EleCivil

A friend of mine came over late last night to borrow an Xbox controller. He comes into my room and says, in a conspiratorial voice, "You ready to deal?" Now, I know that he's referencing the fact that everyone tends to assume that we're drug dealers. This is because we act fairly strangely and both grew up in a neighborhood in which all of our peers became drug dealers/burned out meth-heads/suicides. Playing along, I say "Oh, would you like to purchase some drugs? I'm accepting PayPal, now!" That's when I notice that his new girlfriend, who I had yet to meet, was standing in the doorway behind him. Awesome. Now she definitely thinks I'm a dealer. He says, "How about a trade? I'll give you this." He hands me a DVD case, while holding back laughter. It takes me a few seconds to recognize that the DVD case has a picture of a rather underdressed woman with a rather oversized penis in her mouth. The title? "Dick Lickers: Blowjob Edition". Now, the natural reaction would probably be to either laugh it off or hand it back to him. I did neither. I just stared at the title in wonder. "Blowjob Edition", to emphasize the fact that THIS edition of "Dick Lickers" contains oral sex. And all I could think was "What's on the NON-'Blowjob Edition' of 'Dick Lickers'? What other editions are there? 'Dick Lickers: Do-It-Yourself Drywall Repair Edition'? Dick Lickers: Global Warming Awareness Edition'? Is it like 'Law and Order', where there's a bunch of different spin-offs all with different characters, or is it a Three Stooges-esque series, in which those wacky Dick Lickers find themselves in zany (sticky?) situations every week?" And then I remembered that his girlfriend was standing there, watching me stare, transfixed, at the cover of a porno, no doubt thinking that I'm a sexually repressed drug dealer. I make the best first impressions. "You say you don't like the Ramones, but I think we're a lot like the Ramones Because we look good together but we can't get along - we're a lot like the Ramones." -"...Everything You Hate" by Delay

You guys didn't do half-birthdays for the summer kids? They always let us bring in cupcakes six months early if we were outside of the school year. Sure, it wasn't our real birthday...but then again, we didn't have to spend our real birthdays in school, so we were happy.

I got my Praxis scores back: Reading - 186 out of 190 Math - 182 out of 190 Writing - 182 out of 190 Passed! I was hanging out with some friends the other night, playing some Geometry Wars. We're all really competitive with each other, so it's the perfect game for us. It was my turn, so I went to sit on the couch. There was one other guy on the couch, and he was sitting right in the middle, so I had to squeeze in next to him. I turn to him and say "Move over a bit, man, this is awkward." He grins and moves over, but toward me instead of away from me. So now he's full-on leaning against me, trying to make me feel uncomfortable. I think to myself "Oh yeah? I'll show him who's uncomfortable!" so I drop an arm around his shoulders. At this point, the other guy in the room sees that we've started an Awkward Moment Contest, and joins in - he runs over and sits on my lap. So to one-up him, I rest my other hand on his thigh. One of them finally says, "You know, seeing as we're all way too competitive for our own good, we shouldn't play this game. Knowing us, it could actually progress to one of us fucking the other one, shouting 'Hey, this is so wacky! I bet I'm making you feel uncomfortable right now!'. And then the third one's going to want to top that, somehow, and it'd turn into a real life Aristocrats joke before any of us would give up." We recognized that he was probably right, so we broke it up and went back to Geometry Wars. "Some say monsters died out before I was ever born, But I think they're still around now, so could you please walk me home? 'Cause they're tearin' tearin' tearin' through the streets now, And tearing's never as good as I recall." -"I Know Monsters Well" by Punkin' Pie

Cool new chapter! Can't wait to see where this story goes, now that I'm not writing any of it. Also, happy belated fake birthday, Ryan!

I was digging through some stuff the other day and I came across a notebook from my sophomore year in high school. It contained a play that I wrote for Drama class, which was banned from being performed because...well, it's excessively violent, sacrilegious, and it didn't have enough parts for the whole class. But, hey, if you're interested in seeing some of my earliest recorded work, read on. Reproduced for the first time since 10th grade... Sergio the Pope ::The Pope's office. The Pope is getting ready to give a speech. Bill, the Pope's assistant, is assisting.:: Pope: Is my hat on straight, Bill? I've got to look my best for this. Today is the day that I finally announce the big news: that I am, in fact, Catholic. Bill: Thereby making that sarcastic expression about the topic much more valid. Pope: Exactly. Now, I- ::The Pope gasps for air, clutches his chest, and falls over.:: Bill: Good Lord! He's dead! No...this can't happen. If people found out, the ensuing power struggle would lead to a bloodbath! ::Bill conceals the Pope's body under a pile of leaves.:: Bill: There. Now that he's camouflaged, all we need is a replacement Pope. ::Enter Serio, sneaking by with a loot bag over his shoulder, his back to Bill. Bill taps him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and drop the bag. Expensive looking things spill out.:: Bill: Who the hell are you? What are you doing in the Vatican? Sergio: Blast! Captured! How could I, Sergio, King of all Pirates, get spotted by a lowly assistant! My reputation is ruined! Bill: Hmm...pirate king, you say? So you're used to giving speeches to the other pirates, right? Sergio: Well, I do perform some stand-up comedy at the annual pirate convention in Texas. Bill: Good enough. I've got a proposition for you...your holiness. Sergio: My...holiness? Bill: I want you to take the place of the Pope. In return, I won't turn you in, and you'll get to maintain your reputation as pirate king. Sergio: But I can't be the Pope! I slept through Latin! Bill: Just fake it! Sergio: Isn't lying a sin? Bill: What's it matter to you? You're going to hell, anyway. Sergio: Fair enough. I'll do it! ::Curtain closes - opens on The Pope waking up in his office and turning on the TV.:: Reporter: On the lighter side of the news, The Pope will be performing his now famous stand-up routine a this years Pirate Convention in Texas. The Pope, seen here swinging in on a chandalier with a cutlass between his teeth, is said to have some all new material in addition to his crowd favorite "What's the deal with Archbishops?" set. ::The Pope turns off the TV:: Pope: An impostor! I'd recognized that Pope anywhere. My old nemesis from my days in the Spanish Fleet...Sergio! 'What's the deal with archbishops,' indeed. I'll show him what the deal is! ::Bill and Sergio enter. The Pope hides behind a chair.:: Bill: So, after the "You might be a Catholic if..." bit, you should probably throw in something like "And by the way, I really am the Pope. I'm definitely not some sort of pirate royalty." Sergio: But, I am pirate royal- Ohhh...right. To give me some more credibility. I get it. Bill: Exactly. Ah, here it is. ::Bill picks up the Pope cane and hands it to Sergio. They walk offstage.:: ::Curtain closes - opens backstage at PirateCon.:: Bill: Okay, your holiness. This is your time to shine. Show everyone that you're not only the Pope, but that you're the funniest Pope since Pope Cosby the 14th. ::The Pope bursts in:: Pope: Sergio! Sergio: ::gasps:: Captain Victor Raftsbane, pirate of the Blackest Flag! Pope: Um, no. I'm Pope Mathew Mark Luke the 4th. Or as you may remember me, Admiral Mathew Mark Luke of the Spanish Fleet! Sergio: Doesn't ring a bell. Bill: It's the Pope, you idiot! The real Pope! ::Bill shoves Sergio out of the way.:: Bill: Your Holiness! Thank the Lord, you've come back! Now you can replace this fake Pope and things will be set right! Sergio: Hold it! I have no intention of being replaced! I'll have you know that I enjoy being Pope. I get my dry cleaning done for free, people kneel when I enter rooms, and I can have any woman I desire! Bill: Um...about that... Pope: Forget it, Sergio! Now that I'm back, it's simply a matter of exposing you to the public. Sergio: You can't expose me if you're dead! The truth shall never leave this room! ::Sergio draws his cutlass:: Pope: We both knew it would come to this! On your guard! ::The Pope draws a sword, previously concealed under his robes. Bill hides under a chair.:: Pope: Come on, big man! Pirate King! Sergio: Arrr! You'll be adorning me blade by the end of the night! ::The two begin sword fight - choreograph fight based on actor's physical abilities:: Pope: Who's your holy father? Who's your holy father? Sergio: I am Sergio...THE POPE! ::Sergio charges, but the Pope parries and runs him through.:: Pope: HAHA! I did it! I beat the Pirate King! I am the greatest Pope of all time! ::The Pope clutches his chest and falls to his knees, gasping for air.:: Pope: ...I suppose I should have gone to see a doctor after that first heart attack...instead of...swashbuckling... ::The Pope falls over, dead. Bill stands up.:: Bill: Oh no! Now we don't have ANY Popes! And he's supposed to go on any minute! Where am I going to find another Pope on such short notice! ::A 70's-era pimp struts by, spinning his cane:: Bill: Good enough. Excuse me, sir! What's your name? Pimp: Why, I'm Pimp Daddy McGoose, greatest pimp in all of Texas! Bill: How would you like to be the Pope? ::Bill offers the pimp the pope hat and cane. The pimp drops his own hat and cane and accepts them, then struts in front of a mirror to admire his new gear.:: Pimp: I can dig it. ::Curtain closes:: The End

I went to a midnight release - stood in line for about two hours, got my copy around 12:08. I finished it last night. Sadly...(spoiler - highlight below to read)...

Hey, this is the first time I've gotten to two pages of blog comments. 'Course, half of them are either blank posts, mistakes, or posts about blank posts or mistakes...but even so, it's a milestone of some kind. Still haven't gotten back my writing scores - they said it'd be 2 to 3 weeks.I did get my other scores, though - 186 in math and a 182 in reading (out of a possible 190, with 175 required to pass).Writing was the hardest one, not because of the essay (which was no problem), but because of the multiple choice. I hate multiple choice, because I tend to over-think everything.But I think you should start the revolution with me whether I pass or not.

The sun was hot, the breeze was cool, the music was loud, and my sleeves were short. Yes, that's right...a perfect day to have to go and take a three hour written test. I took the Praxis I test, yesterday. That's the first of three tests that you need to pass to get a teaching certification. Praxis I tests you in reading, writing, and math. Praxis II tests you in your specialized content areas (English and science, for me) and pedagogy. Praxis III is an in-class evaluation, where they come and watch you teach. I got back my scores on the reading and math sections, but the writing will take longer, because they have to grade an essay in addition to the multiple choice questions. Here's the shocker: I scored higher on math than I did on reading. I passed both, but it's still weird. Weirder still, I thought writing was the hardest part. I swear, if I pass math, but fail writing, I'm going to be double-plus-pissed. "Sandro came back from world travel stupider than left, Even good guys fight each other, even bad songs are theft. We walked stupied, he talked stupid, he could not comprehend, So everyone called him...a stupid man." " -"Harem in Tuscany (Tartana!)" by Gogol Bordello

When this question was first raised, my first thought was of the Urkmobile - the tiny, awkward car that Steve Urkel drove on Family Matters. But then I realized that it would have to be the NmG Sparrow - an electric car with three wheels.Yeah...if there's an EleMobile, that's it. I wonder if I could get one with mismatched tires...

Hahaha, awesome, Hoppi. Gotta love Nothing Nice to Say.

This is an older (true) story, from when I was in high school. I was 16 at the time. I was thinking about it as I was driving home this morning, and thought that you guys would appreciate it. I was driving to school in my Dad's Cadillac. It was a piece of junk - older than I was, on it's 5th or 6th owner, beaten all to hell, but I was 16, so I thought it was awesome. It was raining heavily. I was going up this huge hill when my brakes cut out. Mind you, I didn't notice that the breaks were out until I was on my way DOWN said hill at 50 miles per hour. At first I thought I must have driven through a puddle, so I started pumping the brakes. When that didn't work, I hit the emergency brake. That did nothing. As Mitch Hedberg once said, "It shouldn't be called an Emergency Brake. It should be called an Emergency Make-The-Car-Smell-Funny Lever." I'd never used emergency brakes before, so I figure, hey, maybe THOSE need pumping, too. So, now each leg is pumping. Because of the position of the emergency brake, I have to rise slightly from my seat in order to pump it. Now, pumping both legs while in a half-squat position, semi-restrained by a seatbelt, results in a series of repeated, rhythmic hip-thrusts. I don't know if you've ever seen someone thrusting their hips while hanging off of a steering wheel, screaming obscenities with a wild look in their eyes, but let me tell you...it looks a lot like they're making violent, passionate love to their steering column. I noticed that I was coming up on a red light, with other cars already stopped, so I moved into the turning lane and started blasting my horn. Keep in mind, I'm too terrified to take my hands off of the wheel, so, yes, I had to hit the horn with my hips. Now it not only looks like I'm engaging in intercourse with my steering column, but it sounds like it's enjoying it. As I roll through the red light, thrusting, screaming, and hump-honking, I can only imagine what the people lined up at the red light are thinking as they look over and see me. I have visions of old people shaking their heads in disgust, turning to their passengers, and saying "Damned crazy teens." I keep this up for a while before I finally realize that all the pumping isn't getting me anywhere (with the brakes, that is), so I say "Hell with it, this car's toast, anyway," and throw on the parking brake just as I take a turn into a parking lot. There's a huge THUMP sound and the tires squeal. Smoke comes pouring out from under the hood as I jerk to a sharp stop, with one last full-body thrust against my seatbelt. I fall back against my seat, sucking in air, and considering my position and feelings of mixed exhilaration and relief, I'm forced to wonder for the first (and possibly last) time in my life...did...did I just fuck a Cadillac? "Rejoice! Although this world will probably hurt you. Rejoice! Despite the fact this world will kill you! And rejoice! Despite the fact this world will tear you to shreds... Rejoice! Because you're trying your best!" -"Rejoice!" by Andrew Jackson Jihad

Ever completely forget that other people were in the house, and start doing something that even you think is kind of weird? Yesterday morning, I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shaving my head, when I started singing: "Shaving my dome, Shaving my big white dome, I don't get razor burn Because I use a lot of foam! I wake up and shave my dome At the break of dawn, Yes, I'm shaving my dome, With my bath towel on...." I was about to start in on a second verse when I realized that, since it was the fourth of July, everybody was off of work, and waiting to applaud as soon as I stepped out. That night, some friends and I chased each other around with sparklers and traded protest songs. It was cool, but a couple people kept trying to get me to drink. "Dude, you'll be 21 in, like, four days. We're not going to turn you in or something. It's four days!" I was dumbstruck - they actually thought that the reason I don't drink is because it wouldn't be legal. I had to explain, like, since when do I care about the law? Fuck the law. I'm not going to be one of those posers who blunts their edges the day the law says that they can. Oh, yeah - I turn 21 on Sunday. "I learned all about Liberty. It's a statue near a harbor in a city called New York. And I learned that statues are things that we build To remind us of things that have died." -"Liberty is a Statue" by Evan Greer

I'm very, very close to finishing the next chapter of Laika. I'm going to take my laptop to work today and finish it there (hopefully). I plan to send it in tomorrow. I was talking to a friend of mine the other night. He goes to a different school, where he tutors Logic and Western Philosophy. I tutor Logic and Eastern Philosophy. We started talking around midnight and then debated names v. properties for four hours, then passed out on the floor until noon. The highlight reel would include lines like "That lamp is markedly different from Chicago," "Hitler and Ghandi...they were both people, right?", "That object of infinite potential that is currently residing on your foot could, indeed, be called a 'shoe' right now, but if I removed it from your foot and threw it on the ice at a hockey game, it could be called an 'octopus'," and, finally, "FUCK! Descartes only needed to spend ONE PAGE on this, and then he was DONE. That's why Western philosophy makes so much more sense." Also, I'm working on a top secret project that I plan to release by the end of summer. No more details, though. "With the music execution and the talk of revolution, It bleeds in me and it goes... Give 'em the boot the roots the radicals! Give 'em the boot you know I'm a radical! Give 'em the boot the roots the reggae on my stereo..." -"Roots Radicals" by Rancid

I shave my head...does that mean I'm in the closet? Or just "confused"?

When I lived in Kentucky, the church that my dad was preaching at was in a dry county - meaning, no sales of alcohol on Sundays. This meant that the superconservative Southern Baptists who helped put that law in place had to smuggle wine in across county lines to do communion services. I thought it was pretty funny - the attitude was "Absolutely no booze on Sundays...unless WE want some."

Pretty much, except, like I said, I'll make an "Out of Step" shirt and put X's on the backs of my hands. It may be taking the easy way out, but he's the only musician I really like that has enough of a distinctive look. http://www.pajiba.com/images/freaks2.jpgHe's the one at the top of this cast shot. Though the geeky guy and the band guy are both in the movie, too.

After a lot of wranglin' with the financial aid office, I managed to tap into some more grants and scholarships. $12,000 worth, for my 4th year of college (4th year already? Jeez...). I'm almost going for free, now. Awwwwright. Last night, a friend and I dressed up in full pirate gear to go see Pirates of the Caribbean 3. At the last minute, though, we decided to see Knocked Up instead. We didn't change, though - we figured it'd be even funnier to be dressed as pirates that want to see a Judd Apatow movie than pirates who want to see a pirate movie. It was really good, by the way. Seth Rogan has always been my favorite of Apatow's regulars, all the way back to Freaks and Geeks, so I was glad to see him get a lead role. There's plans for a Guitar Hero party, soon. Everyone's going to dress as a different musician. I've heard people planning for Elvis, Gene Simmons, Kurt Cobain, John Lennon, and Claudio Sanchez. I've already got an Ian MacKaye costume planned, even though nobody there is going to know who Ian MacKaye is (philistines). I'll have to DIY a t-shirt with the lyrics to "Out of Step" on it. "I Don't smoke, Don't drink, Don't fuck, At least I can fucking think!" -"Out of Step (with the World)" by Minor Threat

This should work on most laptops. I've done it before.It worked! I can't believe I never tried that!Thanks! Now I'm off to write.

I'm inspired. I want to write. I mean, I want to REALLY write. I want to pound out the rest of Laika, right now. I've got some poetry running around in my head, and another story, too. I want to get it all out. I've been pretty blocked for the past couple months, but now I'm ready to explode. In word form. Wordsplosion, Vocabustion, Abecedarian-Conflagration! Problem is, my laptop's battery has died. Completely died. To the point where, even when it's plugged into the wall, there's no juice getting to the laptop itself. The laptop's got all my writing files on it - character bibles, plot outlines, loose dialogue, etc. On top of that, it's the only computer I've got access to that's private, and I've never been able to write well in public. I've ordered a new battery, but it'll take somewhere around eight business days to get here. But when it does, expect a new chapter (or two) within a couple days. "No Reason Why - to beat up on a poser skin! No Reason Why - to keep the little kids from getting in! No Reason Why - to take advantage of the people you know! No Reason Why - there's just no reason why!" -"No Reason Why" by Gorilla Biscuits

Thanks for the heads-up. I never noticed the trackbacks before, but I had a bunch of 'em. Killed them, though.

Man, I haven't played Soul Calibur since the Dreamcast days. My strategy was always to pick Maxi (Dandy of the South Seas!) and then mash the hell out of some buttons. Needless to say, you'd probably kick my ass way quicker than you did long-hair-dude.

Yeah, man, chains and leather is way too mainstream for me. I'm only really interested in encounters that involve clipping my toenails in a bathtub full of cottage cheese while doing a Bill Cosby impression. Anything less than that and you're just buying into the system. Actually, it wasn't the bondage gear that creeped me out (not my kind of thing, but whatever) - it was the fact that I had to have a conversation about said bondage gear with my mom, and the last thing I need is my mom thinking about me in bondage gear with a high school girl. I mean, c'mon, there's limits even to MY depravity.

It's been a while since I've posted here, so I've got a few stories. More relatives have been coming to visit my dad. Second cousins and great-uncles from the hills and mountain towns who I've never met before. I've never fit in with my dad's side of the family - they're from the mountains of Pennsylvania, really small-town, rural places. Their main interests and talking points are sports, intra-family gossip, and God, in that order. Three topics that I can't really say anything about, since I don't follow sports, I don't know any gossip, and I don't believe in God. As such, I usually just stay quiet when they're around and shrug off their criticisms-disguised-as-questions ("You're such a handsome young man - why do you go and shave your head like that?" "Why don't your socks match?" "Why do you have that pirate flag flying from your window? What, you think you're tough?" "Why don't you play football? What do you mean, your college doesn't have any sports teams? What kind of a school is that?" "You want to be a teacher? Isn't it mostly women who do that?"). Some relatives from my Mom's side have been visiting, too. That's the side of the family I've always fit in with. One of my uncles is a systems-admin and a juggler/unicyclist. One works for NASA and writes poetry. My Grandpa on that side died before I was old enough to get to know him, but I understand he was some kind of working class hero who marched with the unions and read Shakespeare to his fellow migrant rail-workers, teaching them English as they sat around the campfires. I only got to hang out with them for a couple minutes, though, because I had to go to work on the day they came. --- Something weird happened the other day. My mom tells me that she was outside when one of the local girls came up and started grilling her about me - "Is that your son? How old is he? He likes punk music, right? And he juggles, right?" And then, this girl who I've never met tells my mom - MY MOM, the preacher's wife - that she thinks I'd look pretty hot in chains and leather. GOOD. LORD. So now my parents are laughing about me being some kind of secret bondage freak going around corrupting the local high school girls. Eh...heh. --- I was out walking during a thunderstorm earlier tonight. I like walking in the rain. It kicks all your senses into overdrive - listening to the static of the raindrops, feeling the little wet explosions all over your skin, smelling and tasting the water on the air, watching the bubbles erupting from the gasoline rainbows on the pavement - it's the best. But today, it was raining so heavily that the storm drains started to back up, and before I knew it, I was knee-deep in water. Now, as soon as I felt the cold water sloshing over my shoes, I started up a nicely flowing stream of profanities that only intensified as it deepened, while I slogged through in search of higher ground. Somewhere in the midst of my soaked swear-storm, I changed gears. I shouted to the trees that there was now enough water in my shoes to form at least two new Great Lakes - Lake Shoe-perior and Lake On-toe-rio. I then looked around, and told the streetlights that I hoped that the swearing had scared off any listeners, because I'd hate to think that someone had just heard that terrible, terrible pun.

It seems you've caught me committing a Capital offense. Ye have run afoul of me again, writebythyself! I'd challenge you to a bout of internet fisticuffs, but...I can't be bothered.

When I glanced at the topic list, I read the title to this thread as "Punkenschwarzen," and assumed that it was about some German punk band. Naturally, I was quite disappointed to discover that it was, instead, a thread about one of my own habits. That's right - I'm a double-spacer. And nothing short of a broken right thumb is going to stop me! It's just so satisfying. IInfact, maybe I should start adding an extra capitol letter to the beginnings of sentences, too. SSeems like it'd be a fun transition from the double-space.