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

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

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

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

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

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

A Moderately Relaxing Video

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is all.

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

A: Make it happen.

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

And now she's dead.

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

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

Pregnant and married.

That makes five lies.

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

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

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

Let me tell you something else:

I would like a cell phone, please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay tuned!!!

Check-Up or 7-Up? You Tell Me

ALERT: THIS POST PROVIDES YOU WITH ENTIRELY TOO MUCH INFORMATION. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Visiting the doctor, to me, has never been a good experience. 1) I'm disappointed because none of the doctors look like Dr. House at all. Instead most of them look like Oprah. 2) I wait too long every time. I don't mind waiting in the actual waiting room because they're usually playing Baby Einsteins or Clifford on the miniature television, but I don't like waiting in the doctor's office. 3) The concept of personal privacy is totally crushed in the doctors' fist and tossed onto the floor like a headless rag doll.

My issues with going to the doctor might just have rooted from one of my visits in second grade. I was such an innocent and bright child--just like one of the child stars from "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" except just a little more dim-witted and a little less cute. The nurse, (who I might mention was nearly obese,) asked me to step on the scale. What did I weigh? I don't remember. But whatever it was, she just had to make the remark, "Ooh, you're getting a little tubby there, ain't ya?"

That was when I punched her.

Actually, I didn't punch her. I wish I did. Instead, I sobbed hysterically right then and there. Her only comfort was "Clothes weigh a little bit too." I was not tubby! I have never been tubby. I was born a fit baby, like a tiny Arnold Schwarzenegger with a slightly less detectable Austrian accent. I still think that nurse was just feeling insecure about her new haircut, and she had to take it out on me.

And then there's the blood pressure test. That has always been a nightmare for me, not because my blood pressure is any different from average, but because until a few years ago, I always tried flexing my muscle for the first ten seconds so that my arm didn't look too fleshy.

But this is all baby stuff, all entirely painless when compared to

THE HOSPITAL GOWN.

I hope that everyone here is nodding in agreement. Is the doctor who created the hospital gown not either totally perverted or entirely under-qualified as a fashion designer?

The doctors totally deceive you. The doctor enters the room, shakes hands with you and talks very professionally to you and all of a sudden you feel like a very mature adult. That impression is shattered the next moment when she says "Now your Mom and I are going to leave the room for a minute and I want you to take all of your clothes off except for your underwear, and put this hospital gown on. Knock twice if you need any help."

Totally humiliating. If I had a stylish hat to wear with the hospital gown, then we could talk. If I had a stylish had and a nice pair of shoes to wear with the hospital gown, I'd be wearing it to school every day. But in this case, it's just embarrassing.

If the process of changing into this radical new fashion of gowns isn't embarrassing enough, the examination is unbearable. Of course I won't go over the details with you, but is anyone else totally creeped out that while the doctor is examining you, half-naked, there's a nurse just standing there, looking at you? And what's the most awkward of all is when they try to make conversation! It's like a bad comedy. Maybe the likes of American Pie or Sex Drive.

Arguably the most aggravating things that doctors do during your yearly "check-up" is when you have to travel down the halls in clothes that should belong to only the New Years Baby. Meanwhile, other patients are also walking the halls in hospital gowns and is it me, or are all of them either toddlers, siblings, or acne-ridden teenage guys? Never a cheerleader in a hospital gown. Never.

I think the humiliation that we undergo at check-ups is definitely justified by the lolly pop they give me at the end, (disregarding the fact that I'm usually taller than they are). But sometimes, my friends, it just seems so long until I get that lolly pop.

This post has been both remarkably on-topic and frustratingly over-informative.

Thanks for reading.

The Nerd Archives 2: Revenge of the Obsessive Blog Author

You know one of my favorite things about being a nerd? My friends and I actually talk about interesting things. In order to be considered a member of most popular groups in middle and high school, you have to possess a certain level of masculine stupidity. You're not allowed to be too funny, too intelligent, or too interesting. However, the nerds--despite our numerous unlikable features--are almost always interesting. We always have something to say, partly because we spend a good deal of morning rehearsing what we're going to say today in front of the mirror.

But back to what I was talking about--we always talk about kind of interesting stuff. (I emphasize the phrase "kind of." We're still teenage guys, mind you.) I won't go into the details of what inspired this discussion or even I would lose respect for myself, but keep this in mind. Nerds are far more interesting to talk to.

And because this is a nerd blog, how about I tell you about one of my favorite nerd shows? Great idea, huh?

CHUCK

Chuck doesn't really sound like a nerd name, does it? More like the name of the gas station guy in a small town who breathes too much through his mouth. Or a tomboy from a 70's novella who wears her hair short and looks like a boy but ends up kissing Timothy Cook at the end of Chapter 36. Or an awkward clerk at a Best Buy type store on NBC.

I've seen all of the third season so far, and I'm watching everything before that from the beginning while I run on the treadmill. I have very little to complain about Chuck, but I do have that to complain: a little. My complaint is as follows: why did they settle the romantic tensions on only the third season of the show? Psych has kept it going for five seasons!

What romantic plot twists are they going to take now? There's nothing left for them to do with that! All the Chuck episodes are titled as "Chuck Versus the _________." They're going to have to start titling them "Chuck Versus the STDs" and "Chuck Versus the Low Sperm Count." Now Psych and Secret Life of the American Teenager are all I have to keep me going! Do I sound even remotely desperate to you?

I'm going to mention this and then let it drop as if nothing was ever said about it: I was hugged today by a near stranger at school. Awkward, but kind of funny when you know when to stop. It wasn't funny, because it WENT ON FOR THREE MINUTES!!! I felt so violated.

Totally switching gears, who wants updates on the back-of-the-milk-carton girl today? I have none. I have half a mind to call someone who goes to her school to see if she's still alive.

Totally switching gears again, (gee--I'm running out of gears), I have a request from you all today:

Honk once if you love Jesus. Honk twice if you love The Nerd Archives.

You know, I've kind of gotten the feeling that The Nerd Archives is like an epic poem. Ooh, I like it. Misunderstood but extraordinarly handsome blond...um...fella...who battles for the freedom of the socially awkward and meanwhile battles his own emotions about the love of his life who is whisked off to another state she's scared of that fella. And the fella's nose is just a little too big...And he talks funny...And he doesn't turn out to be all that attractive after all...And maybe she didn't ever like him to begin with...And...And...

You know what? I don't like the sound of this epic poem. Let's do something else. Just keep up with the blog, got it?

Bye, guys!

A Missing Girlfriend and Sex Change Surgery

I just wanted to open with a bang. First of all, I think I'll ease all of your tensions and just say that it's not me getting a sex change. Breathe out.

Before anything else, I have a thought for you to muse over today. Actually, it's a list.

Things That People Say in the English Language That Don't Make Any Sense:

1. "I could care less." If they're trying to sound like they don't care, then shouldn't they say that they couldn't care less?

2. "It goes without saying." People say this phrase and always end up saying it! Whatever "it" is!

3. "I don't give a shit." Last week, I heard somebody say "My dad doesn't give a shit about me." In contrast, could his friend say, "Oh. My parents do give a shit about me"?

4. "Screw that." How?

5. "Knock yourself out." No!

Actually, that's all I can think of off of the top of my head. Wait! That's another one!

6. "That's all I can think of off the top of my head." People don't think at the tops of their heads! They think at the center! In their brains.

Well, that's all I can think of at the moment. But the English language has a lot of strange expressions. And unnamed dialects. For instance, teenagers have switched around the words "like" and "love." They say "I love your shoes" and "I love that class!" When they're talking about having a crush on someone, they say "I like you." "I think I'm falling in like with you."

Onto the headlines! "Girlfriend Goes Missing." "Christopher's Friend Gets a Sex Change." "James Has a Great Birthday."

Did I just make that reference?

My girlfriend has gone missing. No word from her in a week. I know what everyone is thinking. "A week. This guy is a creep." Sure, I'm a creep, but a week is still a long time! That's like six months in stalker years! But last week we had this adorable date set up at PF Changs. The day before, I call her and it turns out she's at this "camp." (Don't ask me. I guess it's a pre-summer summer camp.) First thing she says is "mind if I put you on speaker phone?" I'm then interrogated by what must have been forty six teenage girls who are very angry at me. I have no idea what any of them are saying and eventually hang up. The next day, she cancels. The next week, no word from her. There is some dark ju-ju going on here.

She better call me soon or I'm proposing again to Lara.

Before I leave the topic of Ms. Westmoreland, I might mention something else. She's moving!!!!!!!!! To Conneticut. I think I scared her off. But gee, she doesn't have to move halfway across the country. They're called restraining orders. And believe me, once someone gets a restraining order, I back off.

And I believe I mentioned that my other sweetheart is moving away too? California. Gee, what is wrong with me? Why not just go ahead and move to China? That would be the very safest! I've concluded that this particular woman doesn't really like me that way, so that was never going anywhere. I hope some of you are crossing your fingers for me. Actually-don't really. They might get stuck.

I guess all of this moving away is best for all of us, though. I'm a very tentative secret admirer. After the first eleven years of knowing a girl, I'll finally summon the courage to say "I think you're pretty." Twenty years before I say "Would you like to go to the movies with me?" Sixty years to propose.

And speaking of moving away, that brings me to the last topic of our discussion today. Although I am reluctant.

About a month ago, friend from my school e-mails me at about eleven at night saying that he needs to tell me something important. It can't be over the phone, and he refuses to even say anything in the e-mail. Instead he includes a bunch of links to ultra-safe and encoded personal documents containing the real message. There are three documents.

The first one provides me with a link to the national transsexual assosciation website and a link to a 60 question quiz to determine whether or not you're a transsexual.

The second document explains everything. He took the quiz and was determined as a definite transsexual. His Mom strongly suggested that he trust the association's word on the matter and she gives him one of two options: 1) Have the sex-change surgery and take the hormone pills that will help turn him into a woman. 2) Surgically have a year of his memory erased so that he doesn't mentally consider himself a transsexual.

The third document: he invites me to the movies. But that's not important right now.

He's moving halfway across the country to get the surgery.

How does one react to this?

To my credit, I think I've reacted well. More updates later.

Keep reading, you guys.

You know I love you all.

I Like Your Nose

I'm sure you all missed me so much. Actaully, I haven't heard so much so far from all of my numerous fans. When I made this blog, I foolishly expected to hear an outcry from the online nerd population worldwide. Either this blog isn't as engaging as my big head pictures it to be, or there aren't many out-of-the-closet nerds in the world out there.

First of all, I'd like to tell you that I got a YouTube account. Snaps for Christopher. Now applaud. Now do a little dance like the big beefy football players do after a touchdown. So far I've only figured out the concepts necessary to make the most basic of videos. Here it is--check it out:

Youtube, A Documentary

Kind of sad, isn't it? Anyways...

The second link I have to share with you is a bit more shameful. The thing is, males will forever have an immature side to us. Even the Starbucks and Blackberry intellectuals have an immature side. This video sparks the immature side of me:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fqq051BU2MY

I know. I know. Sick, isn't it? But, when used sparingly, immature humor is hilarious. Now entire TV shows dedicated to immature humor are over the line. If Family Guy isn't disgusting enough, South Park is ridiculous. Not if. South Park is ridiculous.

Oh! On different news, remember that 13-year-old kid I told you about two posts ago? I made a break-through with him!!! We were playing soccer. He walks up to me and says, "I wish you weren't on my team, you fag. You're such a fail." (That's strange, as I recall he was the one who picked me to be on his team.)

I was very straight-forward. I said, "Why do you hate me?"

He gives me this look of utter disgust and says in a voice dripping with hate, "Because you're a goody goody."

Oh, okay.

Now I know why he hates me.

It's because I'm a goody goody.

So that's settled.

Totally switching gears, who here watches Saturday Night Live? To be honest, SNL kind of switches back and forth from totally hilarious to absolutely stupid. But when it has its good moments, boy, does it have its good moments. I was watching the Tina Fey and Justin Bieber special with a bunch of friends, and I couldn't stop laughing. My favorite skits:

http://www.hulu.com/watch/141545/saturday-night-live-sarah-palin-network

and

http://www.hulu.com/watch/141556/saturday-night-live-teacher

If I had the ability to feel emotion, I would hate Justin Bieber.

On that cheerful note, I bid you an abrupt farewell and good night.

My Act for the High School Talent Show

Actually, I just found out last week that there is no high school talent show next year. What a disappointment. Now this act is kind of like the comedic version of The Unborn. It never got the chance to really live so now it keeps coming after you.

Well, here it is. I'll have you know first that I want the MC's to announce me as "Christopher Kennedy, who has had a passion for opera ever since he saw Carmen at the age of 12. He says that through his baritone vocals he channels emotions that have been stored inside him since he was just a little fetus. Today he'll be singing an excerpt from The Magic Flute."

I'll walk somberly onto the stage and step in front of the microphone. Maybe take a sip from a tall glass of ice water they put at the center of the stage. Open my mouth to sing and then...my act.

"Nah, I’m just joking. Raise your hand if you really thought I was about to sing opera just now. Come on. Raise your hand. You gooses.

One thing I couldn’t help mentioning right now: doesn’t it seem strange that people choose to clap after performances like these? Isn’t the idea of applause kind of weird? I don’t understand the thought process. It’s like, “Wow, I’m so happy right now, I think I’ll bang two body parts against each other over and over again in celebration.” Okay, enough critique.

On a different note, I’m delighted to be here today. Actually I’m a bit nervous too. Also a little hungry. Ooh! And my pinky kind of hurts. Back to the talent show. I knew I was destined to stand on this stage from the moment they announced the talent show on the intercom. Not unlike how the stars of High School Musical were destined to perform for socially awkward teens across the nation. I felt called to the spotlight, but I just didn’t know what to do when I got there. After eliminating interpretive dancing, whistling with Saltines in my mouth, and opera, I chose this: motivational comedyism.

It’s a blend of two messed up concepts. Motivational speaking is when a sickeningly enthusiastic guy in his 20’s comes to the school assembly to talk to you about friendship. And then there’s stand-up comedy. Stand-up comedy is when an over-confident funny guy stands on the stage, holding the microphone stand like he’s about to dance the salsa with it, and tells jokes that are either good or bad. Now put them together. Motivational comedyism.

Oh, but I came prepared for my act tonight. I watched at least two dozen YouTube videos of professional comedians who tell jokes like they breathe, (which is, through their mouths). Two hours I sat in front of the computer with zero bathroom breaks and feeding on nothing but Gatorade and reduced-fat Triscuits. Afterwards, for whatever reason, I didn’t feel any funnier. My eyes hurt a little bit and I kind of needed to use the restroom, but I don’t think that meant anything.

SO you all must be wondering why I’m standing here today. I’m not really the type of guy to do stand-up at the school talent show, am I? I’m more of the nerd-type. Which brings me to the topic of our discussion today, children.

I seem to belong genetically to a certain category of teenage guys who sort of creep everyone out. You know who I’m talking about. The kids who always ate weird things in their sandwiches in grade school. The kids who ace science tests but have trouble pronouncing their r’s correctly. The kids who have imaginary friends until they hit about middle school when those imaginary friends get mixed up with the wrong crowd. The kids who always end up skipping prom to watch re-runs of The Twilight Zone. The Star Trek fans. The asthmatics. The kids who make squealing noises while we do push-ups in PE. That sort.

But I have a secret for you, as I stand up here today. (Don’t get too excited. If it was actually a good secret, I would only tell half of the kids I know). The secret is that I think the nerds will rise up against everyone else sooner or later. The secret is that the nerds will win out in the end.

This theory is kind of like the high school version of Marxism, except it’s even better. We nerds are never going to come to school one day with plastic swords and battle armor from Party City, intending to massacre anyone who’s ever bullied us. But once we emerge from high school with a low self-esteem and high GPA, life is going to get better for us. You have to remember, the nerds often get into the best colleges and get the best jobs. Then again, all of us go to Woodward. We can’t really say to bullies, “You may be laughing now, but later on in life you’ll serve me my French fries.” Instead, it’s like “You may be laughing now, but will you be laughing when I get my second PhD and you only have one?” Still, all the wealthiest people in the world are either nerds or politicians. Most times politicians aren’t really nerds, because as we all know, Americans really want to elect someone to office who they would just like to have a beer with.

All the movies agree with my theory. Ever seen Back to the Future? Michael J. Fox is in that movie as a guy named Marty who travels back in time to change his parents’ lives. Marty’s dad, George McFly, was a huge nerd. Every day when he went to school, this really beefy bully named Biff always said “Hey, McFly. Your shoe’s untied.” And when he looked down at his shoes, Biff would flick McFly’s nose with his thumb. Then George McFly always went “Oh, Biff.” I could never believe how stupid he was for falling for that trick over and over again, and I could never belief how stupid I was when I went to school and fell for that trick over and over again. But anyways, George McFly turns out to be a really successful science fiction novelist. Then again, Marty had to go back in time and pull some strings to make that happen, so maybe this isn’t a good example.

Instead, just watch The Breakfast Club. Ghostbusters. Revenge of the Nerds. All Nerds Go to Heaven. They all say the same thing: the losers, geeks, weirdoes, and nerds are really the coolest kids out there. We just have trouble speaking our minds because we’re usually wearing retainers.

So this message goes out to the bullies, the jocks, and all the good-looking students in the audience with great hair. This goes out to any cruel adolescent with an ego strong enough to power Chicago for a year. This goes out to all the kids who don’t recycle. Wait—scratch that last.

Next time you see the opportunity to be mean to a kid just because he’s a nerd, remember the benefits you receive from being nice to him instead. 1) He could do all of your homework for you, no fee. 2) You get way better Karma. And 3) you’ll be the very first one he takes to the Comic Con. when all of the other tickets are sold out.

Thank you and may the force be with you."