"A fascinating collection. It will break your heart."

In the recent past, whenever I have gone to any bookstore, I have more frequently been finding myself in the Humor section. Among the things I am looking for are The Areas of my Expertise, by John Hodgeman whom you might recall as the correspondent on "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" and half of the advertisement team for Apple Computers. He's the nerdy looking guy whose tagline is "I'm a PC." In this book, the author goes throughout history in an almanac-style presentation giving tidbits of trivia about events and figures and trends. The gag, of course, is that it's all completely made up.

One of my favorite finds in the Humor section is a book called Found II. This is, of course, the second published book in the history of Found Magazine, and the subject of the accolade quoted in the title of this post (David Sedaris said it).

For those of you not aware, Found Magazine is one of the greatest magazines in existence anywhere ever. Based out of Ann Arbor, Michigan, this magazine was founded by Davy Rothbart, who, since he was a child, made a collection of items he found randomly on the street, in libraries, restaurants, schools, and so on. He then decided to make this the premise of the magazine. What eventually happened as his fan-base widened was that readers would send Rothbart and his crew items that they had found in their neck of the woods, including notes, photographs, drawings, etc.

At some point during all of this, the magazine branched out into a few and far between issue dubbed Dirty Found, which, as the title might suggest, exclusively includes photos, notes and drawings and so on that are for the 18 and up crowd. Rothbart also published a very thick anthology just called Found.

A lot of the charm of the book and magazine comes from the presentation. All of the finds are literally taped to a sheet of paper, photocopied, and sized to fit. Alongside all of the finds are the name of the person who sent it in, a brief title, and the city and state (or nation) in which the find was found. These notes are typed out and cut out of the paper and taped right next to the finds.

In the preface of Found II, Davy writes that he, and his brother Peter bought a van on E-bay and pursued an 8 month, 50 state , 136 city tour, in such venues as coffee houses (like Grounds For Thought, which I am sad to say I missed), bookstores, prisons, art galleries, bars and so on, presenting their all-time favorite finds and allowing faithful readers to present their own finds. He did this because, as he states, it was "pointed out that there finds in it from every single state."

The biggest thing to point out in Found II is that, although the majority of the finds sent in are hilariously out of context, such as a lousily drawn sign informing the reader that a Hot Pocket was lost that was only a few seconds old, and that there is a reward for its return, there are two heartbreaking sections of the book. The first section is a collection of items that Davy himself found on a trip to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. He went down there with a friend who was a New Orleans native and wanted to return to his home. The second section is a small collection of suicide notes. This may seem insensitive, but the idea is that if one wanted to describe what it's like to live in America in these modern days, as an everyday normal person, what better way than to let these things speak for themselves? As comedian David Cross put it, "You can take everything ever written about America or Americans by natives or visitors whether fact or fiction since the first pilgrims landed here, and they will all pale as illustrations of the American psyche when held up to these genuine and perfect examples of pathos, anger, longing, and heart-break (and how stupid and inane we can be), located within these pages."

The other neat thing about Found II is that the scope of the finds has widened to the international. There are finds from the Virgin Islands, England, and Canada just to name a few.

The last thing I'd like to leave you with is the address of the magazine to which you can send your interesting and curious finds.

Found Magazine
3455 Charing Cross Road
Ann Arbor, Michigan 48108

And, as Rothbart implores at the end of his preface, keep your eyes to the ground and send in your finds.




P.S. go to the magazine's website for more information, including subscription information, and a daily find.

DVDs galore.

Okay, last post of the day. I decided to split it all up, as opposed to one borishly long post.

As a graduation present, Amy got me this. Needless to say, I've already watched it in its entirety since then.

In addition, my love got me a $25 gift certificate to Amazon.com, so that I could get other things that I want, that Amy gets confused about. Which, I don't blame her.

So with that gift certificate, I pre-ordered this and ordered this. And, since I lumped the two of them together in one shipment, the both of them should arrive next Wednesday or Thursday, since Arrested Development is released next Tuesday. I'm excited.


Finally, Amy and I decided to sign up for Netflix. We were tired of spending $8 a movie at Blockbuster, so we decided to pay $15 a month for two movies at a time with an unlimited number of movies a month. Definitely a good deal, as I love watching movies and usually cannot find what I want to watch at Blockbuster, and Amy moderately enjoys watching movies. Our first selections, which are shipping out today, are Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and Brick. The first was really good, and Amy didn't get a chance to watch it. The second I am really looking forward to watching.

Holla!

I am not judgemental.

One interesting thing happened at work last night, and that was that I got hit on by a guy.

The guy got some pizza from me, and then asked if we carry any Coke products, to which I responded that, no, we do not carry Coke products. I went on to explain that we do have all-natural soda, and that there is a cola. He asked if they were any good, and I said that I hadn't had the cola, but I did have something that I didn't quite remember.

"Can you show me which one you had?"
"Yeah, sure."

So we go over 20 feet to the drink cooler and I point at the Cherry Vanilla Creme Soda and say, "That was the one I had, and I really liked it. I usually don't go for that kind of thing, but I really enjoyed it. I also enjoy Coke - Diet Coke's my drink."
"Really? Cos you don't need it."
I laugh, going, "Oh, thanks - that's sweet of you to say." I continue, saying, "I used to do diets and I switched to Diet Coke and now Coke is way to sweet for my tastes."
"Why would you diet? You don't need to."
"Oh - yeah, I think sometimes I do, but thank you."
"Your welcome. Thanks a lot for your help."

I return to my post behind the counter quite flattered.

I don't care who hits on me. I'll take a compliment.

There are dead animal spirits everywhere.

Note: I've fallen a little behind on my posting, so today may either be a multiple post day, or hopefully nothing post-able happens today.

Friday night Amy and I went out with a few friends. We went out with Sarah and Kristen, two people I haven't seen in a few years. Everyone was in town, so Amy and I went out with them and their boyfriends. It was an interesting evening and fun was had by all.

That said, it was definitely not my scene. I felt very out of place. Sarah told us to meet them at a place called the Lodge Bar in the Arena District in Columbus. I thought, "That sounds nice. I laid back bar, we can all just hang out and have a good time." Amy and I drive there and our first sign that we didn't know what we were in for was the fact that we couldn't find a parking spot that didn't cost us. Suspecting nothing, Amy and I went into the evening carrying no cash, expecting nothing extravagant.

We had to borrow money from Sarah's boyfriend Brian, who was very nice to lend it to us. And since there was a cover fee at the bar, he gave us money for that, too.

We drove around the block about nine fucking times, and almost hit about a dozen self-centered dumb motherfuckers who would've been better off with me running them down. One time, I was driving straight down the road and a gaggle of guys ambled right in front of us. I threw up my hands in the car as if to say, "What the fuck, douche?" One of the guys gets all indignant and yells something I can't hear, but what I can only assume was, "Please kill me, my life is worthless and I am a drain on everyone around me."

We park and walk across the street to the bar and meet Brian outside of the bar. We walk in, we pay cover, and I look at what I am in for. Essentially, it was one of the bars/clubs like I could find in Bowling Green. Whichever one. Doesn't matter, as they're all the same. This one is Hunting Lodge-themed, but still with slut-bumping music and me feeling very awkward. And feeling out of place puts me in a position where I compensate by having a very weird sense of humor.

At one point, Amy told me to turn around and look over the bar. There were several television screens, two or three of which were broadcasting a closed-circuit feed of the dance floor fifty feet away from us. "How vain are these people," I ask.
We hang out and talk over the loud music, I show Sarah my photos on my new camera phone, which include a Gamecube controller, a Triple Score tile on a Scrabble board, and a close-up of my George A. Romero's Land of the Dead poster.

Back to my awkwardness and my compenstation. I get a very straight-faced mood where I start saying crazy shit about myself and see if other people believe it. That comes into play later.

We leave the Lodge Bar and head towards another bar called It's Brothers, or something like that. It's essentially the same thing as the first one, except with less deer heads on the wall. There are big-screen televisions and one of them is playing Letterman. "Oh, man - this looks like a good one," I think to myself. I refuse to miss Letterman these days - he's been fucking hilarious lately.

As I've decided to drive for the evening, I'm pacing myself. Amy decides to order some shots. She orders three Stop Lights. I'm not quite sure what they are, but they involve three different shot glasses, one red, one yellow and one green. Apparently you toss them back in succession.

While she's getting those things, Brian and I are left at the table talking. He comments on how all the girls are completely whored out. I agree, adding, "Well, I like to get whored out myself, too sometimes. On the weekends, mostly."
Brian replies, "But today's a Friday."
"Yeah, I usually do it on Saturday nights."
"So what do you wear? Like a skirt and stuff?"
"Yeah, I have a skirt and a pretty kickin' thong I wear. And fishnets and a tight blouse."
Brian seems a little weirded out and asks, "Are you a pothead, too? Do you take some Chiba with you?"
"What?"
"Are you a pothead?"
"Oh - no. I'm high on Jesus."


Amy brings back the shots and everyone seems hesitant and she keeps egging everyone on. Eventually, Brian's game and he and Amy toss back the shots in succession. Except, Brian takes a drink of his beer afterwards and Amy comments on how she doesn't need a chaser. Amy pokes a little fun and goes, "Hey, Brian - why don't you tuck your vagina back in?"

Everyone laughs out loud - I'm glad no one took offense. I kiss Amy on the cheek and say, "Amy, that's why I love you."

The girls and Kristen's boyfriend go dancing, and Brian and I are at the table again - we both don't care to dance very much. I'm definitely not drunk enough to dance. However, I am looking at the other people around me and I spot a couple dancing that makes me smile.

There's a guy and a girl, and the girl is wearing a blouse that emphasizes her chest - it's one of those things where there's a hoists the breasts and the low cut shows the cleavage. The guy looks down at her chest. The girl looks at the guy's face and sees that he's looking at her chest. She then looks down at her own chest and smiles. Apparently they both enjoy what they are seeing.

Eventually, it's after 1 a.m., and I've been up since 5:45 a.m. and worked a long day, so I ask Amy if she's ready to leave. She says she's ready whenever, as she's pretty drunk at this point. We all say our goodbyes and we go home and immediately go to bed.

It was a lot of fun, and I was glad to hang out with someone I know. I've been here a couple months and I haven't made many friends. It's just good to know there are people in the area I already have existing friendships with.

Two-person show

I was looking up movie showtimes online at a cheap theater. I read the listings to Amy.

"Mission Impossible 3?"
"No, we've seen that one already. What else is there?"
"Nothin', unless you wanna see The Crap Code. Or Fast and The Crappy 3. Over The Crap. The Crap-Up. The Crap House."
"Okay, stop."
"Aw, come in, it's fun."
"No, it's not."
"I'm actually kind of glad you stopped me. I don't know what I was going to do for RV."

I am kept entertained.

A few things happened at work last night that made it all worth while.

The first is, I got a beard compliment. There was a guy that came by, eyeing the pizza. I have a feeling he had never been in the store before. He said, "Ooh, all these pizzas look fantastic!"
"Thank you very much."
"Wow, nice beard - how long you been working on that?"
"It's been a long-term commitment. And I'm, like, half Italian."
"Very nice."
Immediately after that happened I got out my phone and sent a text message to my brother, a fellow beard enthusiast. The message said this: "Im at work I got a beard compliment".
A little while later, I got this as a reply: "Just wait til you get a taint compliment"
My brother is hilarious.


The second happening occurred when a chubby 11 or 12 year old boy with a curly afro and a stuffed snake around his neck walked by my area.
I said, "Be careful, man. Those things are poisonous."
"Hey, that hurt. He's nice." He then went on to explain, "You can't say that stuff to me. I'm from California. The ghetto." A few seconds later he continued, "Sorry. I just always wanted to say that."
He then walked away.


Lastly, near the end of closing, a man came by to sample some pizza. Apparently he does this quite often, because he was having a conversation with the other guy I was working with. Eventually he goes, "Alright, I gotta go, I got people waiting on me. We were having a picnic and I had to stop by to get some meat. And then I gotta go down to Trader Joe's for some hot dogs without any nitrates in them."
For a guy that had to leave, he certainly had a lot to say, because he then began to explain just why it was that he specifically wanted hot dogs without any nitrates in them.
"You know, I was reading a study out of California (Note: What is it with California?) that linked nitrates to cancer. They said that kids who eat hot dogs with nitrates in them are 9 times more likely to get, like cancer and leukemia and stuff like that."
I decided this guy was just crazy enough for me to engage him in this conversation.
"You know, even though it's 9 times more likely, the odds that a child will get leukemia is still very very distant. If a kid has .001% chance of getting leukemia, and eating hot dogs with nitrates will multiply that by 9, then the his chances are still .009%."
"Well, yeah, but...what if it's your kid, you know?"
At this point I'm thinking, "So you're saying that hot dogs will give kids leukemia?"

It's this kind of paranoid overprotective bullshit I hate in parents. My parents never fed me any nitrate-free hot dogs and I'm pretty sure I never had leukemia.

The guy walked away, and I saw him stop and chat to someone at the coffee counter. He must've been in a hurry.

Two quick work-related stories.

1. My co-worker was off helping a customer somewhere, and I was helping a customer at the counter. Another employee from another area came around to my area, came behind the counter, stole about 5 or six pans that we needed to close down, and just left. The thing is, we get them early on in the day so that when it comes time to close we don't have to hunt all over for them, or give the dishroom our dirty ones so that they can wash them and hopefully get them back before someone else takes them. There are just enough to go around, and not many extras. I told my manager, and he went over to talk to the guy, and the guy just glared at him and walked away without saying a word. What a dick.

2. The manager tonight was actually a fill-in because the normal, shittier manager wasn't there. This guy's actually pretty cool. We were closing and he came out from doing something in the kitchen and said, "Hey, this all looks good everyone, and I'm not being sarcastic."
I go, "Whatever, jerk!"
"Oh, I will pound you." He then lifts up his sleeve to flex. "I call these my guns."
I respond, "Why's that? Cos' you had to wait three days to get 'em? OH!"
"Oh my god. That was awesome. I have to wait til someone says 'guns' to me so I can say that."



Everyone thought it was funny, but I felt it was one of the lamer jokes I've ever told. I've told lamer, believe me. Ask my brother Nick, his girlfriend Hannah, Amy, Nate, Tim...

What does that even mean?

My feet smelled awful by the end of it.

Today was a very good day. I was off of work and I got many things.

Amy and went back to Verizon today and we got our new phones - both the same (aw, his and hers!) phones on the share plan. After that, I planned on traveling to OSU with her and, while she was at class, walking up and down High Street checking out the many interesting shops. I also had many CDs and a few DVDs to trade, so I took those with me. I am now going to chronicle the things I attained in my exploits today.

1 cellular telephone
1 .97 t-shirt from Old Navy
1 set of 8 corn holders (we needed them because we were having corn on the cob for dinner.)

Due to my trades at Used Kid's Record Store, I got $103 credit. I used only $93.
14 CDs:
Dr. Octagon - Dr. Octagonecologyst
Grand Buffet - Five Years Of Fireworks*
The Snake The Crown The Cross - Mander Salis*
Books On Tape - The Business End
Okkervil River - Black Sheep Boy
Hotel Lights - S/T*
My Bloody Valentine - Isn't Anything
The Celebrity Pilots - Beneath The Pavement, A Beach!*
Margot & The Nuclear So & So's - The Dust Of Retreat*
The M's - Future Women*
The Go! Team - Thunder, Lightning, Strike
Mayday - Bushido Karaoke
Four Tet - Everything Ecstatic
The Boggs - We Are The Boggs We Are

(* these CD selections were entirely influenced by [no one is awake].)

4 comic books:
Issues #1-4 of Army of Darkness Vs. Reanimator

1 Book:
Mostly Harmless by Douglas Adams. (This is the last of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, thus completing my collection. All that's left is for me to get back to reading them.)

1 t-shirt:
It was for Amy. It's an OSU t-shirt. She asked me to pick one up for her.

1 OSU window clinger:
This was also requested by Amy.

10 sticks of sandalwood incense:
These were purchased in a head shop that also sold a nearly disturbing amount of dildos entitled things such as "Anal Intruder" and "Ass Balloon."

All said, it was a highly enjoyable, highly lucrative day. And I'm pretty exhausted. After all, while Amy was in class I had about 5 hours to kill. And they were pretty much all spent on my feet. As I was wearing my soccer sandals, which I own for comfort because if you've ever seen me you know I obviously wouldn't own them because I play soccer, the title of this post was highly appropriate.

When we got home the first thing I did was wash my feet.







If you'd like my new phone number, leave me a comment here and I'll get it to you somehow.

"Wrong form, sir. You'll have to move to the back of the line."

Amy worked until 12:30 today and I worked at 3. So, in the meantime, I thought it would be nice that we go to Verizon to get new cell phones. This is something we'd planned on doing since we moved in together. We wanted to get a family share plan so we only pay so much and we can call each other for free.

We went to the store on Brice Road, about 3 miles from our place. They didn't have any deals going on, and the phones they have for free weren't in stock and would be coming in later today. I said that maybe we should try and go to the one at Easton Center. I asked the guy if he could call and ask if the one at Easton would have the free phones in.

"No, not really. They don't ever answer the phones. It's a corporate office, and they never answer their phones."

Odd, I thought. I didn't think that the store in Easton was a corporate office and even if they were that would be more of a reason to answer their phones.
They probably wanted commission.

So we drive out to Easton and I remind Amy that I would like to be home by 2 so that I can get ready and leave no later than 2:30.

"We'll have enough time."

We park, etc.
We get into the store and the place is packed. There are 7 people in line ahead of us at the sales desk, and the customer service desk is even more packed. We step in line because we pretty much know what we want. The hostess shows up and asks if we knew what we were in the store for, and then she showed us a phone she was trying to sell. She didn't know much else because she couldn't answer our questions, which leads me to think that she's either new or retarded (cognitively disabled?).

Amy and I take turns in line while the other scopes out phones so we can cut down the time spent as much as possible. We wanted to be able to say, "We would like the 700 minute family share plan, with the Buy 1 Get 1 Free phones. She would like the LG 7X-BLAHBOOBIE and I would like the Samsung SCH-BLOWME."

The line crawled and crawled. I asked Amy if we'd suddenly been transported to a BMV because no matter how long into the line we travel, we just can't seem to reach the desk.

A woman finished a sale, which is normally ceremonially ended with the passing of the small clear plastic shopping bag from the sales representative to the sales victim. I think we're next. The woman leaves the desk area into the secluded, one-way-mirrored employee area. How mysterious and ethereal.
"I thought that would happen," says Amy.
The woman doesn't return.

Eventually, we get antsy because 2:00 is approaching.

"We'll give it 5 more minutes," Amy tells me. A man at the desk tells us he'll be with us soon.

There's an Asian woman at the desk with someone who is not carrying a phone, a purse, or anything else at all. Amy and I wonder what she could possibly want. What the hell could she want at the desk?

We leave the store.

"Thanks anyway," says Amy to the new/retarded woman being constantly fascinated with her shiny, blinky phone.

"Jesus Fucking Christ, are they all on fucking break? What the fuck?!" We're outside now and I'm very upset. "Fuckin' dicks!" I get a potty mouth when I'm angry.

On the way home, I keep talking about the waste of an hour that had just occurred. Apparently salespeople don't really care about you, unless they're directly selling you something.


We get home and I get ready for work. I go to work. And around 7 we get someone who calls in and orders 4 whole pizzas to be made for 8.

This isn't Dominoe's, it's a fucking grocery store.

The manager is a tool and doesn't respect anyone's time. We ran out of olive oil and we had to ask him to transfer some to us because the giant bulk jugs of it we use are out of stock and we have to use stuff from the grocery section. He's in the office talking to someone, something he normally does. "Yeah, I'll get it to you in about 20 minutes."

At this point, it's about 8:20, and we stop making pizzas at around 8:15 or 8:30. We are making par-baked shells, and we need olive oil so we can finish and then start cleaning everything. We eventually see him talking to some other people, giving a review of Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby for about 20 minutes. We never get our olive oil, and I'd since decided to do without it. If the morning people have a problem, they can talk to Manager.

We ask him later about the olive oil and he says that he didn't want to transfer $20 of olive oil to us for 9 pizzas. Thanks a fucking bunch, dick.




On a lighter note, I have the next two days off and tomorrow may very well be CD Exchange Day.




What the hell could that Asian woman have wanted?

I am a complete geek...

...and I don't think it's too geeky to want to work for "The Simpsons." That's how much of a geek I am.

Also, I am getting antsy in my pantsy for the release of this:




It comes out a week from today. Can I wait that long?

Will I explode? Implode? Drink heavily?


That last one may not have been related.

Water your hands like a flower.

This is something I should mention. This is a copied idea.

Like many ideas back in the day and few from these days, I got the idea to do a blog from my friend Tim. He runs an amazing music blog called No One Is Awake. Every day he takes the time to write and post about some new music he's really into.

The joy he has for each selection is infectious, as anyone who's read it can tell you. As much as he's given me props for his musical tastes back in the day, the props-ification is mutual and tipped in his direction.

He's so into what he does that he has now become a venue manager. He is hosting a unique jazzy rock band called Them, Roaringtwenties at his very own house. It's to be held on his back porch overlooking the above-ground pool and grill. Anyone in the area of Amherst, Ohio should go and support the band. There is no cover, but feel free to donate something.

As I cannot attend due to employment, this is the best I can do.

Go. Have fun. Read up on Tim's blog daily.

Did I get it wrong?

Okay, so I just saw one of those "smoking is bad" commercials. It's the one where they're in the diner with the snakes.

So the message is don't smoke or else the snakes will get you? I thought that was the plot to a sure-to-be-awful-even-though-it's-supposed-to-be-that-way movie?

I don't get it.

"Can't these fucking retards shut up?"

Preface:
I am not the most politically correct person. Using the word "retarded" doesn't make me really uncomfortable because it's an archaic term. These days when they want to refer to someone who is mentally retarded, the technical term is "cognitively disabled."

Just wanted to say that.

Also, I should warn you that this post is the longest I've done yet. It details my graduation commencement and all the fun there within.




I graduated Saturday morning at approximately 11:00 a.m. The ceremony was miserable.

The note said to be in front of Prout Chapel in your cap and gown at 8:45 to line up with your college. Not a problem. It wasn't really uncomfortable because it was before 9 and we were in the shade. I'd had the foresight to bring a bottle of water with me - a rather large one, at that - to the ceremony, as it was to be held outside in an area with little to no shade. As we line up, I'm thinking, "this won't be so bad. It's not that hot." I was still standing in the shade at this point.

The moment I stepped out into the sun, I thought to myself, "I'm probably going to die."

So we do the whole processional thing. We're walking in a line and I'm walking behind a friend of mine, Betsy, that I did Methods with, and I thought it would be nice to sit next to someone I know. We get separated when the woman asked me to sit on an end seat that was unoccupied a row ahead. Then someone in the row in front of mine asked me to switch with him because he wanted to be with his friends. I said, "whatever." This turned out to be a mistake.

At this point, I'm looking at the program and noticing that the song they keep repeating - you know, the one they play at all graduations across the Universe, no doubt - is called "Pomp and Circumstance." This comes as a great shock to me because I thought the words "Pomp and Circumstance" was just a figure of speech used to denote something high falutin' and hoity-toity (Note: I'm not sure if either of those are real words or even normally used expressions). But, no. It's a song. This fills me with some amount of dread because I now associate graduation commencements as something all hoity-toity, which isn't my bag.

We finally sit down and I am now noticing around me that none of the other graduates are stopping talking. The teacher in me is flipping out. Add that to the fact that I am now in direct sunlight, sitting in black foldable chair in a black cap and a black gown (or should it be African-American, in regards to my note about political correctness?). I am just plain miserable.

The ceremony starts, and the President, Sidney Ribeau is talking. The people behind me are referring to him as "SidReb." This doesn't make sense to me because if it's supposed to be a short version of his name, it should be "SidRib." They guy that wanted to switch with me keeps saying that "SidReb's (SidRib?) got a spinner on his necklace! Alright SidReb!" I pretty much just want him to shut the fuck up. They keep fanning themselves and remarking how hot it is, as if it's news. They say how they wish they'd have brought a bottle of water. I take a sip of my large bottle right in front of them and smile inside.

Fast forward through the ceremony a bit, and graduates around me are going, "This is bullshit! I should leave and get some water." Then they actually get up and leave their chairs to get water. I'm well hydrated, but still fucking miserable and having enough common sense to move as little as possible and not talk, so that I don't become even hotter. One guy goes, "Man, I'm fucking hungry. Is Wendy's open yet? Oh, it's only 10:15. You know what? I'm going to the Union." He gets up and leaves, and returns 45 minutes later with sandwiches and chips, like they're going to help them with the heat.

Audience members who have been instructed not to crowd the aisles are moving up and down the side aisles with cups of water with people. There's a guy with a neck tattoo that says "Cream G." I'm not making that up. He was there a while, so I had enough time to figure out what those shitty cursive/gothic letters said.

"I bet you SidReb's spinner's still goin'."
Thank you for bringing that up again.

Eventually, the ceremony advances onto the part where the new Master students are getting their diplomas, and a good amount of them are international students. Of course the graduates around me are making fun of each and every one of the international students' names. Of course I'm beginning to seriously consider the possibility that they just may be cognitively disabled. I especially consider this when the girl next to me that's graduating Cum Laude is text messaging someone, and her phone keeps beeping, indicating an incoming text message. How hard would it be to turn off the beeper, but continue with the message?

Also, there's a guy in the row ahead of me having a conversation on his phone.

All of this continues on with the Undergraduate students. Sometimes I can't hear the names of the people being presented because the retards are talking so loudly. One of my best friends and former roommate Josh was also graduating, so I was listening especially for him.

Finally the ceremony is over, and all that's left is to recess out of the chairs. We're all standing, and the audience is still sitting. Off to my left my family is sitting not fifty feet away, and I am glad for it because all this time I would occasionally glance over, catch someone's eye and shake my head in utter misery. I catch my brother's eye, and he is motioning for me to just leave, since I am sitting on the end, and it would be very easy for me to just walk away from my chair. I think that he's joking because this is something within his reach of getting me to do something completely stupid. I then catch Amy's eye, who is doing the exact same thing. I think, "Fuck this, I'm out," and just walk away. Everyone looked at me. I didn't feel like an ass at all, seeing as though one of the other graduates left for nearly an hour and came back bearing sandwiches. Once I'm over to my family, my Dad says, "No, you have to go back there."
I reply, "I'm done, let's go."

We walk to a shaded area, and since no one that followed graduation procedure has recessed out, we have plenty of time to take all the pictures they want/need without a crowd. However, about twelve people still manage to walk in front of every picture we're trying to take. Eventually we're done, I take off my gown and we go into the Union to cool off.


I don't really feel any different having graduated. The ceremony seemed like an afterthought because I've been done with all my classes and in Reynoldsburg for more than a month already. I can just say that I'm officially graduated. I didn't toss my cap in the air, but I had a bunch of wine at dinner.

If none of this were true, I'd be a successful novelist

One of the most annoying and aggravating things I can think of is the fact that parents are afraid of their children.

They simply do not want their kids to dislike them or be different, so they cave in and medicate.

Tonight at work, I witnessed this entire scene and played part.

Two kids, approximately 11, are walking with their mother while they shop for groceries. The two boys' heads turn and glimpse the pizza.

"Pizza!!!" one of them yells (yells, in the middle of the store).
"No pizza," says the mother.
The boy continues to walk rapdily over to the glass area. He will not take no for an answer. "Pizza!!!" seems to be the only word in his vocabulary.
The mother walks over, following the boy and sighs. The other boy is in tow. First sign of weakness.
Second sign of weakness: "Okay, what kind do you want?"
"Cheese!!" Okay, two words in his lexicon, but only one volume of speech has been learned.
"One slice of cheese pizza, please," the mother says to me. I begin to comply.
"No, two!!" Four words. He's a quick learner.
The mother sighs, "Okay, two slices."
For someone who did not want their child to have any pizza whatsoever, she sure went to two slices pretty quickly.

This illustrates my point perfectly that parents don't want their kids to be unhappy with them. They want to be their kids' friends. Being friendly with your children is one thing, but that does not equal good parenting. In their eyes, good parenting means that their kids will like them at all times. But it's not. It's doing what's best for them. And I'm pretty sure caving into getting them two slices of cheese pizza is not.

By indulging her child like that, she's set a precedent that will be remembered, consciously or otherwise, by that child. She spoils him now, he's going to expect it and it makes it harder for the parent to resist that child, especially because she doesn't want to make him unhappy.

My point is this: whenever I have children, I am going to punch them daily.

Favorite Web sites are deceiving us - Opinion

This is my final Opinion contribution. Not all of them have been posted online at the BG News website, so I don't have the final cuts of them all. However, I do have all of the original rough drafts that I will eventually post.


Favorite Web sites are deceiving us - Opinion

"This is the most interesting conversation I've ever had."

I was at work last night, and a co-worker and I were exchanging stories about crazy people. I told him a few of the occurrences from my days at Grounds.

The first is about this man who was telling me about medical procedures. His name was Star Traveler. He'd had it legally changed. His checks are printed with this:

Star Traveler ("Robert")

He was passing through past the counter, and I said, "Can I help you?"
He responds, "Do you have a spaceship?"
We share a laugh. I realize he's only partly joking.
He returns a short time later to the counter with a book on Native American Heritage, which I have since learned that this is the norm for Star Traveler. While I am ringing up the book, he begins telling me about the advanced ways he is used to healing people, as opposed to the way we "do things here." He describes the use of "reverse lasers," which, according to "Robert," are way less invasive than how we cut people open. He gave an example of how, if someone had a tumor, than he could use a reverse laser to draw energy out of the tumor rather than point the laser and shoot the tumor. This way, there would be no scars from the operation and there would be no risk of surgical accidents happening. He also showed me a scar on his head from his childhood where he hit his head really hard on the ceiling of a staircase. He said that if it weren't for his advanced healing practices, he would have suffered severe brain damage.

"That's rich," I thought.

In fact, the whole time, I was thinking that I love having conversations with people that are out of their minds. In no other conversation I've ever had have reverse lasers come up. I kept asking him questions and engaging his conversation because I wanted to know what else he was going to talk about. Luckily it wasn't busy at all, so I could give him my full attention.

The most interesting thing to me was the fact that he knew what he was talking about. At no point did it seem like he was making it up as he went along, or break character or anything like that. I don't know if there are aliens out there. I don't know if what he was telling me was actually true. But I will say that if he did make it all up, he definitely spent some time thinking about it, to the point that being able to explain it all was definitely within his reach of believability.

I think that, in the end, I bridged the gap between cultures that could possibly prevent the invasion and destruction of the planet Earth. Be thankful.

It wasn't hard to figure out.

It didn't take me very long to figure out that one of the bosses at my job is a complete dick.

Judging from what he said, how he said it and the way other people react to him, it took me less than a week to realize that he's a jackass.

It was confirmed tonight when, a while after I had given him the food he had ordered, my co-worker asked if he liked what I had made him. I responded, "I guess so, not that anything would make him happy at all."

My co-worker confirmed, saying, "Well, you've been here, what? Just a full week? That didn't take you too long."




I graduate in four days.

I have mind control capabilities.

Last week, I tried to wake up Amy from sleeping on the couch, fearing that she would never get to bed. In response, she somnambulistically rambled off something about robots.

Last night, Amy went to bed before I did. When I eventually came to bed, she was sleeping completely silently. I said, "Stop talking about robots."

She responds, again mostly asleep, "I wasn.....I'm sorry."

Will I use this power for good or for evil?