TOTALLY CHEE PONO OH YEAH!!!

Handicap Hater

2010-01-20T02:07:00.000-08:00

I'm probably going to get a lot of flak for this, but I need to get this off my chest.

I absolutely despise the handicap kid in my geography class. There, I said it. Whew, the relief to finally let it out. I know, there is probably a circle of hell that is especially reserved for people who hate on the disabled but I can't help it, I absolutely cannot stand this guy.

Fig. 1 Not Shown is the 10th Circle: Handicap Haters

If it helps, this guy is not mentally handicapped, just physically. So it's not totally horrible of me... Right?

I consider myself a pretty patient person. It usually takes a lot for someone to bother me. However, this guy manages to push every button it takes to annoy the crap out of me. Actually, "push every button" is putting it lightly. He "continually mashes every button over and over like a kid losing at Street Fighter" is better way to describe it.

Fig. 2 Button mashing works

Here is a list of reasons/justifications to hate this kid's guts:

He is constantly kissing ass- The kid won't shut up with the compliments to the professor. Yes, she did a good job of explaining a few concepts and it's nice that she encourages discussion during lecture, but I think she does not need to be constantly reminded of it. Especially not to the point where it actually interrupts the lectures.
He is constantly bringing up irrelevant points- While the professor was explaining the concept of how space can influence culture, he went on a tangent about geometry and three-dimensional space. He stopped the class for 15 minutes. This is something he does at least two or three times every lecture.
He is constantly interrupting other people while they are speaking- He even interrupts the professor and raises his voice over her. I think the professor is ready to throw him out of class, but is afraid he'll play the handicap-card on her.
He is constantly playing the handicap-card- Depending on the disability, I'm not going to treat a disabled person any differently than I would a normal person. If you're mentally competent, why should I talk to you like I would talk to a child?
His aide is constantly dressing in really gross, tight-fighting clothes- I actually can't really hate him for this one, I don't think it's his fault or that he has any control over what his aide chooses to wear. She is a bigger woman, and for some reason she wears tights that show everything. EVERYTHING. The woman is clearly in her forties, but chooses to dress like a 19-year-old. It is gross, and I can't help but feel that if it wasn't for the handicap kid, I wouldn't have to be subjected to yucky, old camel toe every Tuesday and Thursday morning.

Fig. 3 Old camel toe

As I review my reasons for disliking this guy, I'm beginning to wonder... What if this guy IS mentally disabled? CRAP. I'm totally going to Hell.

Nemesis: Part Deux

2009-09-10T15:37:00.000-07:00

Now for an update on Din-din, the puppy (demon hound) that has been making my life miserable. Let me start by saying that I really do hate that dog.

I can add "wrecked the truck" to the list of offenses this dog has committed.

While my sister was driving Din-din to the vet, Din-din decided to jump on her lap and start playing. This resulted in my sister losing control and swiping a telephone pole. Fortunately, my sister is fine. I can't say the same for the truck.

I know it's ridiculous to blame the dog for this. My sister should've had the common sense to put the dog in the truck bed instead of keeping it in the front with her. However, I can't help but think that this dog is seriously out to get me now. Next thing you know, it'll be chewing my brake lines in an attempt to murder me and make it seem like an accident.

I Can't Drive 55

2009-09-06T03:00:00.000-07:00

Last night was my first speeding ticket. Shocking, I know.

I've never considered myself a speedy driver. I don't follow speed limits to a tee, but I'm never to the point where someone can't overtake me. In fact, most of my friends call me a "granny driver." Imagine my surprise when I got pulled over.

I was just leaving Honoka'a and on my way back home to Hilo. I had just passed the gas station and figured that it was safe to go a bit faster. Up ahead I could see the the "Minimum 40" sign, so I didn't think anything.

Damn. I knew I should've made my sister drive home.

After blue lights lit up behind me, I immediately pulled over. At this point the "Minimum 40" sign was right in front of me, so I thought I'd been in the 55 zone. I had no idea as to what I could've done wrong.

I figure if I'm nice and don't give the the officer a hard time he'll let me off with a warning, it's late and the streets are empty. I'm pretty sure there are other things he'd rather be doing. I give the cop my license and registration and he tells me that he pulled me over for speeding.

Speeding? Seriously?

I apologize. My sister who is sitting next to me in the passenger seat is in disbelief. I can't believe it either, but I know flipping out is the worst thing I could do.

The officer starts talking to me. Asks me where I'm from and if I'm employed. I explain to him that I'm from Hilo and that I'm not currently employed, I'm a full-time student at the UH.

And then he hands me the ticket. $122.

Why would someone ask another person if they are employed and then immediately after finding out that they're not, write them a fine for $122? That just makes you look like a prick.

I know that being unemployed doesn't excuse someone from breaking laws and facing consequences. But really, if you're going to fine someone, don't get all buddy-buddy with them and ask them about their employment status.

The officer gave me three options to deal with my ordeal.
1). Pay the fine.
2). Write a letter to the judge to get it contested.
3). Show up to court.

I really don't want pay $122, especially when I don't believe that I did anything wrong. I'm not going to write a letter that will probably not even get read by the judge himself. I'm not going to show up to court. The idea just freaks me out, especially knowing how passive aggressive I am. I'd probably just nod my head to whatever the judge said.

Instead I have three alternatives to the options that were given to me.

1). Incite a race riot.

It's clear to anyone that the only reason why I got the ticket was because of my Portuguese heritage. And if it wasn't my Portuguese heritage, then it was my Filipino. And if it wasn't that, it was because I'm Haole. And if wasn't that, it's definitely because I'm a weird mixture of Portuguese, Filipino, and Haole.

Surely, the officer was thinking to himself, "Damn hybrid kid. I don't even know what ethnicity he is. Everything is his fault. I'm going to write him a ticket."

Rodney King ain't got nothing on me.

2). Sue the County for sexual harassment.

With the way the officer was making eye contact with me, I'm sure I could. The way his eyes met mine, it was if he was undressing me in his mind. I know he was imagining the solid abs and chiseled chest that were underneath my shirt. I'm definitely traumatized from all the eye contact he was making with me. And it wouldn't be about the money, it'd be about keeping that monster off of the streets and preventing this from happening again.

Pervert.

3). Go into exile in a foreign country.

I could leave my life here and become that mysterious white guy that lives in some far-off exotic place. The locals would make up stories about what I did and why I'm living amongst them. No one would know my name or about my past. I'd keep a few pictures from my past life in my cabin, only to have it found by a local curious about my past and further the mystery that enshrouds me.

I would have a job taking rich tourists on adventures and have a monkey for a pet. The woman I love but left behind would eventually track me down and beg me to go back home with her. Instead, we'd go on adventures together and end up settling down and raising our family in this country.

Mysterious white guy in Africa...

...Mysterious white guy in South Asia

...And really bad movie.

Nemesis

2009-08-23T11:26:00.000-07:00

nem⋅e⋅sis [nem-uh-sis]

1.	something that a person cannot conquer, achieve, etc.: The performance test proved to be my nemesis.

2.	an opponent or rival whom a person cannot best or overcome.

While I don't really consider myself much of an animal person, there has never been an animal that I hated. Until now.

I remember watching "It's Me or the Dog" on Animal planet and thinking that those people were silly for letting an animal strain their relationships. Now, I totally understand.

Meet Din-din. She is my nemesis. Never in my life have I had so much hate for something so tiny. She may be cute and fluffy, but this dog is Satan's puppy. This dog makes Cujo seem like Lassie.

This dog has eaten a number of my books. It has begun eating the furniture in my house. It has peed on my laundry. It has peed on my bed. It has peed on my school bags. It has peed in numerous spots in my room. It has pooped in numerous spots in my room. The dog literally goes every where except for the puppy pad or outside of the house. The dog bites everyone. The dog never shuts up.

And now, the day before school, Din-din has pissed on my text books for this semester.

I am ready to set this dog on fire.

When Din-din first arrived at my house I was upset. We already have one dog eating the house, we didn't need another. And then I saw her sleeping in her box, being quite possibly the cutest puppy I've ever seen. For the first week, all she did was sleep. I thought to myself, "How could I be upset with something that cute?"

Now it's a fight for territory and I'm losing. I've done everything short of pissing all over my stuff to mark my area. This dog just has it in for me.

Remember all those cutesy dog movies like Beethoven, Marley and Me, and Turner and Hooch? Yeah, not so funny any more. Those movies weren't comedies, they were warnings.

In Japan, Marley and Me was actually a horror film.

Oh Summer Where Art Thou?

2009-08-02T16:23:00.000-07:00

It feels like I've just gotten out of a six week coma.

The last six weeks have been spent at the UH dorms as a residential manager for the Upward Bound program.

It's funny how I've started as a shy teenage student six years ago and now I'm managing 90 high school kids running around the dorms. If someone were to tell me that I'd be a manager for Upward Bound back when I was a student, I would've laughed in their face. It's funny how the world works.

The last six weeks have also been the most stressful. I had my first panic attack. I found my first grey hairs.

I had to send kids home. I lost a worker. I literally lost a student. I should've lost another worker, one who deserved to have been fired, but for some reason my supervisors did not follow through with my recommendations and would not explain to me their reasoning. There was a lot of misunderstanding and confusion.

Despite all of the bad stuff, I feel this program has still made a difference in the lives of the students. I feel there is more we could do and somethings that program should pull back from so that the students could learn for themselves.

At the end of the program, students did not want to leave. I feel like we did our job. Hopefully, next summer we can do an even better job.

Work has Been Invading my Dreams

2009-06-06T10:25:00.000-07:00

I work for an Academic College Prep program that has a summer school/dorm program each summer. It's a chance for high school students to get a taste of college by taking summer school and living at the university dorms. Quite recently I have been promoted to the Resident Manager position for work this summer. I'm pretty stoked because it means I get paid more and I get an opportunity to put leadership/managerial experience on my resumé.

However, lately I have been having a lot of worries about messing up as an RM and ruining summer for the 92 high school students that I will be in charge of. Underneath the calm facade I throw on at work is a jumbled mess of fear and insecurities. I guess that I've been having so much stress in my work life, now it's starting to spill into my dreams.

For a good laugh and some much needed stress-relief, here are some of the dreams I have been having about work.

Dream 1:
The Summer Residential Program has started and on the first day one of my RAs is killed. His death is very mysterious and his body is never found.

Instead of canceling the program, my boss states that, "we can't let a little thing like this sideline us." And so the program continues on. However, each week more and more students and RAs begin to disappear. Everybody is depending on me to find them and I'm like, "I did not sign up for this! Get me out of here!"

Finally it's down to just me and a handful of students. I'm still clueless as to why my boss has yet to cancel the program. So I'm going to bed when all of a sudden the final handful of students burst into my room screaming about how Julius, the RA who died on the first day, had attacked them.

"Impossible! Julius is dead!" I tell them. Then Julius appears holding this huge, ridiculous knife. He just stands there, laughing like a madman.

They could totally make a movie out of the stuff I dream about.

My dream ends with me and my students being chased by a knife wielding back-from-the-dead RA.

Dream 2:

The Summer Residential Program has started and right off the bat there is one particular student that I hate. I absolutely cannot stand this student. Words cannot express how much I loathe this kid. And I don't know why! I just know that I hate the poor guy.

This kid is a tall, redhead with a fro and pasty white skin. Every time I saw this kid, I just wanted to punch him in the face.

So the Summer Program is rolling along and we are escorting the students from the dorms to one of the lecture halls. This redhead that I can't stand and his roommate are at the back of the pack of students and are just taking their time. I'm in a big rush to get the students to where they belong and so when I see the two of them just goofing off I totally lose my cool.

I start screaming at them to hurry up and they just roll their eyes. I'm yelling at them, "Hurry up! We're leaving you two! Goodbye!!" hoping to get them moving a little faster. Instead, the redhead with a fro and his roommate just turn around and start heading back to their dorms. This just pushes me over the edge.

I run up to them and I tell them to go and pack their bags because I am kicking them out of the program. My boss magically shows up and is telling me about how I need to give them a 10 day probation period before sending them home. I tell my boss that he can forget the probation, because if they don't go right now I'm going to lose all self-control. So while I'm having this argument with my boss, the redhead with a fro decides to set the dorms on fire.

So far, I don't know of any redheads with fros that are actually in the program in reality. If there is, I hope they decide to go on a family vacation instead of enrolling in the Summer Residential Program.

Holding Doors Open (Doing my Part to Stop Feminism)

2009-05-12T22:45:00.000-07:00

Sorry that I haven't updated in a while, things have been pretty crazy.

Originally, this was going to be a post about the night my grandmother died. Writing it down really did help, however, I don't think I need to share those details.

Then, I decided that this should be a post about all my thoughts and feelings about my grandmother being gone. Once again it helped and I feel I don't need to share those details either.

So instead, you get this. Enjoy :)

About three to four weeks ago I went to Borders to go find a book about automotive repair. I'm at the entrance to the store and I hold the door open for the woman behind me. Before entering, she stops and just looks at me and then rolls her eyes.

"Women aren't as meek and helpless as you men think we are, you know," she tells me.

"I'm just trying to be courteous, no offense," I tell her. She rolls eyes and stands there. She stood there for an eternity before I realized that she wanted me to enter first so that she could open the door for herself. I entered and laughed it off.

Now fast forward to today.

Today I took my youngest brother to the movies. As I'm about to enter the theater, I hold the door open for two older women who were behind me.

"Oh my goodness, chivalry is not dead!" one of them exclaims. Both of them are just so impressed with me.

I don't think chivalry really ever left. Just like sexy.

One of them grabs my arm and tells me, "I'm kidnapping you from your girlfriend, she is never gonna get you back." Both of them proceed to then tell me about how they rarely ever see young men with manners and how my girlfriend is the luckiest girl in Hilo.

The situation was pretty awkward and depressing--those ladies could not stop touching me and would not shut up about my lucky girlfriend, even after telling them I had no girlfriend.

I'm just trying to be courteous. I know what it's like to walk into a door just as it closes because some jerk decides to hold it open for those few moments that I'm walking towards the door and then let it go without any warning. Man or woman, old or young, I don't care--walking into doors suck. I'm not trying to put progressive women into their place and I'm not trying to be chivalrous, I just don't want my door slamming into anybody's face.

Just trying to prevent this from happening.

Action Movie Saturday Night!!!

2009-04-26T00:26:00.000-07:00

Saturdays are strictly devoted to over-the-top action movies in the Carvalho home. So instead of watching Die Hard for the gazillionth time, my brother and I opted to go watch the new Jason Statham flick, Crank: High Voltage.

The movie was awesome. It was beyond awesome. There was no plot or any character development-- it was just gratuitous amounts of action.

But what made the movie such an experience was what happened outside of the movie.

It all started with my brother and I walking to the theater. As we're waiting for cars to pass so that we can cross the street, a lifted truck passes and the passenger is sticking his little head out and screaming bloody murder at my brother. The guy just shouts, calling my brother out and saying how he's going to mess us up, but in much more colorful language.

Not quite what I meant by "colorful language."

As soon as we get into the mall I ask my brother if he knew the guy.

"Who?" he asks.

"The guy that was calling you out because you were staring him down," I tell him.

Turns out that my brother was spazzing out the whole time we were crossing the street. He was totally oblivious to the guy calling him out. It was just our dumb luck that the same direction that my brother was staring off into nothing was also the same direction of this guy. For the rest of the evening I was constantly checking over my shoulder for the guy.

So we finally make it to the movie. Everything is going good. It finally gets to the climax of the film and I can hear screaming behind me.

My initial thought is, wow, the surround sound here is amazing. But it turns out that it isn't surround sound. An actual fight broke out in the seats behind me. Some lady is amping out on some guy. As the violence in the movie escalates, so does this lady. It was pretty crazy having an actual fight behind you while you got the sounds of heavy metal, gunshots, and shouting in the background.

Prince Kuhio Stadium Cinemas surround sound

Now, Crank: High Voltage is definitely not the greatest action movie ever. However, this was one of the few movies were I felt I got the FULL cinematic experience.

We were just discussing the Ideal-Gas Law...

2009-04-16T11:42:00.000-07:00

This was no pV=nRT.

Physics class had just started and I had leaned over to get my textbook out of my bag. Just as I reached into my bag I felt the rumblings of a fart coming on. No big deal I had thought to myself, I can just let this one pass silently.

However, instead of the quiet whisper of passing gas, a thunderous roar was unleashed. Even after it was done, I could still feel it reverberating off of the classroom walls.

This was what I was aiming for...

...But I got this instead

The professor was stunned, only his shiny gray ponytail moved for those few moments. A few of the students turned their heads. There was only silence. I sat as still as possible.

Within a minute, life began to return to the classroom. The professor returned to his lecture and everyone else went back to writing their notes or texting. That was when the smell settled in.

For a second time the professor paused the lecture. He just stood silently in front of the class, as if he had lost his train of thought. Soon enough the smell had diffused through the entire classroom and everyone knew what was going on. I looked around and tried to act as if I too had no clue as to where the smell was coming from.

This is what happened when the smell settled in.

Soon enough the smell faded away and we returned to discussing pressure-volume diagrams and the ideal-gas law.

What surprises me is how no one said anything, there were no laughs or any outcries of disgust. There was just a silence that hovered over the classroom.

I haven't been this embarrassed by a fart since elementary school.

The Fag Raptor Rides Again

2009-04-07T00:51:00.000-07:00

June 28th, 2009 will be my first ever half-marathon.

The goal has always been to become a marathon runner, this half-marathon feels like I'm actually making progress towards my goal.

I really need to do something about my wrists.

Cat AIDS

2009-04-01T23:22:00.000-07:00

Last week my uncle took his cat into the veterinarian's because it has been very sickly. The vet's first impression of what was ailing my uncle's cat? Cat AIDS.

According to my uncle's veterinarian, there is an epidemic of cat AIDS going around the Big Island.

Seriously?

Were all the cats on the Big Island sharing needles and having unprotected sex? Well, technically, yes all of the feral cats were going around and having sex and that is how it has been spreading. To the best of my knowledge, cats haven't gotten around to using condoms yet.

Claws: makes opening condoms a bitch and one of the main causes of unprotected cat sex.

When my uncle told me about Larry's (the cat) visit to the vet and what the vet was concerned about, I couldn't help but laugh.

I started to imagine how Larry could have possibly aquired AIDS. I pictured Larry has a slick Wall Street business cat during the 80's, experimenting with heroin and other drugs. After wall street took a dive in '88, Larry was out on the street and forced to maintain his habit by becoming a gay prostitute in Los Angeles. After many years of this kind of lifestyle, Larry eventually found God in a soup kitchen, became born-again, and eventually settled in my uncle's family. And now, after all these years, the sins of his past has finally come back to haunt poor Larry.

After imagining this, I also began to imagine cat AIDS on a much more global scale. I began to picture the cat AIDS epidimic in Africa, gay cats finding out that their life partner is infected, sex education in cat middle school. At that point I shook my head and realized my imagination was getting out of hand.

And then my uncle mentioned that his vet is also worried that Larry might instead be suffering from cat Leukemia.

Chemotherapy sucks.

Any Way You Want It

2009-03-31T02:40:00.000-07:00

For those of you following (which is like one person, if my blogger dashboard is correct) I've been flirting with many different blogging avenues. For a little while I was going through my facebook notes, but I hated that because of it's lack of personality. Then I went back to my old myspace, but that isn't working out because of the number of high school students that visit my page. I really don't want to be one of those idiots you hear about on the news getting fired over something stupid that they posted on myspace. From now on my myspace will be more kid friendly and aimed for the students I work with. Here on blogger, I'll be able to post more adult topics and not have to worry about one of my students getting their panties in a bunch whenever I drop an F-Bomb.

Now to the topic on hand.

The Waikaloa Journey Concert. It was amazing. Never has there been so much Filipino pride, marijuana, and cougar desperation packed into the Queen's Court at Waikaloa. Plus, I got to punch dance to "Separate Ways." It was amazing.

What really impressed me was Arnel Pineda. I knew he was good, but I didn't realize he was that good. I was really amazed with how cool he was. He kept running through the crowd and bringing people on stage. He ran up to us folks in the general admission seats so that he could do running high-fives. Running high-fives. He even sings better than Steve Perry. Arnel Pineda is my new hero.

Awesome.

The only un-amazing part of the show was the stupid couple that was next to me practically the whole time. I wish I recorded some video of them so that I could show the world how crazy they were. I'm pretty sure that alcohol wasn't the only thing in their system. When they started to dance and grind up on each other, I was grossed out, but didn't mind too much because I could just look the other way and ignore it. Then, they started to get all kinky. After "Lights," they lady took her heels off and started sticking it in places it didn't belong, namely her boyfriends ass. It's pretty hard to ignore someone getting sodomized by their girlfriend's high heel. Then when I made an attempt to move away, the lady started hitting me with her heels! I've never wanted to punch someone so badly in my life. Luckily for the both of us, her boyfriend decided to go to the beer garden and she followed after him.

Despite that, the show was still totally amazing.

If you listen closely during the part the camera gets all shaky, you can hear me say, "You're hitting me with your shoe."

What it Boils Down to

2009-01-18T23:55:00.000-08:00

I DO know there is a lot more to life than being one step ahead of someone else.

Hot Date

2009-01-17T10:51:00.000-08:00

Since moving back to Hilo, I hardly get invited to parties anymore. I usually jump at each opportunity I get to get crunk. But last night, for the first time in my life I turned down a party to stay home and do calculus.

The friend who invited me couldn't believe that I had turned down her night of partying it up for a night of getting down and cutting rug with some calculus.

"If you have a date tonight, you don't have to lie about it," she told me.

The sad thing is, I wasn't lying. I actually looked forward to my calculus. I had a hot date with calculus.
I would like to think it's a sign of maturity, but it is probably sign that I'm just a big jerk.

Black Friday/Thanksgiving Edition!!

2008-11-28T11:13:00.001-08:00

Now that I've finally awaken from my food coma and the rest of my family has joined the angry hordes of holiday zombies a' la 28 days later at the mall, I would like to take this opportunity to share what I'm thankful for this holiday season.

1. My Organic Chemistry Final Exam- My professor is willing to wipe my slate clean and give me whatever grade I get on my final exam as my final overall grade. Logically, this should scare me because if I have been doing so terrible on all my exams leading up to the final, what chance do I have of doing well on the final? It's just nice to know that I have at least one final shot at redemption in this class.

2. My Dysfunctional family- My dad likes to tell people that our family like to "put the fun in dysfunction." Most of the time I cringe when my dad says that, especially to complete strangers. But somewhere in between the great grandma that steals and hides the deserts, the buttload of children running around, and the other grandma that chain smokes and doesn't visit because she is too busy playing World of Warcraft... Something happens. I'm not quite sure what it is, but it is pretty amazing.
3. Online Shopping- I just recently learned that the Monday after Thanksgiving is called "Cyber Monday," and it has nothing to do with instant messaging someone about your genitalia. With a name as ominous as "Black Friday," I tend to avoid the mall after Thanksgiving and until after the holidays are over. Thanks to the internet and websites such as thinkgeek.com, my friends don't get to suffer lame gifts because of my fear of large crowds and zombie apocalypses.

A Comparison of Graffiti in Male and Female Restrooms at the UHH Library

2008-11-28T10:33:00.000-08:00

Bathroom graffiti is commonplace among many of the restrooms at the university of Hawaii at Hilo Campus. You can find at least one example of graffiti in each of the restrooms. For this paper, I will be comparing the graffiti in the men's and women's restrooms in the campus library.

Before I began my examination of the library's restrooms, I spoke to Robert Yogi, the student supervisor for the UHH Library. Of the four years that he has been an employee at the library, there has only been one or two complaints about graffiti in the restrooms. He told me that the majority of the graffiti is not found in the restrooms, but actually on the desks in the first and third floor; places that have the least student traffic. When asked about which genders' restrooms has the most instances of graffiti, "Boys, definitely the boys," he replied.

"It's actually not really too big a deal," Yogi says. "A majority of the time that graffiti get reported, we clean it that day. It'll be as simple as rubbing off pencil scratches. The only thing that gives us a problem is when the students mark up the grout. We're not able to clean that off unless we replace the grout."

And so began my examination of the restrooms. I began with the third floor restrooms and worked my way to the bottom floor. For the women's restrooms, I had a female friend photograph any instance of graffiti.

In the library's third floor men's restroom (Fig. 1), I found graffiti next to the toilet paper dispenser in the handicap stall. I have been unable to translate the phrase or discover it's significance.
Fig. 1

In the second floor men's restroom (Fig. 2), I found another instance of graffiti, next to the toilet paper dispenser in the handicap stall. Written in pencil was, "Tap Feet 4 BJ." However, tapping one's feet did not summon anyone with the initials of BJ.

Fig. 2.

On a more serious note however, I was shocked to find graffiti advertising a sexual act on the second floor of the library. The second floor has the most student traffic and faculty. There is a greater risk of being caught.

In the first floor men's restroom (Fig. 3), someone had taken a pencil and shaded in a bit of grout on the wall in the handicap stall. What is particularly interesting to me about the first floor restroom is that of all the bathrooms, it has the least amount of graffiti. Because of the library's student supervisor's observation of desk graffiti, I had predicted that the first and third floor restrooms would have the most graffiti.

Fig. 3.

As I also predicted, there was no bathroom graffiti in the any of the women's restrooms. However, of interest, someone in the women's restroom had taken a sign asking users, "Please do not flush pads and tampons... Dispose in trash can" and ripped it in half and folded it up (Fig. 4). Maybe someone was having a bad day?

Fig. 4.

Only the men's restrooms had graffiti. In all of the cases, graffiti was located in the handicap stalls, near the toilet paper dispensers. What does the provenience of the graffiti tell us? One way to interpret the placement of graffiti is that the males who use the restroom and participate in graffiti, do so while sitting on the toilet. Handicap stalls may be chosen because of the amount of space available.

What does the lack of graffiti in female restroom's tell us about female restroom habits. It is obvious that females do not have the same thing in mind as males while they are sitting on the toilet, or that they forget to bring a pencil with them every time they go the handicap stall.

The next step would be to survey students and get their responses about restroom graffiti. It would be interesting to see what the demographics are for people who participate in restroom graffiti, but for now, I can only speculate as to what processes are involved in restroom graffiti.

Election Bash!!!

2008-11-03T20:12:00.000-08:00

The following is an actual conversation between three girls that were walking next to me this morning on my way to Psych 100

Girl 1: So who are you voting for?

Girl 2: I dunno yet. Palin seems like a really sweet lady, but McCain is old. He's like HELLA old.

Girl 3: Yeah, what the hell is up with his arms? He's weird.

Girl 2: Hehehehe.

Girl 3: I'm voting for Obama. He's sooo friggin' hot.

Girl 1: SHUT UP!!

Girl 3: Well for a president, you gotta admit he's pretty damn hot.

Girl 2: Yeah, he's got that Tiger Woods thing going on. I think it's sexy.

Girl 1: Well, I think I'm going to vote for Obama.

Girl 2: I'm going to vote for Obama.

Girl 3: Haha, poor wrinkly McCain.

Why I have a C in Organic Chemistry

2008-10-13T22:08:00.001-07:00

In order to go on with my chemistry career, I need to pass my first semester of organic chemistry with a B. Currently I'm right below the B mark with a 77%. A B is between 78-89%. It's driving me crazy. I spend almost 5 hours every night studying organic chemistry. I study for organic chemistry so much, that I'm not able to really study as much as I should for my other classes.

However, today I was going over my lecture notes and I think I've found why I may not be doing so hot.

Click on the picture to see the entire page of notes I took in during lecture.

Crazy Recurring Dream

2008-10-01T00:16:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had this dream. I've had this dream like about four times already, it's pretty crazy. I'm not sure of what the significance of it is supposed to be, or if it even has any meaning, but whatev.

So, in my dream, I'm in this field and it's snowing. I feel like I'm a little kid and I'm having the greatest time of my life. I'm going nuts. First I start making snow angels. Then I make a snowman, and it's the greatest snowman ever built. I get into snowball fights with other kids who seem to be having the best time of their lives also. I feel so happy, that there is this warmth in my stomach and I just feel like nothing can bring me down. At this moment, I look down at the snow and for some reason I want to eat it. It looks so fluffy and light, that I feel like it will be the most delicious thing ever. And so I grab a whole handful and just as I'm about to take a bite... I wake up.

In real life, I have played in the snow and tasted it. It tastes like ice, which isn't really a surprise. However, every time I have this dream, I feel like the snow will be the most satisfying thing I will ever eat, but I never get to taste it because I always wake up before I get a chance to. It's driving me crazy.

What I've currently been devoting my time to

2008-09-29T19:32:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, it's been almost a gazillion years since I've last updated. I'll get better, I promise.

So here are my two lame excuses as to why I've been so busy.

Lame excuse #1: I'm taking Organic Chemistry.

Usually, I can breeze through my classes with little trouble. Before organic chemistry, I honestly thought I was a genius. Seriously. I thought I was some kind of chemistry prodigy. But apparently, in order to pass organic chemistry, I'm going to have to do a little more than flash cards. So if I'm not sleeping or eating or working, I'm usually doing organic chemistry, or my lame excuse #2.

Lame excuse #2: I've been compiling a list of witty one-liners to use in case I ever get into a fight with somebody and I win. Example: If I punched someone out and they fell into an ice chest, the appropriate thing to say would be, "You just got iced." You can find cheesy one-liners like this in a lot of the 80's and early 90's action movies. Below are some of my favorites:

- Lethal Weapon 2: Danny Glover shoots a guy with a nail gun and says, "you got nailed."

- Die Hard: Bruce Willis shoots a guy and says "Yippe Ki yay, mother********"

-True Lies: Arnold Schwarzenegger fires a missile with a terrorist hanging on it and says, "You're fired."

This may seem like an easy list to make, however there are many situations I could fight someone and win, but not be able to come up with a great witty one-liner. For example, what if I punched someone and I knock them out and they fall into a hole. What does one say for that? "You got holed?"

Actually, the appropriate would be, "Hole in one." But what if I wasn't able to think of something like that quick enough? There is only a small window of opportunity. If I say my witty one-liner too late, then I'll risk looking retarded and may become the loser of the fight even though I bested the other guy physically.

So those are my excuses. Hopefully I'll be able to update more often in the coming days.

Death in the Family

2008-08-21T02:04:00.000-07:00

Honestly, I'm not much of a dog person. Dogs are stinky, poop all over the place, and eat all of my important documents whenever they get a chance too. However, there was a dog that did hold a special place in my heart and his name was Dan.

Dan was a doberman that my mom had found wondering the streets of upper Puna. We had nursed him to health and took him into our family. He was also retarded. I don't mean to sound harsh, but saying that Dan was retarded is putting it lightly. He would often get his head stuck in the fence and manage to bite his ears in the process, an act I originally had thought was physically impossible. He would also often eat his own poop and poop in his food bowl on top of the food we had put in there, as if his poop accentuated the taste of the wal-mart brand of dog food we gave him. Dan would also make scary coughing noises that sounded like an alien popping from someone's chest. Supposedly, those scary coughing noises that Dan made, also scared the kids living next door to us.

Unfortunately, Dan passed on yesterday morning due to unknown causes. I will miss his hilarious shows of retardation. More importantly, I will also miss his companionship during the times I spent with him, pulling his head out of our fence and bandaging his ears.

And sadly, as I comb through collections of family photos and my computer, it seems that during the 5+ years that Dan was a member of my family, we have never took a picture of him. Weird.

A little bit of what I do at work

2008-08-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

So I guess I'm something of a success story at my workplace, they asked me to write a short essay about how my job has impacted my life. I hope you guys enjoy :)

Confessions from a Reformed Momma’s Boy

As a child, I was what most refer to as a “momma’s boy.” You know the type- socially inept little boys that can’t go anywhere without holding their mother’s hand. Whenever I needed something, my mother was the first person I’d go to. If something didn’t go my way, I’d tell my mom. If I was in an environment where I didn’t know a lot of people, I made sure my mom came along with me. If there was paperwork or forms I needed to fill out, I made sure my mom was on top of it. Most teenagers spent Friday nights hanging out with their friends at sleepovers and causing innocent mischief. In my pre-Upward Bound days, I spent my Friday nights hanging out with my parents.

Before I entered high school, I was unmotivated, completely dependant on others, and just plain lazy. I did what I needed to get by, anything else I felt was unnecessary. I felt college was for over achievers, you know, the kids you secretly hated for getting the gold stars next to their names in 3^rd grade. My logic at the time was, “why do I need to go to college when I can just live with my Mom for the rest of my life?”

Well it turns out that my Mom was not so keen on me living in her basement for the rest of my life. Fortunately for her (and for me), she discovered the Upward Bound program.

Upward Bound introduced me to a whole new world. It opened my eyes to opportunities I never knew were possible. I was introduced to colleges, being independent, and the motivation to want to do my best. Upward Bound gave me the skill and tools I needed to become an independent and productive individual.

After graduating from high school, I left Hilo (and my Mom) to attend college at Chaminade University of Honolulu with over $12,000 in scholarships. Upward Bound had prepared me for my life in the dorms, studying, and financial planning. Now I’m back in Hilo, entering my junior year of college at the University of Hawaii at Hilo majoring in Chemistry with an emphasis in Health Sciences.

So if I had learned so much from being an Upward Bound student, what am I doing back in Upward Bound!?

I want to take this opportunity to give back to the program that has given so much to me. I want to teach students in Upward Bound all of the skills and traits I was taught when I was a student. I want to be a mentor and a role model for students.

And the funny thing is, even though I’m no longer a student, Upward Bound is still a learning experience. Being a Residential Advisor this past 2008 Summer Academy, the students of Upward Bound have taught me many valuable lessons in leadership, responsibility, and accountability. I look forward to continuing my time with Upward Bound and helping students this coming academic year

Something that has been bothering me

2008-07-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

This has been irking me for quite some time now. Usually, it takes a lot to get under my skin. However, congratulations to this guy. This man has succeeded in something very few can do.

I am talking about the Shamwow Man.

Every time I see his commercial I just get the unbelievable urge to destroy something. He's got this whole cocky persona/Jersey tough guy thing going on, and it doesn't make me want to buy a shammy. If I did buy a shammy, it would be only to wet it, then twist it up and whip him in the face with it.

Lessons You Learn From Work

2008-07-03T11:10:00.000-07:00

This summer I've been working full time as a residential adviser at the university for a program that takes high school students into the dorms and provides them college life experiences. I love my job, it is very rewarding and fulfilling. However, working with high school kids has taught me one very important lesson.

NEVER TELL THEM GHOST STORIES NO MATTER HOW MUCH THEY BEG FOR IT.

One of the kids asked me for a ghost story, and so I told him one of my shorter ones about the dorms (You can find this story and more at weirdhawaii.com, my other blog that my girlfriend and I devote to Hawaii ghost stories).

What started as a ghost story about a pillow that flew across the room, turned into a story about a girl that hung herself in the girls' dorm. The next thing I knew, students were crying and telling me that they can't go to sleep because they feel an "evil presence" in their rooms. I was up until the wee hours trying to convince students that the dorms isn't haunted. And of course, some students weren't helping by going around and spreading more stories and sneaking up behind people and scaring them.

Last night was one of the longest nights of my life. I will never again tell anybody under the age of 17 a ghost story.

Cankles!?

2008-06-17T21:39:00.000-07:00

So, during my last visit to Kauai, my ever so wonderful girlfriend pointed out that I had cankles. I have to disagree with her. I believe my ankles are beautifully defined, and there is a definite distinction between my calf and my ankle.

The only way to decide this, would be a dance off to the death.

But because I love my girlfriend very much, I've decided on a much more peaceful way to settle this. I'm going to post a poll on this site, and viewers (that's you buddy!) can decide on whether or not I have cankles. Below is a clear picture of what a cankle is.

Note: This is NOT a picture of my ankle--this belongs some other poor soul. This picture is to compare my ankle to a certified cankle ankle.

And of course, for your viewing pleasure, here are some wonderful photos of my very own ankle.

Also, you can check out the cankle debate at the Ukulele Underground forum and at the HawaiiThreads forum see what the people there have to say.

Tag- Youtube Edition

2008-06-13T09:18:00.000-07:00

I got tagged by my always wonderful girlfriend. Be sure to check her video out also!

Fast Food Review #2

2008-06-02T22:55:00.001-07:00

McDonald's Southern Style Chicken Sandwich

Prior to the Southern Style Chicken Sandwich, I would order my chicken sandwiches with pickles and mustard. When I discovered that the Southern Style Chicken Sandwich included pickles, I thought, "Genius! Now I no longer have to annoy the workers behind the McDonald's counter with my special order."

However, the southern style chicken sandwich is anything but genius. It tastes more like a dumb redneck idea gone horribly awry.

I believe what really kills this sandwich is the ridiculous amount of butter used on the buns. With my first bite, I was expecting to taste the wonderful combination of pickles and chicken. Instead, I tasted the not so wonderful combination of butter, pickles, and greasy chicken. After my first bite, I had hot butter dripping down my chin and burning everything on it's way down.

After digesting half of the sandwich, I could feel my arteries beginning to clog. My chest tightened and was ready to throw in the towel. I took a couple of bites to cement my opinion on the sandwich, and then I threw it away.

Final thoughts: I'm better off just ordering a regular chicken sandwich with mustard and pickles. I don't see how anyone could enjoy this sandwich, even the people from the South.

Jun ken po

2008-05-28T01:50:00.000-07:00

Ok, I know the Big Island can be a backwards place at times, but I know we aren't totally backwards when it comes to Rock, Paper, Scissors.

So on the big island, we say it as, "Junk and a munk and a socka socka po," and then we show our hands on "po."

But on Kauai, they say it as, "jan ken a po, i can a show," and then they show their hands on "show" AND "po."

Isn't there any island that says it like we do on the big island?

Marathon Part 2

2008-05-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

My top 5 Power Songs

The sounds of running can be highly motivating. The constant pounding of your shoes against the pavement, the rush of your breath, and the quickened beating of your heart.

However, sometimes there are those songs, that just motivate you and push you harder than the sounds of your own breathing or steps can do.

Here are some of my top ten "power" songs.

5). "Duel of the Fates" by John Williams - Yes, I run along to a song from the Star Wars soundtrack. There's something about the opening vocal line, that gets my heart racing and my mind race ready.

4). "Gonna Fly Now (Theme from Rocky)" by Bill Conti- Do I need to say anything about this one?

3). "Knights of Cydonia" by Muse- This song is just epic. From the intro guitar solo, trumpet, and driving guitar riffs, this song is just epic, and makes me want to run in a way that is epic.

2). "You Think I Ain't Worth a Dollar, But I Feel Like a Millionaire" by Queens of the Stone Age- I don't feel quite like a millionaire when I hear this song, but I do feel like I can run and push myself a million times harder.

1.) "Stone Cold Crazy" by Queen- Arguably one of the greatest guitar riffs ever written, this song just drives me like no other. Every time I'm running along to this song, I feel like a stone cold crazy runner who'll stop at nothing.

Take a listen to my top 5 running songs!

The Fast Food Review #1

2008-05-18T18:27:00.000-07:00

Jack in the Box Real Fruit Smoothies

I pulled up to our town's Jack in the Box drive thru and was surprised to see that they were introducing "Real Fruit Smoothies" to their menu. I had to try it.

Unfortunately, this was definitely a case of curiosity killing the cat.

The smoothie I decided to try was the strawberry-banana. It tasted nothing like strawberry or banana. It tasted more like bubblegum. Bubblegumberry would have been a more appropriate name for this smoothie.

After a couple of sips my stomach began to turn. I tried to brave a couple of more sips, but found I couldn't do it. I offered the rest of it to my mom, who in turn threw it in the trash after a single sip.

My recommendation: Avoid at all costs.

Bike Disaster!

2008-05-15T22:46:00.000-07:00

I have the worst luck with bikes. And I'm just pretty stupid.

So yesterday, I found a nice road bike for about $80 being sold by one of the university students leaving for the mainland. The front tire was missing, but it was still in pretty decent looking shape. Further inquiry brought me to the bike and bike owner.

So $80, it's cheaper than an above average Wal-Mart bike, I thought about the bike. Plus it was a name brand that was build to last. I also saw the bike around campus, so I knew it worked too. It seemed like it was a decent enough deal.

However, because the front tire was missing, I couldn't ride it and give the proper test drive it needed. And so, I pretty much made the mistake of buying the bike in good faith. I mean, I saw it ridden around campus, so it had to have been working, right?

I guess I was mistaken.

So I buy a tire and I set everything up. Perfect.

I hop on the pike and take a few pedals forward. Perfect once again.

Then I take a couple of pedals forward again, and this horrible grinding sound takes place and the gears shift all by itself. Not so perfect.

So when I bought the bike I was told the gears stuck. A minor problem that could be easily remedied with some WD40.

So I hop on again, take a couple of pedals forward and endure some more awkward gear shifting and grinding noises. Not perfect, but I can live with it.

Ask anyone who knows me and they can tell you, I'm never in short supply of bad ideas. Today's first bad idea: ride the bike to work.

So I hop on the bike and begin pedaling towards my place of employment. Despite the awkward grinding of gears, I'm going at considerable speed and I have the wind in my hair. I feel so free. So this is that open road those bikers are always talking about, I think to myself. Euphoria is rushing me when all of a sudden the gear shifts the bike chain right off and I lose total control of the bike. Luckily, nothing serious happens.

Ok, that was close. Maybe I should head back home and just drive to work while I still have the chance...

And now comes bad idea number two. I decide to just put the chain back on the gear, and keep biking to work.

With the wind in my hair, the idea that I'm helping the environment, and sneaking in a bit of excercise, I'm totally caught off guard when the chain is shifted off of the gears a second time. And this time, things aren't so pretty.

I put my feet down to try and stop the bike. My body stays glued to the pavement, but the bike is still caught in inertia, resulting in a bend-over-boyfriend for all the cars passing by to see. There are some places, a bike seat was never meant to go.

(And for those who don't know what a bend-over-boyfriend is, google it while you are alone. And then think about the awkward shape of the bike saddle going somewhere it isn't supposed to.)

After this, I decide to walk the rest of the way to work, which isn't too bad, a good 15 minutes at the most. But the whole time, my butt was in the most intense pain imaginable. Plus, I think I lost my ability to partake in the baby-making process.

Luckily, after hearing about my fiasco, the guy I bought my bike from agreed to pay for a new derailleur. And next time, I think I'll just go for the Wal-Mart bike.

Bike Disaster

2008-05-15T22:13:00.000-07:00

I have the worst luck with bikes. And I'm just pretty stupid.

So yesterday, I found a nice road bike for about $80 being sold by one of the UH students leaving for the mainland. The front tire was missing, but it was still in a pretty decent looking shape. Further inquiry brought me to the bike and bike owner.

So $80, it's cheaper than an above average Wal-Mart bike, I thought in the bike of mind. Plus it was a name brand that was build to last. I also saw the bike around campus, so I knew it worked too. It seemed like it was a decent enough deal.

However, because the front tire was missing, I couldn't ride it and give the proper test drive it needed. And so, I pretty much made the mistake of buying the bike in good faith. I mean, I saw it ridden around campus, so it had to have been working, right?

I guess I was mistaken.

So I buy a tire and I set everything up. Perfect.

I hop on the pike and take a few pedals forward. Perfect once again.

Then I take a couple of pedals forward again, and this horrible grinding sound takes place and the gears shift all by itself. Not so perfect.

So when I bought the bike I was told the gears stuck. A minor problem that could be easily remedied with some WD40.

So I hop on again, take a couple of pedals forward and endure some more awkward gear shifting and grinding noises. Not perfect, but I can live with it.

Ask anyone who knows me and they can tell you, I'm never in short supply of bad ideas. Today's bad idea: ride the bike to work.

So I hop on the bike and begin pedaling towards my place of employment. Despite the awkward grinding of gears, I'm going at considerable speed and I have the wind in my hair. I feel so free. So this is that open road those bikers are always talking about, I think to myself. Euphoria is rushing me when all of a sudden the gear shifts the bike chain right off and I lose total control of the bike. Luckily, nothing serious happens.

Ok, that was close. Maybe I should drive home while I still have the chance...

And now comes bad idea number two. I decide to just put the chain back on the gear, and keep biking to work.

With the wind in my hair, the idea that I'm helping the environment, and sneaking in a bit of excercise, I'm totally caught off guard when the chain is shifted on the gears a second time. And this time, things aren't so pretty.

I put my feet down to try and stop the bike. My body stays glued to the pavement, but the bike is still caught in inertia, resulting in a bend-over-boyfriend for all the cars passing by to see. There are some places, a bike seat was never meant to go.

(And for those who don't know what a bend-over-boyfriend is, google it while you are alone.)

After this, I decide to walk the rest of the way to work, which isn't too bad, a good 15 minutes at the most. But the whole time, my butt was in the most intense pain imaginable. Plus, I think I lost my reproductive ability.

Luckily, after hearing about my fiasco, the guy I bought my bike from agreed to pay for a new

Bookstore Nazis from Space

2008-05-12T22:41:00.001-07:00

Every end-of-semester, the one thing I look forward to the most is the university bookstore's book buybacks. It usually provides me with that small financial push that gets me through until I begin my summer job.

This end-of-semester, was different though, instead of the nice, caring, warm, and friendly bookstore staff that I'm accustomed to from my original university, I was horrified to find myself in the middle of a textbook holocaust being administered by ruthless bookstore nazis.

It began with the hour wait in line. Everybody was packed in tightly while the oppressive bookstore nazis barked commands at us. I thought it was just a minor inconvenience at first. There was almost a gazillion people in line, so I reasoned that somebody needed to be a bit tyrannical to maintain the order needed to prevent the line spilling into chaos.

Then my growing sense that something was not right escalated when I finally reached the the inside of the bookstore and I noticed that there was a "donation shelf" where people could place the books that they couldn't sell back and they didn't want. To my disgust, I found three of the five textbooks I owned, had copies on the "donation shelf."

"Those must be older editions of the book I have," I lied to myself over and over, in an effort to keep my confidence up.

Finally I'm the next person in line and the girl in front of me is having no luck.

"I spent $300 on these books, isn't there anything you can give me? I need the money!" she begged with the counter person/bookstore nazi. The bookstore nazi just gave her a cold, emotionless look and shook his head no. For a second, I thought she was going to play the "cry" card, but she gave up. Personally, I would've totally done the "lean over and expose my cleavage" card, but I think I would've gotten escorted out by security.

And then the moment of truth. I walk up and put down all my books. The S.S. officer (S.S. standing for Steal Squadron) at the counter scans my books and then gives me a sad look.

"How much did you spend on your books this semester?" she asks.

"A bit over $500," I nervously reply.

Then she begins to explain how all but one of my books are considered old editions. "I can give you $30." she says matter-of-factly.

"That's it!" I squeak. I didn't want to push my luck, she looked like she wasn't going to be taking any crap from anybody who complained about how much they got back from buybacks.

She looks at me, with what I thought was a face of understanding. Then she puts down a coupon.

"Hear you go honey, maybe this will help you out." she says in a sweet sing-song voice.

The coupon she put down was for a dollar off my next bookstore purchase. If she gave me 499 more of those coupons, maybe that would've been a start.

To say I was upset would've been an understatement. Usually I break about $200-300 with each semesters book buybacks. $30 will only fill my car's gas tank to the 3/4 line.

The night before book buybacks I made a list of all the things I was hoping to buy with the money I got back from selling my books. This included a new video game, some money for my Maui Tacos habit, and some money to help buy a bicycle so that I wouldn't need to buy gas as often. Needless to say, thanks to the bookstore nazis (and the lack of an economic stimulus check for some odd reason) my dreams were crushed into a fine powder and used as zero-calorie sweetener for nazi diet cola.

Wedgies and You: A Guide to Concealing Your Riding Underwear

2008-05-05T22:29:00.000-07:00

Lately, my running has been taking further and further away from my house. This past Saturday, it took as far as the University (about 2.5 miles from my house). Throughout the entire run, my underwear continued to run up my buttocks, resulting in one of the most uncomfortable wedgies I've ever experienced during a run. About halfway back from the run, at what I thought was an empty intersection. I paused and reached into "no-man's land" to pull out the underwear wedged into my rear.

Of course, later that day I had the embarrassment to find out that I was not alone at that intersection.

A wedgie, by wikipedia, is defined as, "the condition of having one's underwear or other garments 'wedged' between the buttocks." So how does one remove material caught in their rear discreetly?

Let me present the DIP Method.

Distract

A magician is only as great as the distraction they can produce. Magicians succeed in their illusions by getting their audience to look at something else at the right time. Essentially, what you are doing is a "big magic trick." You are going to be making something disappear while you have people look at something else. You can do this by bringing something to attention that is as far away from you possible. Scream and point at something across the room. Yell a famous celebrity's name. Or do the the "No Country for Old Men"-- set a car on fire and then walk away.

Isolate

As soon as you've succeeded in pulling off your distraction, now is the moment to isolate. Superman found an empty phone booth. Spider-Man found a lonely alley. Batman had a batcave all to himself. And now you are going to find an empty room, a lonely corner, or a bathroom stall.

Pull

Everyone else is looking at something else. You are alone. And now...

You pull.

The next time you have a wedgie, just remember to catch your breath, count to ten, and calm down. Don't go into a panicked frenzy and bring attention to yourself. Just follow the DIP Method, and everything will be alright.

Songs to Cry in the Shower to

2008-05-04T16:14:00.000-07:00

The other day I was crying in the shower, and I was thinking, crying in the shower is so much better when you got a sad song in the background. Enjoy :)

It's Friday Night!

2008-05-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

And you all know what that means! Tonight is "Depressing Story of the Week Night."

Enjoy :)

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There once was this man. He lived alone in his house up on the hills. All he had was an empty refrigerator and an orange cat named Oscar.

Every day the man would sit on his rocking chair while Oscar the cat sat in his lap and purred happily. The man would rock steadily and pet Oscar. Sometimes the man would tell Oscar stories about "the girl who got away."

Oscar would just purr happily.

Sometimes, the man didn't say anything. He would just rock the chair and quietly think about the girl that got away.

Oscar would still purr happily.

Oscar was the only thing the man had. And the man was the only thing that Oscar had.

Then one morning the man forgot to close the door when he left for work. Oscar saw the open door and was confused by it. The cat had never in his 11 years of life seen that door left open. He decided to venture out and experience life outside of the house.

Outside of the house, Oscar came across a road. Oscar decided to cross the road.

At that moment a car decided to speed across the road.

Oscar didn't see the car. The car didn't see Oscar.

Oscar was killed instantly. The car continued driving.

Now the man had nothing in his life. All he had was an empty refrigerator.

At nights he just sat in his rocking chair. He wouldn't speak. Actually, he couldn't speak. He now had no one to talk to.

The man was alone.

Things have been slow going lately

2008-05-02T01:12:00.000-07:00

So usually I have a million and one stories to tell about all crazy people that I randomly encounter through out the day. In fact, that was one of the reasons why I started this blog. But as fate would have it, the moment I decided to start this blog was also the same moment that all the crazy people in the world decided to avoid me like some kind of social leper.

But whatevs.

Because of the devoid of socially awkward situations in my life, I've decided to repost an older blog that I've posted a loooooooonnnggg time ago that some of you might have never read. ENJOY :)

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Ok. It seems like God enjoys putting me through the weirdest of bathroom situations. I'm not mad or anything. I just hope somebody is getting a laugh at least. *Hint, hint-Man up stairs*

So today, I'm using the toilet. And it's like any ordinary encounter with a toilet...When all of a sudden, WHAM!

A friggin mongoose lands right on my lap.

Of course, you know what I was fearing for. Look at the picture below and just think about it.

Turns out there was a mongoose on the roof of the bathroom I was using and it fell through a hole in the ceiling.

And the thing was just as shocked as I was. It started clawing at every thing that moved, made some hissing sounds, and then began to run around in circles in the stall I was in. Luckily, I was in the handicap stall. If this was going on inside a normal stall... I don't even want to imagine that would be like.

It seems like I have the worst bathroom luck. Every trip to the bathroom seems to be another misadventure for me. Where the hell is the patron saint of crapping when you need her?

If there's one thing I know for sure, I will always be sure to check the roof of the bathroom for holes now on. And you can also bank on me using handicap stalls for the rest of my life.

Love?

2008-04-28T01:49:00.000-07:00

Stuck to the Toilet

Above is one the most unusual and interesting news stories I've ever read in my life. I first heard of this story in the Mysterious Universe podcast.

Basically a woman, because of some odd phobia, lives in her boyfriend's bathroom for two years. She just plants herself on his toilet and basically refused to leave.

Most people find this article fascinating because the woman's bottom had basically grown onto the toilet and had to be removed through surgery.

But what really gets me is the fact that during the two years that this guy's girlfriend basically lived on his toilet, he continued to have a relationship with her and took care of her by getting food and changes of clothes to her.

Maybe it's love, maybe it's something else, but still there is something strangely fascinating about it. Could you imagine dating someone for two years via your restroom? You'd think that the woman living in the bathroom must be suffering from some form of mental illness, but for the boyfriend to have let this happen for two years... It's obvious he's got a couple of screws loose too.

But despite all the mental illness and the skin growing onto the toilet seat, I also have to admit I find this also strangely romantic. Who knows, maybe I also got a couple of screws loose myself.

Flawless Victory or Fatality?

2008-04-25T20:30:00.000-07:00

Mortal Kombat vs. The DC Universe.

When I first read the announcement, I thought it was a hilarious April Fools' Joke. But the joke is on me, because it turns out that it isn't a joke. There is seriously going to be Mortal Kombat vs. The DC Universe video game.

This isn't the first time a video game featured two franchises facing off against each other. Games like Marvel vs. Capcom, Street Fighter vs. X-Men, and Capcom vs. SNK met with great praise.

But something about Mortal Kombat vs. The DC Universe just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The whole concept just seems silly. A franchise known for it's violence and gore against a franchise of superheroes that fight for "Peace, Justice, and The American Way"?

What I'm most curious about will be the fatalities. Mortal Kombat had players ripping out hearts, decapitating, and disemboweling opponents. Will we be able to rip out Batman's still beating heart or twist off Wonder Woman's head? Would Superman really pull off the arms of an opponent like pulling off the wings of a fly?

I have to be completely honest here. I think this game will fall flat on its face. Only time will tell if I will have to eat my words.

Marathon Part 1

2008-04-24T22:39:00.000-07:00

I'm not usually a competitive person by nature. I lose often, and I just accept it. In high school, I was never really good at sports, but I felt that I was in the middle of the "athletic ability spectrum." I wasn't the fastest, but at least I wasn't the slowest. In P.E. I was often creamed with an assortment of sports balls, but I was the only one who got an A in the line-dancing segment of the semester. Being in this middle ground of athleticism got me through high school sports and wasn't a big deal for me.

It wasn't a big deal until my senior year.

In high school I ran cross country. It was one of the "safer sports." It had no contact and required no coordination-- perfect for the likes of me. I ran cross country each year of high school and up until my senior year, had no problems. I wasn't the fastest runner on the team, but at least I was on the varsity team.

And then the my cross country coach had to upset the balance my senior year. My first race of the season, I ran the course wearing my jersey wrapped around my neck like a cape and with these huge obnoxious glasses on. I was getting bored with "just running" and needed something to pick up the excitement. Unfortunately, my coach didn't feel the same way. He pulled me on the side after the race and informed me that I was no longer a member of the varsity squad. I would be a junior varsity runner.

At first I was thought it was a joke and that he would forget all about it. It wasn't the first time I ran a race in some ridiculous manner. But on the day of championship race, he took me on the side and told me I was participating in the JV race.

And to add lemon juice to a scraped knee, my varsity team--the team I should have been running with-- won the championship race.

Since that race, I made a promise to myself that I would devote my life to running, and beat my cross country coach in a race and humiliate him, the same way he humiliated me by making me run the JV race.

That was two years ago. I am now 60 lbs. heavier and my running has never been in worse shape than now.

But all that is going to change.

This summer will be the summer that I actually follow through with my promise and beat my coach in an actual race. I've begun training about a month ago, and slowly I'm regaining my form. Then when I am race ready, I will beat my coach in an epic race.

Not just any kind of race-- But a race of epic proportions. The kind of race that Michael Bay will have to make a movie about.

It will go something like this:

I walk up to the starting line and my coach will see me there. He'll be like, "David, is that you? What are you doing here?"

And I'll just look at him and not say anything.

And then instead of a starting gun, there will be a starting explosion.

Something huge (like a building or helicopter) will blow up, and that will be the cue for everyone to start running. Everyone will run and I'll be in the back of the pack at first, but I'll slowly catch up to my ex-coach.

About midway through the run, a volcano will erupt and the race for revenge will become a race for survival.

And revenge.

Finally, near the end of the race I will catch up to my to my coach. He'll be like, "You can't do this to me. You can't beat me!"

And I'll shout something inspiring like, "You can make me run JV--But you'll never take away my freedom!"

And then my coach will do something drastic, like shoot me in the arm with a gun he had concealed in his running shorts. But I'll still keep running. And he'll try and shoot me again. And then I'll wrestle the gun out of his hands and we'll both tumble dangerously close to the edge of a cliff that came out of nowhere. With one hand each, we'll both be hanging on to the edge. And with our other hands we'll try to knock the other off the cliff.

After a dramatic fight scene. I'll somehow manage to climb back up from the edge and then offer my hand to save my coach. My coach will grab my hand at first, but then notice that with our combined weight, the cliff will collapse into a pit of lava that formed during our fight scene. And so in an act of redemption, he'll throw himself off the edge and save my life. For about two seconds, I'll just be frozen in shock, and then scream, "NOOOOOO!" extremely dramatically.

Then the spirit of my coach will appear and tell me that I need to finish the race. So I'll get back to running and I'll end up winning the race.

At the finish line, everyone will slow clap for me. I'll cry. And the spirit of my recently deceased/forgiven coach will appear, and simply smile at me, much like the ending of Return of the Jedi.

And that's how I hope my epic race against my ex-cross country coach will turn out after I'm done training.