and____bang's Xanga

Saturday, February 17, 2007

Sat, 17 Feb 2007 22:06:52 GMT

Is anyone ever really satisfied?

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Sat, 03 Feb 2007 12:54:33 GMT

Shizzle was pondering, as he sometimes did to make sure his brain still worked properly. The only hitch was, how could you be sure if your brain wasn't working properly? Yeah, ponder that one for a while. Ever since the second dream, (Unaired on this site) he had been thinking more and more. Maybe the tree he had lounged underneath in said episode had been under some kind of enchantment, causing all of it's partakers to become thoughtful. Nah, who would enchant a tree like that, for real? A third grade teacher? Now a tree that ate everyone except the Cheat and me, now, that would be something. Ahem. Yes, Shizzle was pondering about many things, but foremost in his mind was the girl. Meggie, she had told him, and given him one of those smiles. As if she knew you had stolen the cookies, but admired your fortitude and stealth, and wanted to know if she could have a few. Shizzle wished he had some cookies, just so's he could give her some.
With a brief sigh, he hoisted himself to his feet, and walked to the brink of the ledge he had been sitting on. It jutted out from the top of the mountain the merry band currently found themselves camped on. As he stood gazing over the land from atop the promontory, the thought presented itself that this particular landscape looked not at all dissimilar to somewhere he had been before. Ah... that is, the view looked kinda familiar. He wondered what exactly would await him, and if the story's intended plot line would dramatically change or not... He shrugged ambiguously. One thing was for sure; thinking wasn't very satisfying.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 22:51:52 GMT

Well, I want more comments, so I guess I'd bloody well better write another post, if you'll pardon my English.

I'm leaving for school on Saturday, and as much as I've enjoyed doing absolutely nothing at all, the novelty was beginning to wear. I'll be almost glad to go back, even gladder to get a job, and almost positively ecstatic if that job should happen to be working at the skating rink.

If anyone out there owns rechargable batteries, then you have no doubt felt the same things about them as I recently have. You never know if they're fully charged unless you take them straight out of the charger, and so tend to blame them for any malfunctions that the device they're powering may have. You get kind of miffed at them for a while, and shove them in the charger even though they probably don't need charging. Then later, when you take them back out, they're all nice and warm, kind of like taking clothes out of the dryer in an acidic kind of chemically way, and you just hold them in your hands for a while, relishing their radiance and glorious second-hand current, and all is forgiven. Well, maybe not the same exact way as I have, but you know.

A portion of the day that could be construed as controversial is that oh-so-sketchy period right after you wake up. Let's say I have a case of bad breath first thing in the morning, totally hypothetically of course. What should I do? Should I
A) Go brush my teeth
B) Chew some delightfully minty gum
C)Pop some cashews and fughettaboudit
Golly, tough choice, right? Depends on all kinds of circumstances, contingencies and collagens, right? Collagens have something to do with lips, right? Well I'm behind you 100% if you agreed with any or all of the above. That's right. Carry on, Mr. Bowditch.

Do you know what I heard? I heard that there was snow and ice as far south as Texas! If that indeed be the case, I can hear the one thought bombinating around the many skulls of this nation: "What about beach volleyball?!" In answer... "There won't BE any beach volleyball!" *Collective gasp* In self-same manner as said adieu to our favorite netted game, I bid farewell to thee also, fair reader. Stay out of the garbage cans of life, and have wonderful and fun filled weekends.

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Sun, 31 Dec 2006 03:01:37 GMT

Would you like to know the big picture? Divine the great scheme of things? Discover how your life has significance and purpose in all of it's apparent ignominy? Get hep to the all-encompassing enumeration of the world as we know it? Figure out why our material existence in all of it's complexity functions and relates to you as it does? Look no further.

"All we are is dust in the wind, dude."
~Bill S. Preston, Esquire

Deep? Yes. Profound? Certainly. Pithy? As a pomegranite. But all this to tell you that I got a cell phone for Christmas, it's number is 570-417-0387, and that you are to call at your earliest convenience because I want to hear from you, that's right, all of you, at this very moment? I guess so, yeah. Pretty unecessary, but it was fun for me. I'm not at all sure that's how you're supposed to spell pomegranite, though. No, it's too late to look it up, I don't care anymore. Oh? Yeah? Well you can just get off my site then, see if I care. And shut UP abut my green hair already! It is neither mold or algae, and it is most certainly not a wig! What's that you say? Just teasing? Well let's see how a good portion of your rear end likes to be teased then, huh? Um, okay, that was about as wrong as I like to get on this site, I'm now going to bed. May cute girls in Osh-Kosh pervade my dreams, Bi-gosh.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Thu, 14 Dec 2006 01:35:37 GMT

I just had a two-hour phone conversation with home, in which numerous things were brought up and discussed, not the least of which being coming home today!!! Also mentioned were the My Chemical Romance concert I went to with a couple friends a while back and the current bleached state of my hair. (Soon to be green. Yes, I celebrate Christmas in my own way, it's true, but that doesn't mean I don't have a merry spirit. OH! All youse guys from home reading this, we should have a ceremonial ritual kind of thing for it. You know, gather round a volcano with a lovely virgin and chant "Oooma-Chaka, Oooma-Chaka" as we prepare to throw her in... that kind of deal. And Ben, if you say anything that even remotely resembles the word "Sharkbait," or utter a single "Oo-ha-ha," we get to dye yours too.) The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air came up as well, and cell phones for me, muhahaha, and then Mike and I spent about an hour talking about random things most of which I shan't mention. One of the reccuring things we discussed was advertising. We are of the opinion that beer commercials are probably the best commercials out there today. Not only are they the most randomly funny commercials out there, they totally and completely accomplish their goal. I mean, we don't even drink the stuff, but already we like Bud Light because their line of radio ads are hilarious and empathetic. If I was going to try a beer, I would probably try that one first, just because my mental associations with the product are ones of happiness and laughter. And the people that work for their company have to be great too, right? They came up with such geat commercials they have to be!

This led us to the conclusion that we should work in advertising. So Mike and I, along with AJ and Ben, we decided, should be the creative genius behind some major corporation and make oodles of noodles. You know, so just in case they drop the gold standard and adopt pasta as the new one we'll be sittting pretty. We already have a great ad for Verizon, are you ready? Okay, picture this: A bunch of teenagers are at a party around a pool or something, and as they meet and schmooze with one another, they whip out their cell phones and inquire..."Hey dude, you cellin'?" To which they all reply in groovy tones, "Oh, you know it!", "Yeah man!", and "Dude, I'm cellin' like a felon!" And eventually a mildly geeky guy walks up to their smiling clique, holds out his Tracfone and says hesitantly, "Hey...I'm cellin'.." And they're all like "Dude, you are SO not cellin'!" At which point the screen goes black and the words "Tracfones Suck." fall out of the sky and land in bold yellow print, follwed by "Get Verizon." follwed by "Fo'shizzle." We put that last bit in just to appeal to our black veiwers. That'll probly earn us a few boxes of uncooked lasagna noodles. Or maybe Fettuchini, even... Ooooo, Fettuchini...

We also think that Christopher Walken should star in a comedy movie with Bill Murray. I mean, Chris always plays dour roles in movies, stereotypically Jacob from Sarah, Plain and Tall. But he is actually funny to amazing proportions. "Gene, this time I want you to explore the studio space... I mean really Explore the Space!!" Like in aforequoted SNL skit with Will Ferrel. And Bill Murray is just...Bill Murray. Yeah, yeah, see? You know. And then we could throw Stewie Griffin in there somehow for a random cameo or something... The possibilies are endless. But now I must away with me, and catch up on all the sleep I missed while with Sean, bleaching hair at 3:30 in the morning and walking-thru the drive-thru at Sonic.

Adieu.

P.S. If you write 040404 on a calculator and turn it upside-down, it says hohoho. Just thought you might like to..Ahem, hear that, you know? I just ate a three-foot long Pixie Stick; for the love of Pete, get me a mattress, I'm gonna crash...

P.P.S. Also, Please, for the love of Pete, DO NOT feed the Huuuuuuuudge.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Sat, 09 Dec 2006 17:56:08 GMT

I just wished for a shooting star, how ironic is that?

I'm going to go dance around underneath said brilliant flecks for an hour, or perhaps until my eyes freeze over. Here's wishing, folks. May all we depressed spirits be infused by a good, stiff shot of hope tonight.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Tue, 28 Nov 2006 15:34:54 GMT

I♥Things!

For two days in a row, I've been asked the question of free will. That is, sat in two philosophy classes (count 'em- \m/ \m/)and had the profs discuss it in terms of the problem of evil and God's intervention, and in terms of determinism vs. indeterminism; i.e. whether or not everything is caused by something, or if there are instances in which chance/choice may exist. ¿How could life get better, esse? I suppose Chips Ahoy could magically rain down from the skies, but shy of that, it's a difficulty to cognitively grasp the magnitude of goodness required to top that in terms of interestingness.

*Sound of a vinyl being taken off the turntable abruptly* We now return you to the ending I so timely cut off.

    Eago pressed his ear up against the side of the stall, straining to hear something, anything, to assure him he wasn't going insane. The whisper came again:
    "Psst! Hey, you with the 4-star resort on your rear!"
Eago figured there weren't overly many other horses around here with enough culture to have 4 stars under their belt, and so replied "Uhhhhh..." in kind of a strained groan.
    "Could you maybe turn around? I can't understand what you're saying," the voice said.
    "Can't... turn around..." Eago groaned back. "Stall... too narrow..."
    "Oh, right, there should be button on the floor somewhere underneath your left rear hoof. Just press that."
Eago felt around through the hay strewn about the floor of the stall until he found the button. I should probably mention that it was bright red, shaped like half of a bubble, and had a big white exclamation mark on the side. He stomped on it, and suddenly he was facing outwards, head hanging naturally over the edge of the gate that trapped him in the stall. His eyes bulged at all the things he had been missing for so long. I mean, there were piles of hay... and hay bales.... and a loft filled with hay.... And a big fat black guy saying "Hey, hey, hey!"
    "Glad you could join me," the voice came again. "So, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?"
Eago's breath caught as he turned his head to look at the next stall. The voice, which he now dubbed soft and feminine, was coming from another horse who was exactly that. Well, that is, she looked soft anyway. And feminine, of course. Actually she was really...I mean...Eago just...and it wasn't like.....Sheesh, I'm the author and I can't even....beautiful is only so.... and yeah, he pretty much fell in love with her at first glance. Ah, the hapless and sometimes shallow traits of the erudite but sheltered.
    "...H-h-hi," Eago stammered, eyes wide. He realized that he was staring, but couldn't really think of any other options at the time. "I'm a horse too," he noted.
    "Yes, you are," she noted back amusedly, "And a talking one at that. I've heard you muttering to yourself ever since they brought you in." She gave him a very secret kind of feminine smile, which nearly caused him to swoon. "I didn't think there were any others like me," she went on, "But then, I suppose I haven't seen very many horses, living in this little village all my life."
    "Yeah," Eago said, nodding in agreement enthusiastically.

* * *

Shizzle dashed across the field that separated the jailhouse from the street and the rest of town, followed closely by a nose, which in turn was followed by it's chivalrous owner.
    "Over here, in the impound stable!" Shizzle panted as he sprinted the last few yards and pressed himself up against the side of the building. He and Sir Schnoz inched around to the door way and flung it open hastily, just like they do in the movies when they're in a hurry to escape. They found Eago staring google-eyed at another horse, nodding like a fool, and I guess you could say just plain dottering. Shizzle stopped dead in his tracks, took in the situation, and laughed with great hilarity.
    "Oh, I am never going to let you live this one down!"
Eago's head snapped around and his vision came back into focus. His eyes narrowed a bit as he spoke.
    "I haven't the foggiest idea what you mean. Now get us out of here."
    "Ah, so now it's 'us' is it?" Sir Schnoz chuckled, nudging Shizzle as small scurrying rodents were blown into the corners by the gale that ensued.
At about this time, they began to hear angry shouts from the general direction they had come from.
    "No time to milk this one, it seems,"Shizzle said regretfully, unlatching the stall door and grabbing a saddle and blanket hastily. Sir Schnoz did likewise, and in a matter of seconds they both issued forth, timing it perfectly to be chased down the main thoroughfare by the enraged populace. They led a merry chase to well outside the village limits, and then doubled back to ransack the general store. Bwahahaha! Ahem. That is, they took a few necessary supplies and maybe an apple or two for the horses, and vamoosed. Without paying. Which counts as ransacking in my book.
    "Well I'm glad we're through that particular madcap escapade," Eago said happily. (And you thought you would never see the phrase "madcap escapade" outside of some corny description on the back of a movie.) "How did you chaps escape from the hoosegow, anyway?
Shizzle and Sir Schoz exchanged a look.
    "Well, our plan was to wait for a file and file down old Schnozzy's honker to fit the lock," Shizzle explained, "But it turns out that we didn't have to; it fit just the way it was."
And with that, the adventurers continued on their merry journey.

* * *

Also, I've decided to flex my HTML muscle, and add a little section at the bottom of my page that catalogues all the people that do Kudos-worthy things. You may be on it in the near future, who knows? Do something cool and you will be! Maybe I'll give out prizes for the person with the highest total at the end of the year or something.

Sweet.

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Thu, 16 Nov 2006 03:10:31 GMT

Last day of classes! *Snoopy dances emphatically* I've written two 8 page Psych papers over the last two nights, and frankly, I'm in the groove, baby. Since all I have left requires no writing, I seem to be in a quandary of sorts. Hence, the following.

* * *

    Shizzle lay on the lumpy, stained mattress staring up at the ceiling of the jail cell dismally. He sighed a great sigh, sending dust particles in the single beam of light from the window swirling. He glanced over to the barred door, which Sir Schnoz was still pressed up against, demanding ardently to no one in particular that they be released at once. It seemed they were to be completely and totally ignored.
    "You'd better cease with all the yelling," Shizzle said, slightly annoyed. "They aren't likely to listen to you in any case, now are they?"
    Sir Schnoz turned to him grouchily, and snapped, "Now how was I possibly going to know that there would be laws governing the protrusion of one's nose, hmm? It's a tiny remote villiage in the exact center of nowhere! If you remember, I was the one that proposed we find a much longer and circuitous route to get avoid this villiage alltogether."
    Shizzle rolled his eyes. "As if we could possibly pass up this opportunity for a short plot complication? Besides, we were out of Perrier, the caviar was gone, and there was no more melba toast. The only thing we had left was a bottle of Dom."
    "And that package of Bubblicious, Richie's favorite," the knight agreed. "But what about my proposition that we survive on shoe leather? I'm pretty sure it would've lasted us until we made it to Sommerset or 41 Baker Street, or somewhere civilized."
    "Yes," Shizzle said solemnly, sitting up to face him, "But did you really want to take that chance?"
    The other maintained his defiant expression for a moment longer, but finally drooped resignedly. "No... No, I didn't...." Tears of frustration began to appear in his eyes. "It's just all just so ridiculous," he sniffed, and sat down next to Shizzle.
    "There there old chap," Shizzle said, putting his arm around the knight's shoulders comfortingly, "Look on the bright side; someone may send us a cake with a file in it. Then we could file your nose down to fit the lock or something."

Meanwhile, in a stable not too overly far away...

    Eago stood face to the wall in a stall that was too narrow to turn around in. He had counted the number of knots in the wood, the number of nails holding the boards together, and how many times he had sung "Born to Be Wild" by Steppenwolf. (Which, incidentally, was greater than the number of nails.) He was about to experience firsthand a lack of cognitive input of a kind that philosophers only dream about in hypothetical constucts partaining to nothingness. He had for a while now simply let the flies do what they wished to on his backside, if only to have some kind of empirical evidence that time still marched inexorably forward. They developed a fairly nice resort, all factors considered; it had the pool and shuffleboard courts, but we all know how hard it is to get 4-star chefs these days. In short, he was pretty dang bored. A whispered voice suddenly broke through his reverie, and just at the "fire all of your guns at once; explode into space," part, too.
    "Psst! (Which is how all good whispers start) Hey, new guy!"
    Eago didn't answer for a second. In fact, he had pretty much forgotten what all speech sounded like until that moment, and he stood paralyzed until suddenly the memory of how to speak came flooding back.

You like to know what he said, wouldn't you?

Bwahahaha, sorry, it's too late to write more. Maybe tomorrow night.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Mon, 13 Nov 2006 18:47:23 GMT

Push play.............now.

Do-de-do-de-do! *Does a little Gir dance*

All I have to say is, poor pussy...poor pussycAAaat...

~~~~~~~~~~~~EDIT!~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, I hadn't realized you had to go to the audioblog link. It's up there, "audio," you can't miss it.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Fri, 10 Nov 2006 00:45:44 GMT

All right, Ryan, write something. Engage the brain. *Slight whirring noise followed by a click, and sloooowly ease up on the clutch* Sweet, here we go.

You know you've been to WOLBI if...You've defied the sign and actually touched something on Jack Wyrtzen's desk when no one was looking.

Travelling from Hungary to Columbia is no big deal.

To this day, you think standing on the same porch with a girl is pushing the bounds of propriety.

You think of something entirely different than 'personal computer' when 'PC' is mentioned, and have even devised handshakes and high-fives you can do without touching.

You get into the right lane early because exit 19 is coming up.

(Boys) You live in North America, but have never actually been in there.

You've stolen the grey rooster and put it in someone elses dorm.

You've sacrificed someone to the gods on the altar at the Manor.

The 5 Snow Campers you lost to horrible and grisly fates haunt you every night.

You know you're an old school Lifer when it's Jacks, has always been Jack's, and ALWAYS WILL BE JACK'S!!!

You know you're at WOL Florida when chitchat about friends' romantic endeavors invariably includes "The Loop"

You're not allowed to walk out the door at the end of your hallway.

You know every single person on campus by name, face, and prayer request.

The DC stays up playing Halo later than you do.

You have a hundred surrogate grandmas and grandpas stationed not half-a-mile away in almost as many RVs.

You know Mrs. Nelson and Mrs. Ingersoll!!!

Almost blowing up your dorm is a forgivable offense, as well as (accidentally[of course]) lighting it on fire and/or filling the room with smoke.

You eat in the SDR (Or maybe the YRC) Have chapel in the HBPAC and class in the GTAC, and you've chased a lizard on the way to any of them.

You call your friend over to see the gator you and your buddies ca..I mean, what? Huh? Nobody catches gators. *Innocent look*

Incidentally, it's only 8 days 'til my birthday. I'll be 20 years old. In the words of a Norwegian, "Scary, yah?"