need to be torched, and we better get started or else we'll never make any progress.

Interviewer: Some would call that campaign offensive. Would you personally, Senator Bachmann, really set a baby on fire?

Bachmann: I don't want to answer anymore questions about that specific campaign earlier this year. I just think that the past is the past, and we should focus on the future and the present and all of the other good stuff that Jesus has planned for us.

Interviewer: Okay. Still on the topic of gay marriage, what would you do about gay marriage in your presidency if elected to presidency of the United States?

Bachmann: Well, that's a loaded question. I don't consider gay marriage to be constitutional, so primarily I would set out to ban gay marriage in all 65 states. Furthermore, I think that as President of the United States, it would be my duty to extinguish this growing homosexual revolution in our nation. There are a lot of important political figures out there, such as Congressman Barney Frank and Sir Elton John, who serve as ringleaders for this sick charade that is the growing revolution of LGBT in America. And I think that if we remove them from the picture, then the gay population will just be wandering around like lost lambs. You see, if you take away their leaders, they are reduced to shreds.

Interviewer: What are you suggesting that you plan to do to these "ringleaders" of the gay population?

Bachmann: I am suggesting that we torture them, kill them, and then parade around their heads as trophies for all to see.

Interviewer: Is that your official stance, Congresswoman?

Bachmann: It is. I'm not here to judge. I'm running for President of the United States.

Interviewer: How else would you plan to extinguish what you call the "homosexual revolution" in America? What measures would you take?

Bachmann: Well, personally, I think that they should have death by electric chair. But others suggest that they should only serve a life sentence in prision. This is the kind of think that I think Democrats and Republicans should be willing to compromise about. Because without compromise--without moderation--we will get nowhere.

Interviewer: So am I correct in saying that your plan, essentially, is to stamp out all homosexuals, bisexuals, and transsexuals in the United States of America?

Bachmann: To answer your question, what I really want to focus on if I am elected to the presidency is connecting with the gays and lesbians on a personal level. Those who have come to participate in this disgusting cult that is the gay community are prisoners. They are slaves to the lifestyle they have been brutally forced to adopt. And it is our job to show compassion to them.

Interviewer: Oh, now this is pleasantly surprising.

Bachmann: Yes, I think that we should reach out to them, befriend them, show them the error of their ways, and then--when they are least expecting it--kill them.

Interviewer: What was that?

Bachmann: We need to show them the error of their ways.

Interviewer: No. After that?

Bachmann: I don't understand the question.

Interviewer: Congresswoman, you have said a multitude of times that the only way to deal with the debate about gay marriage in the United States is to slaughter the gay populatation. How do you think this will affect your campaign for presidency?

Bachmann: I don't want to discuss this anymore. I honestly think that the debate of gay marriage isn't something the American people really care about.

Interviewer: You yourself said that it was a defining issue of your campaign. Is this no longer the case?

Bachmann: I changed my mind. I want to go home.

Interviewer: Well, Congresswoman, thank you for joining us today.

Bachmann: Be here to glad. I mean...you know what I mean.

Movie Quote of the Day: "Coffey. Like the drink. Except spelled different." -John Coffey, The Green Mile

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Friday, September 9, 2011

MOTHERFUCKER GUESS WHO JUST SAW THE BEACH BOYS LIVE AT COBB ENERGY CENTER FOR THEIR 50TH ANNIVERARY?!?

I'll give you a hint. His name rhymes with "Mistufah," he has a weird lemon fetish, and he's seen the movie Sixteen Candles more times than he can count on all three of his hands. Okay I can't take it anymore it's me I saw the Beach Boys live last night and they were AMAZING!


That's Mike Love in the front, second from the left, and there's half of Brue Johnston on the keyboard all the way to the right. The other five were a fantastic back-up band who were all Beach Boy clones.

I wasn't expecting much because only Bruce Johnston and Mike Love were going to be there and hell what are they seventy, eighty years old? I expected to at least one of them to have a senior moment up on stage. I thought that halfway through the concert Mike was going to start flipping out and yelling at the audience, "Who are you people? What am I doing here? Get me the hell out of here!" And someone would have to come onto the stage and say, "Calm down, Mike. These nice people are here to see you perform with the Beach Boys, remember? See? There's Bruce! You know him. How about you be a good sport and give all these people a good show." And he'd frown and say, "Well, awright, but don't let any of them try to grab me. I don't like it when people grab at me."

On the contrary, they were not only amazingly coherent, but they were almost as impressive as they were half a century ago when they began. They even sang falsetto pretty well, although when they did their voices had sort of an eerie boyishness that probably stuck after decades of belting out songs like California Girls and Wouldn't It Be Nice over and over again. They sang just fantastically, really. And all of the members of the back-up band, who each took a turn doing lead vocals, sounded EXACTLY like the Beach Boys. The drummer, especially, was great.

I went with my family, because my dad got the tickets, and at first I was selfishly worried that people would think we were lame because my parents brought ear plugs and opera glasses. (I wish I was joking. I really do.) But then I realized that we were seeing the Beach Boys and that probably my siblings and I would be the only ones there under the age of 40.

And I was pretty much right, although I did spot one toddler and a handful of teens about my age. I said before the concert that I hoped there would be a lot of old people there, because then the concert would be much more tame. Old people neutralize young people like acids and bases. But I didn't know that EVERYBODY would be old. We were surrounded by a sea of sixty to eighty year olds. Looking down from the balcony, all you could see was gray hair. It was great. I love old people so much.


Some of them were the confused kind of old people. This guy standing up during intermission, for instance, clearly has no idea that the show isn't even going on right now.

It was so touching and happy to see all of the old people reunited with their favorite band of their youth. It was like they were lifelong friends, saying "We've had an amazing journey together, and what's more is that it's not over yet." And the old people actually had a lot of energy. Most of them certainly had MUCH better moves than I did. I wonder if that's what Lady Gaga and Beyonce concerts are going to be like forty years from now.

Want to know the best part of the entire concert? Mike and Bruce were HILARIOUS. They eased the tension that everyone in the crowd was feeling right away by cracking jokes about how old they were. I don't remember any of them except for one Mike told while he was introducing the song "I'm So Young." He was talking about how R&B back in the old times, and how different it is now. He said, "This kind of song was what got us interested in music, but R&B now is very different from what it used to be. Sorry, Snoop Dogg." Then they played a few measures from a Snoop Dogg song, which was really hilarious. And then Mike added, "And how about this new gangsta rap? If I wore my pants as low as some of those gangster rappers, I'd have some pretty cold places."

Oh! And at the very beginning of the show, when they had just played two songs, they said, "Well, folks, it's great to be in Atlanta, GA. Thanks so much for having us. Now we're going to take a short intermission followed by a nap."

They weren't just funny, either. They had all the moves. Mike Love dedicated one song to all of the ladies in the crowd, and Bruce kept giving little spins at the keyboard. And their voices were just fantastic. Fantastic.



Beware, this part of the post is about to get more corny than I think I've ever allowed myself to be on The Nerd Archives. Hold on to your diapers, babies. This might be a bumpy ride.

There were these two girls in the row in front of us, a little bit to the right, who were both just beyond beautiful. And it's not just that they were physically attractive. There was just something about them. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever met someone like that?

First of all, they were teenage girls from the 21st century, but they were going to a Beach Boys concert. Then, not only were they attending the concert, but they were dancing wildly, smiling as they did so, even when everyone around them was sitting down. Also, they were amazing dancers. And on top of all of that, both of them were incredibly attractive in their own ways. They were really gorgeous, but in a subtler way then all of the other teenage girls these days. They had a genuine, warm beauty rather than looking like they were made of plastic. They had the most beautiful, dark eyes, this amazing silky brown hair, and smiles that would literally melt the heart of the evil lion from The Lion King. I don't remember his name but I remember he had that scary scar going down his face. GodDAMMIT those girls were amazing.

I don't believe in love at first sight. I don't really think love is that simple. But still, I do think that sometimes you can just tell so much about a person, just by looking in their eyes, or seeing the way they smile, or just hearing their voice.

And just seeing these girls, hearing them sing, watching them dance, was more than I could ever possibly ask for. Just by glimpsing them, I also got a glimpse of what my entire life might possibly be like if I bring myself to talk to them. If I brought myself to tell them that I think they're beautiful. And then I thought that I will talk to them. But I knew that I won't. But really, it was enough to just glimpse it. To glimpse love in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes I wish I was that guy who walks up to girls he's never seen before and tells them they're beautiful. And I think I have the potential to be that guy, because I have done that before. But at the end of the day I'm just a nerd. And I don't mind so much. Because, mofo, I JUST SAW THE BEACH BOYS LIVE!!!

On a totally different note, do you ever find yourself in a situation where your privates really itch but you can't scratch them because people will think you're masturbating? That actually happens to me a lot, and I get a lot of funny looks for it. (That's actually partly because sometimes I am masturbating.)

That happened to me during the concert. After a while I couldn't stand it and I just HAD to scratch. And all of the old people in the row behind me were like, "Wow. That young feller is REALLY getting into the music."

I'm not going to post tomorrow out of respect for 9/11, and I won't be able to post the next few days because I'm going to be really busy. So don't be expecting a post for another five or six years. Thanks, guys.

Movie Quote of the Day: (Sees Lane wave from the back of a garbage truck.) "Now that's a real shame when folks be throwin' away a perfectly good white boy like that. " -Tree Trimmer to fellow Tree Trimmer, Better Off Dead

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

What I Consider to Be a Creepy Video I Made Because I Didn't Want to Do My English Paper

Viewers beware. You're in for a scare. Not really, though.


video

What'd you think? Scary? Yeah, I didn't think so either. I just wanted to put off writing my paper for English which is due on Friday, so this is what I did instead. I might even put it on YouTube. Who knows?

Side note: I went to this community service thing today where I served food to children from broken homes. Yeah, it was great and everything. But I really don't like kids. I'm sorry. It's just an unchangeable fact of life. On the other hand, the one thing I really do like about kids is how they never cease to surprise me at the most unexpected times.

Take for instance last week. I was babysitting my neighbors' kid, who's five-years-old. We were watching an old episode of that show Hey Arnold! to pass the time, and he was explaining it to me.

"I don't get it," I said. "If Helga has such a huge crush on Arnold, why does she keep calling him a football head?"

"I don't know, man." he said, shrugging. "Bitches be crazy."

At first I was a little shocked that he said this, but then I was like--well, you know, that's just kids for you. They're just full of weird little surprises like that.

I know I wrote this post just a day after the last one, so if any of you care to scroll down to the post below this one, there's a short story about a mouse named Franz who happens to be a racist. Also, there's a picture of my penis.

Movie Quote of the Day: "If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits eighty-eight miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit." -Dr. Emmett Brown, Back to the Future

Cheers,
That Blond Guy

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Another Short Story But Don't Worry--There's Also a Picture of My Penis

Franz was a mouse who did not like chipmunks. He couldn't remember when or how he started disliking chipmunks, but he knew that it had been for quite a while. He hated everything about them. They were smelly, sneaky, and good for nothing. He hadn't met a single chipmunk that he liked, so he concluded that all of them were unlikable.

One day he was at a tea party with a badger, a squirrel, and a beaver. They were laughing and sipping on their tea and eating cakes. Franz, who had been quiet for much of the party, spoke up.
"Hey, you know who I hate?" Franz chirped. "Chipmunks! Who needs 'em? They're a bunch of lousy bums. They should go back to wherever it is they came from!"

Everyone stopped laughing, and the smile slowly died from Franz's lips also as the rest of the animals stared at him in shock. He began to sweat. After several long moments, the badger spoke.

"I have a number of very honorable friends who are chipmunks," said the badger solemnly. The squirrel and the beaver nodded in agreeement.

Franz turned his eyes to the ground and took a furious sip from his teacup.

"It's very interesting that you think that, Badger," Franz said coldly, his lips pressed tightly together.

The following week, Franz had lunch with one of his neighbors, a songbird. As the songbird took a little bite from her pimento cheese sandwich, Franz said through a mouthful of tuna, "Hey, you know, I really hate chipmunks, badgers, squirrels, and beavers. They're all ugly and stupid. They can go eat some sour berries." Franz chuckled.

The songbird chirped disapprovingly. "That's not nice. I know a lot of perfectly decent chipmunks, badgers, squirrels, and beavers! I think you're making unfair generalizations," she said.

Franz blushed, embarrassed that this was happening to him again. He crossed his arms and just said "You think so, huh?"

The next day, while playing a game of cards with a cricket, Franz loudly interrupted one of the cricket's stories about his mother, who was currently in the hospital with a very serious and untreatable disease.

"You know who really gets on my nerves?" he practically shouted. "Chipmunks, badgers, squirrels, beavers, and songbirds. Especially songbirds! Gee, they're the worst."

The cricket put down his cards and frowned. "I don't think you should say that. It's mean, and it's not at all true," he said.

Franz said, "Oh, I apologize." Then he added under his breath, "You disgusting insect."

This pattern continued, and the number of animals which Franz did not find agreeable grew and grew and grew. Soon, there were too many to remember, so he started keeping a list. Every day, he would post the newest list on the biggest oak tree in the forest for all of the animals to see. No one really paid attention to it, but soon it began to get on their nerves.

"I'm sick and tired of that mouse Franz and his ridiculous list," said one frustrated toad. "How can he just say these things about us?" The other animals agreed.

No one wanted to see Franz anymore, so he rarely left his house. The only times he did leave were to post the new list on the oak tree. He would put on a long, dark cloak with a lowered hood so that no one could see his face. He left his home late at night, clutching the list tightly to his chest. He scowled at anyone who crossed his path, marvelling that such filth was permitted to walk to the streets. He hammered the list to the tree every few nights, muttering to himself and hammering as noisily as possible to compensate for the emptiness he felt inside him.

After several years of doing this, Franz began to run out of creatures to add onto his list. He added "Snowy Owl" onto his list one night, but it had been weeks since he added the one before that. As he nailed on the new list, he was surprised by a voice behind him.

"Are you the one who's been posting these lists?"

Franz turned around to find a zebra towering over him. Franz put his little paws on his hips and gave what in his mind was an intimidating look but what most would consider to be just adorable. "Yeah. What's it to you?" he said.

"Oh, I just think it's great," said the zebra. "There's a lot of trash in this forest, and it's nice to know that someone is here to sort it all out. Why, just yesterday I saw a squirrel and a skunk walking hand in hand by the creek, clearly in cahoots. No shame. It was disgusting. And I'm glad you put porcupines on the list too. Those things walking disasters. I want to take a fistful of those quills and shove them down their pie holes."

Franz was delighted and surprised. "I know! And don't you hate rabbits, too? You gotta watch those guys or they'll steal something and you won't even notice. They're sneaky."

"Yes! And salamanders? They're like worms with legs!" the zebra added excitedly. Franz smiled at him, and he knew then that they would make very good friends.

For the days following that first encounter, Franz and the zebra spent a lot of time together. Sometimes they had tea or played cards, but much of the time they just sat by the big oak tree and watched the passerby, whispering comments to each other about each animal that walked by them.

"Hey, you see that black bear? You know what bears need? They need side mirrors to see around those big fat hips," Franz would say.

"Ha ha, yeah," the zebra would reply. "Ooh, digusting, it's an opossum! I heard they eat their young. Ugly creatures."

The animals who passed by them would give them strange looks, increasing their pace and casting worried glances at Franz and the zebra as they passed. Sometimes Franz could hear some of their whispers.

"Oh, look at that Franz sitting up there looking at us like he's King of the World. He doesn't have a clue, does he?"

"Well, that's it. Franz is finally going senile. He's lost it."

"Look, there's Franz. Do you think we should say hello? No, you're right. I forgot we're on his list."

Franz knew they were making fun of him and the zebra, and he could only hope that the zebra couldn't hear them whispering too. The zebra was his only friend anymore, and he couldn't bear to lose him. They were united by their shared dislike of the other animals.

They started spending more and more time together. Sometimes they would paint slurs over the doorways at the home of perhaps a fox or a duck. Sometimes they would sneak up to sleeping deer and tie their hooves together, so that they couldn't get up. But their favourite thing to do was stealing eggs from cardinal nests and dropping them from the trees.

Finally, one day at a town meeting, the issue of Franz and the zebra's shenanigans was brought to the attention of the animal assembly. Franz and the zebra had gone for kicks. They thought it was a such a huge joke that the town mayor was a turkey. (They knew what swine turkeys were. Franz brought it to the attention of the zebra that turkeys carry diseases.) It came as a surprise, then, when Franz was called to the stand. He stared at the zebra in surprise, pulled his hood over his face, and walked before the assembly.

The turkey banged his gavel and said, "Franz Mouse, it has been brought to the attention of the assembly that you have been committing a number of hate crimes against the community. We have no interest in punishing you, we only wish to see that the problem does not persist."

"That's all very fascinating, Mr. Thanksgiving Dinner," Franz hissed, glancing sideways to make sure the zebra heard his clever joke. "But the only reason we are doing these things is because all of you are abhorrable, disgusting creatures who need to be stamped out and annhilated. And it is our job to remind you of that. That is all I have to say."

The turkey cocked his head sideways. "Who is this 'we' you keep referring to, Franz? As far as I know, you are the only one in this town who has been committing these crimes."

Franz looked confused. "Why, the zebra and I, of course."

The assembly was silent for a moment. All of the animals were exchanging glances with each other. The turkey massaged his temples and set down his gavel.

"What?" Franz asked. "What is it?"

"Franz," the turkey explained slowly. "What zebra are you talking about? There are no zebras in the forest. You know that. Zebras live in Africa. I think you must be imagining things."

As understanding came to Franz, he shook his head and looked back at the zebra. The zebra had never been real. He had been a figment of Franz's imagination. A part of him had known it all along, but it still came as a shock. He called out to the zebra.

"You're not real?" Franz demanded, tears gathering in his eyes.

The zebra shrugged.

Franz was silent for a moment. Then the tears began to run down his face. The assembly stared at him in embarrassment, everyone afraid to say anything. Even the turkey was left speechless. But then Franz stood up, slowly and deliberately, and walked over to the oak tree where the list was posted. He took out a pen, stared for a moment, and then wrote the word "Zebras" on the list, no longer caring about the stares of the other animals on his back.

Suddenly the zebra was at his side.

"Hey!" the zebra said indignantly. "Why'd you write that on the list?"

"Because you're not real," Franz said, wiping another tear from his eyes.

"So?" the zebra said. "Neither are you."

Franz paused, looked back at the silent crowd of animals staring back at him. For that moment, all was silent. Then he turned back to the list, picked up his pen, and wrote the word "Mice" on the list.

At that moment, Franz disappeared. He was simply there for a moment, and gone the next. The animals all thought he had disappeared into thin air, but when they looked closer they saw a small pile of little, glowing white stones lying in a circle at the foot of the tree.

The animals stared. Then they stared some more. And then they stared some more. And before long, someone started laughing. Then everybody was laughing. They laughed and laughed and laughed and put their arms around each others' shoulders. And they walked off toward the sunset.

That little circle of stones is still there. No one really knows how they got there, but all they know is that life is full of little surprises we'll never really understand. Franz Mouse was one of those surprises, to say the least.

I don't know where Franz is now, or what happened to him, but I like to think that he's staring at the same sunset that I am, on this warm summer evening. And I like to think that wherever he is, he's happy.

Movie Quote of the Day: "Welton Academy, hello. Yes he is, just a moment. Mr. Nolan, it's for you. It's God. He says we should have girls at Welton." -Dalton, Dead Poets Society

Cheers,
That Blond Guy