TB
NO...NOT Tuberculosis, Taco Bell, dammit, and this is what happened...
It was around 9:55pm when Tinicia and I arrived at our lovely Taco Bell on the Golden Strip in Williamsport (East 3rd Street). I was driving and decided that it'd be wise to go through the drive-thru, seeing as how the lobby restaurant was going to close in 5 minutes. I ordered a Chicken Chalupa Baja, a Chicken Enchirito, and a small Baja Blast. I gladly paid and pulled around to the other side of the building and parked in the parking lot to put the Fire Sauce on my Chalupa (no, NOT a sexual reference) and to just chill with TinLynne. As I was preparing my Chalupa, I saw out of the corner of my left eye a man...a black man, bent over, fairly close to my mom's car window, peeking into my car at me and Tinicia, almost inquisitively, and, because I've always wanted something exciting to happen, I looked back, unlocked the car, and opened the door. "Yes?", I asked. "Do you smoke weed?", he replied, dead serious, while eating a taco in the paper wrapper. "No.", I said, fairly amused and anxious to see what he'd say next. He said, "Aight...", and walked to the bus stop about 10 yards from the front of the car where he stood, waiting, finishing his taco, while Tinicia and I were thrown into hysterics. What a fucker.
Dialogues #4
cHiCkAdEe7373: shes not ganna take it well when i move in with him...
Zaevodnik: lol
Zaevodnik: be prepared with a can of mace and a whiffle ball bat
Zaevodnik: i hear they are crucial in any teen-on-parent arsenal
cHiCkAdEe7373: seriously.. i can picture it now.. she'll hold all my stuff hostage or something
cHiCkAdEe7373: lol
How many Peckers in One Dick?
One must understand the complexities of HTML parsing (code-writing)...one must also understand that a system of "standards" is a system that is bound to change as people decide upon other "standards", thereby "destandardizing" these "standards", or that these "standards" are often illogical and fairly idiotic, as in my story.
In my web design class, we have learned many things from various border manipulation, to table nesting, to fucking with font, and THIS is where my story shall begin. Last week, I sat next to Tinicia as I always do, and Mrs. Oden was ranting on HTML tags as she always does, and then she moved to a new topic - the two subsets of font size manipulation, which were to be "absolute" and "relative". Absolute would then be defined as those measurements such as points or inches, and relative as those like percentages, pixels, and a strange unit called "ems". The em is a relative measurement that calculates the height of the surrounding font based on the width and height of the letter "m" in that particular font...at this, my diaphragm contorted in a fit of disbelief and mental unrest. I couldn't help but to think "what type of completely fucked feeble mind felt that such a retardedly inept and backwardly asinine measurement should be accepted into being a "standard" and then actually gaining popularity and us having to cope with that tartiness?!!!" So, in continuance of my mental unrest, I cocked my head right to face Tinicia and said, "You know, that's about as retarded as me going around and, say, measuring everything by the size of my dick...hell, that keyboard has to be about two and a half dicks, right?! That's DKs for short." Of course, she laughed, in that particularly curt and pronounced way she always does, and I discovered THE story that I would be reiterating for the rest of the day...sure enough, I did, and everyone in contact with such my ludicrousity felt the same - "ems" was just as fucked over as "dicks". Today, after a brief mental hiatus from this funny event, I remembered it and delineated it to my parents over dinner. After this, my dad would suggest that there were exactly two and one fourth peckers to one dick...and that's how the American Imperial System of Measurement got started.
Dialogues #3
Zaevodnik: like, i didn't even think about colleges until a few months ago, then i really started to e-mail them some questions...it's not like i expect you have started...but have you thought about what you MIGHT want to do?
wiccan wonder246: yes
wiccan wonder246: not colleges yet
Zaevodnik: ah
wiccan wonder246: but I want to get into editing and publishing
wiccan wonder246: do writing in my spare time
Zaevodnik: yea, see, i want to write and do some pro photography in between job and family
Zaevodnik: editing and publishing of what, exactly?
Zaevodnik: i'd like to edit for Playboy, lol
wiccan wonder246: i haven't figured that out yet exactly
wiccan wonder246: books
wiccan wonder246: lol
Zaevodnik: i can see me now - "yea, johnathan, you see, the vagina isn't properly lit from this angle, you think you can hold the reflector up a little...yea, see, that's perfect, look, you can even see the cervix now"
Zaevodnik: haha
wiccan wonder246: ahhahahaha
wiccan wonder246: oh man
Do You Feel Lonely?
As a first impression of a coffehouse (Julie's Coffee in Williamsport), I guess it's an uninviting first experience to sit down at a table next to an elderly woman who's carrying on a rather irritated conversation with an "invisible companion" in the green-cushioned seat to her left. She even paused in-between her swearing about the college students, talks about health insurance, gas prices, and bills to let the other being speak, nodding her head the while. It was also interesting to note that her eyes would focus on a point in Cartesian space, approximately over the seat where the being would have been positioned if it were enjoying a Venti Caramel Mocha Latte Macchiato. I would say it's fairly unnatural to be able to focus your eyes on something less than a flat surface unless consciously unfocusing one's eyes.
Dialogues #2
Coca-Cola BlaK is the shit! says:
you should really settle this thing you have with her - would be good for everyone
boondocksaint071288 says:
she's probably the antichrist
boondocksaint071288 says:
oh, don't you worry, the next time she does it, I'll say something, cuz she obviously thinks she can take advantage of my quietness
boondocksaint071288 says:
that's the thing about being an introvert. you sometimes get treated like a doormat
Coca-Cola BlaK is the shit! says:
you seem like an autovindictive-paranoiac...chamomile?
Coca-Cola BlaK is the shit! says:
such a shame too...and all dormats do is say "welcome"
Coca-Cola BlaK is the shit! says:
sometimes "fuck off, whore", depending on which appartment complex you're entering
Jtho216: yes but what is the worst could she really do to you anyhow
Zaevodnik: she knows where i live - arson could be a start
LilJsQt: but ever since she washed her phone, i had to put my foot down
LilJsQt: she wanted to get the spilled lip gloss off of it
Zaevodnik: ooooo
LilJsQt: yea the she needed a new one
Zaevodnik: i completely submerged my moto razr in a cooler filled with water for two hours and it still works, lol
Zaevodnik: it was an accident, in case you were wondering
Zaevodnik: people have often asked "why would you do that?!", like it's some sick canadian sport they had never heard of
Fuck the Pink Devil-Bike.
Because it bears telling...a few years ago, when I was in elementary school, I was friends with the neighbor girl, Amanda. Her mom, Kathy, was always into flowers, fartin' around (sound old, huh?) outside all the time with projects and crafts and other mediums through which Satan works. Kathy had suggested that I make some potted-plant-thing for my mom for some holiday - maybe Mother's Day, I can't remember. Because I am not an outside person, because I hate bugs, I decided to go down to the garage (which lay at the bottom and to the right of a very steep [90-degree angle] hill) to get some bug spray for the gnats. To save time, I hopped on this frilly pink child's bike that was laying on the side of this grassy mountain and liften my feet. Immediately, my body was accelerating. To the right was the path I was supposed to take. In the front was the path I was destined to take...an above-ground pool which sat in a large dug-out hole so that there is a gap between the earth and the side of the pool where there exist the pool's supports, surrounded by rocks, and above the ledge existed even larger rocks that ran the perimeter of this side of the pool, perhaps to keep objects from sliding from up-hill down into this ditch. Now, because I was no-longer a four-year-old and had become accostomed to using handle-brakes and because this bike was made for a four-year-old and had
foot brakes, the motor sector of my brain was not able to electricate my lower limbs fast enough to backpedal and I promtly slammed into the 200lb rock. In a rush and a "ZAK!!!" scream heard, I shot over the handlebars, over the rock, into the ditch, with the devil-bike on top of me. I had watched enough of "Emergency 911" and "ER" as a child to know that bleeding from the head was not good, so as soon as I saw the crimson essence leaking from my cranium and onto the pool support, I screamed; probably as though I were the little 4-year-old girl named Jane who was supposed to be riding that bike.
It turns out that I am not the only one to have been abused by this pink devil-bike. Amanda's cousin, Jared, and another female cousin of her's have also had experiences with it, particularly shooting off the driveway and into the woods.
UPDATE: Since these incidents, the bike has been decomissioned and dismanteled. RIP, you bastard.
Who barfs on a radiator?!
Amanda Lose does.
My Purgatorical Home
I was originally going to post this in my main blog, but then I decided that the content was comedic and semi-ironic enough to be graduated from a general position in cyberspace to one more specialized in such dealings - this blog.
The week went well...I had missed the end halves of Wednesday and Thursday, and we had Friday AND Monday off of school because of "Presidents' Day"...whatever that's about, right? I had been evisioning a weekend, flawless in every way (since I had "forgotten" my calculator (oops, no trig homework) and history book (oops, no history homework))...however, this dream was unfairly smashed on Friday morning at around 8:46am. I awoke to the annoying (sorry for the cliched use of this word in this situation) 'howl' of the wind as it pounded at my windows and ripped at the screen doors. If one would have been standing over me, it may have been a fascinating sight...me, with my covers and hands over my head, afraid the windows would [instantaneously] implode all through my fucking bed, lacerating me and my manhood to little more than a few bloody spots on the pillow shams. Deciding this should NOT be the end of me, I jumped out of bed, grabbing some jeans and a shirt and dressed on the stair landing like I just realized I killed someone the night before, hurriedly dressing to flee the scene. My dog quickly rushed to my side, quivering the way she always does. Balloons, balls, the wind, bags...they all terrify her...I mean, it's NOT like she's some poodle or toy dog...she's a good medium size, fairly intimidating compared to a retarded bag from Target. Nonetheless, there she was, shaking furiously against my leg, so I bent down to comfort her, as if she were a little child. The reason WHY I had gotten up so early on a "weekend" was teeth-related. My mom had made, for me, the day before, an appointment with the doctor (not the dentist, surprised?) for a continual sore throat and enlarging [painful] ball on my gum, which both had all but disappeared by that morning and I needed to notify the office that my attendence would not be necessary, as had been my mom's instructions in said case.
Wegman's is the Shit!
::I posted this on a the MySpace group "Wegmans of Williamsport". I must note that it is required of you to work at Wegmans to join this group, which I don't, but I joined anyway because I love Wegmans.::
I have to admit, I don't work at Wegman's, so I'm sorry if I've already pissed off the group administrator...however, I do GENUINELY LOVE Williamsport's Wegmans. I'm in there at least eight times per week and buy at least 4 french demi baguettes for $1.06 a pop. The selection gives me such a boner as I stand facing the 'wall of water,' as I like to call it. By this, I mean the bottled water aisle, which, since January 1st of this year, has been reorganized (yes, people, I fukin' noticed) and revamped with more water than ever...I stand and stare at all the seltzer water like it's going to speak to me and god has told me to always be fully poised to recieve his word from a bottle of bubbly water. I swear to him though, if one more fucker tries to pedestrian his ass in front of my car as I pull in with a craving for a baguette and he's NOT in the cross-walk, he'll become my instant olive tempenade substitute.
Dialogues #1
TinLynne281808: Zorpia.com/Zaevodik You forgot the n before the i
Zaevodnik: ok, i fixed it
Zaevodnik: besser?
TinLynne281808: what?
Zaevodnik: besser = better, in german
TinLynne281808: well you should know that i wouldn't have known that
Zaevodnik: i know, but i think that some things are understandable to an extent, like, i wouldn't expect a reply to "so, was geht ja alles in deinem hood ab, du verfuckte arschaffe?"...i'm not irrational
TinLynne281808: no but your mom is
Zaevodnik: irrational or an arschaffe?
Zaevodnik: lol
TinLynne281808: shut up
TinLynne281808: so about that candy
Zaevodnik: how about i shit on a paper plate and decorate it with chocolate jimmies, eh?
TinLynne281808: umm...I prefer sugar
Zaevodnik: or maybe i'll barf into a bag of jelly belly jelly beans and mix it with creme de menthe and pineapple?!
Zaevodnik: or maybe just some simple fondu
TinLynne281808: isn't that chesse bread?
Zaevodnik: fondu = a melted substance that you dip multiple things into
TinLynne281808: close enough
Zaevodnik: cheese fondu, chocolate fondu...lard fondu
Zaevodnik: whatever you want
Zaevodnik: can dip fruit, bread...even vegetables if you want to be retarded
TinLynne281808: okay but you still didn't answer my question
waitbird: but anywho, tell me about your life man.
Zaevodnik: well, i think mine can't really compare to such freedom
Zaevodnik: as of tonight, i think i will be stalked by my ex-bestfriend-newly-friend's lover
Zaevodnik: he IM'd me to talk about my relationship with her...let's just say i ended up stating that he might be the one with a broken jaw
Zaevodnik: so...other than that, my life right now's pretty boring
Zaevodnik: i'll be in germany for both july and august, staying with Mona...nice name, huh?
Zaevodnik: i've been creating new blogs instantaneously compulsively...also watching the matrix series sporadically
Zaevodnik: coupled with some Alien Quadrilogy DVD marathons...can't help myself
waitbird: wait, so like a love triangle
waitbird: mona? how do you know a girl named mona in germany?
Zaevodnik: there's something about a slimy newborn alien bursting its way out of a human's chest cavity that makes me say, "are those waffles I smell??"
waitbird: (henry miller wrote a hard-core porn series called "Sexus" and it was set in France but the lead character girl was named Mona and she had the clap, so it's always sorta ruined the name Mona for me, but that's a side note)
waitbird: THE MATRIX!!!!!!!!!!!
Zaevodnik: haha @ the clap
waitbird: THE MATRIXES ARE HTE BEST MOVIES EVER.
waitbird: thought i've never heard of alien quadrilogy
Zaevodnik: i use that all the time
waitbird: HAHAHAHA. waffles.
Zaevodnik: ...so i said to him, "how do you expect to put an alpaca in THERE?!" and jake smacked his side and was all like, "with a plunger, you asshole!...how do you think I got the sheep in there?!"
WaNudd: mmk
Zaevodnik: no, seriously
Please, Beat this Girl?
Why is it so funny to watch someone slip and fall? It's quite sadistic to take such a pleasure in the way someone's pain and embarrassment conveys so much pure enjoyment to the other parties surrounding...so much so that we are left gasping for air as the guffaws are let loose and the "slipee's" scoffs follow. Much earlier today, I witnessed one of these events. A prep wearing clogs (which should be the opening line of ALL funny stories), which are now all the rage just because American Eagle thought that whatever looked good on Bavarians in the 1600's should deserve a comeback in contemporary times, walked toward the stairway leading down to the art and music wing of my high school. During the turn that was necessary to enter into the landing of the stairway, the [right] clog so cleanly and smoothly slid out from underneath her flimsy skeleton and caused her heap of bones and muscle matter to collapse into a perfect pile in front of the steps. Now, because this event took place during the transition between first and second period, most high school students would need to rub their eyes to confirm that what had happened actually had...but not me...I was wide awake after having a chat with my Digital Video Production teacher about why I was dropping his class. I promptly laughed and smirked at others I passed in the hall, wishing I could go and kick her the rest of the way down the steps...just for wearing those fuckers. And if that wasn't funny enough, I heard her [still on the floor behind me] say, "That's the SECOND time that's happened today!" Even the tart-cart kids aren't THAT retarded...they learn the FIRST time after burning their tongues on oven-fucking-hot tator tots.
Books - Their [Unrealized] Titles and the Assholes that Read Them
This post will be spent writing in a quite creative sense as I attempt to divulge some fairly interesting titles of books that do not, but should exist...just for my own amusement.
- Of Mice and Mothers of Would-Be Daughters and their Sons that do all the Housework - A Satirical Look into the Hidden World of Perverse and Backward Culture
- Life in Purgatory: With your host, Mr. Watson
- Eighty-Seven Ways to Skin a Cat and Nine Ways to Beat a Dead Horse: The Good Citizen's Guide to Everything
- My World after Childhood: Why Suicide Works
- If Only my Fat Were Gold...A How-To on Homemade Toothpaste
- I'm a God, and Everyone Seems to have a Problem with That - A Look into the Life of an Asshole
- When the Music Stops, Eat. - Surviving an Obese World (With pop-out instructional figures in back)
- Don't Buy This Book, You'll Get AIDS! and Why the Clap is more fun than the HIV
- Oatmeal 101...Fiber for your Shitter
- Digital Photography for the Mentally Retarded Vol. VII - Potatoes and their friends, Tater Tots - A Paradox Worth Chewing On
- When IT Turns Brown - 18 Oven Settings for the Perfect Christmas Turkey
- Suck Me Off, Evildoers! - A Guide to the Opposition of George Bush
- Books are of SATAN! Now Buy this One or Risk the Wrath of Jahova. - And other True Religious Stories for the Soul
- Aftersex Hair and Bottled Water - Why It's Important to Buckle-Up Next Million Miles
- Lucky Charms and Enchiladas: A Trilogy - (1) The official discourse on why Zak Shellenberger should stop making this fucking list and get an L.I.F.E.! (2) Schizophrenia is for Pussies (3) I am Zak Shellenberger, You Prick: And Other Analyzations of Why Zak is an Asshole
Luciferistic Chair
Yes, you heard right. Not satanic, rather Luciferistic. It just so happened that a set of dark red-seated and backed chairs were pissing me off yesterday. One chair in particular was giving me a particularly rough time. It's definitely not that I have a phobia of chairs or something bizzare like that, but when I slid the round table around in study hall in the cafeteria to get the table's legs away from mine, it caught a chair to my left and dragged (woops...almost said "drug") it close to me where it crossed my electromagnecic field and into my space, therefore violating and taunting me so as it were possesed. I pushed the chair back. Still not right. I tried arranging it in different positions: back toward me, away from me, angled from me...none would do. Finally distraught enough, I kicked the fucker to the next table over. A small smile overtook my despaired facial expressions over the direct taunting of that chair. Sarah Grove entered study hall and sat down at the table. Pissed, I said, "You missed my violent harrassment of that chair..." pointing to the one that had been the object of my violation. "...It's Luciferistic." An expression of total insanity doused her mouth and lips as she said "Luciferistic?!". I replied, "That's right, it's a Luciferistic-Nazi-ass-bastard-of-a-bitch chair.
Tart Cart
During homeroom today, in Miss Kibbe's, the funniest thing I've heard this year was uttered. Joulette Runner was sitting by a window that she had opened for her older sister who is allergic to heat and the room was nearing the temperature of an oven. Sitting in front of Joulette was a girl whom I've never talked to because the way her face is layed out, she can be easily mistaken as a bitch. Infront of her was Megan Rhinehardt who is kind of bad but innocently funny and blank. Joulette had her head out the window looking out to see the kids flocking in from the cold and rain when she said, "Oh, look, the retard bus just got here." Megan almost exclaimed, "Don't call it that! That's mean!" The "bitch" then said, "I call it the Tart Cart." very blankly that it was so hilarious. I laughed hard and cried because of it. I'm not sure why it was so funny...maybe it was because I never expected something like that to come of her mouth, but it did, and it made my day. The weather is very schlecht. Speaking of "schlecht", the Germans don't talk about the weather as popularly as a conversation article and subject as the Americans, which is an interesting fact. It is only this year that I've noticed exactly how much of my mood is affected just by if it's overcast during the day or not. And when I say during the day, I MEAN during the day...not the night. I don't care what the weather does at night. Let me explain...it is depressing when the sky is overcast with flat white clouds (stratus) where there is no depth to the sky. If the clouds are grey/gray or black, it is not depressing, rather exciting. And if they are in weird maniacal formations then they are even more exhilerating. If the sun is shining through some patches of storm clouds, it makes me happy to see both together in total harmony, which the human race only gets to experience in nature since we are such a horrible species. We are, by definition, a virus...we go where there are resources, we populate the area densly, use up the resourses, and don't replace them efficiently and time-affectively. We eat away at the world, a pure bacterium. Although we are not prokaryotes, while bateria are, which I have learned in Biology/Biologie. The best days are those when it is very windy but the sun is mosly out with puffy cumulus clouds or even stormy cumulonimbus, which are the f'n best. Thunder and lightning (Donner und Blitzen) are the best forms of "destructive weather." Und jetzt weiss ich nicht wo meine Pupsi ist...hoffe sie wird im Internet bald sein. Ich vermisse sie...
"...I want to heal, I want to feel like I'm close to something real. I want to
find something I've wanted all along: Somewhere I belong..."
Milk Carton
Today is the first day of the editing of this newly-created blog. Lunch was hilarious. Someone, person unknown, hurled a full chocolate milk pint carton at a cement column that had a sign posted on it saying, "Take pride in our school. Pitch in to help keep it clean." The carton exploded with the deep brown milk looking like a fireworks finale. Amazingly, the spray went only parallel of the column and did not douse the boy (fag) sitting directly under the display. Somehow a salad from OIP doesn't exactly sound like a filling dinner, but considering that I've already consumed three warmed pieces of baked bread with butter, a light supper doesn't sound all that bad...a small chef's salad with Italian dressing, rolled up segments of cheese and meat (sounds different having it not "meat and cheese", huh?). The orange soda I have with me on my desk alongside a glass of ice water tastes differently than what it should, almost like chemicals, and is p.p.pissing me off. Sorry about the Porky Pig stutter back there, but it was necessary.
