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February 17, 2003
Egg Foo Young
In Health class, we divided up into pairs ("couples") and received an egg baby.
Matthew and I are the proud parents of Bobbi Su Changman, seen below.
click me!
If there was any doubt in the first place:
Yes, I'm a bigger loser than you.
February 14, 2003
Tiny Nuggets and Tinny Music of Love
Isn't it funny how when the dentist tells you that you're not allowed to eat for the next hour, it seems like the longest, hungriest hour of your entire life?
I spent about 3 hours in the waiting room of the dentist's office and roughly 15 minutes actually in the chair with some nervous woman picking at my teeth like it was the last night on earth.
Then, I waited for my mom.. It took three shots of novocaine before they could finally put her out of her misery for a filling.
The three hours of waiting time was not misspent, however, as I read through about a dozen National Geographic Magazines from 2001, and also a few Highlights magazines.
Man.
The people that write Highlights must be high on something. Their stories are so. Weird.
Example: The Timbertoes (a cartoon about wooden Pinnochio-like puppets or something):
Dad and Mom are making presents.
Sister is making presents, too.
Chip goes outside with the dog to find things to make presents with.
They find lots of branches, twigs, and leaves.
Chip goes out to play with the dog.
Uh oh! Here's a hungry goat!
Where did all the presents go?
What? A hungry goat??
Those Highlights people.....
Halfway through a very graphic article in National Geographic August 2001 about walruses, the door burst open, allowing an overly brisk wind and a large, sweaty, fat man wearing short sleeves (it must have been 0 degrees outside) to enter.
He waddled in, gasping for air, and plopped into the seat next to mine.
Startled, I whipped my head back and forth, from the pictures of walruses to the man, comparing, contrasting, contemplating.
They looked exactly the same.
I was sitting next to a human walrus.
After a surprisingly short time of probably two and a half minutes, in which I studied him scrutinously for evidence of his walrus tusks and thick, waterproof skin, the man fell asleep with his five chins resting on top of his own massive chest, snoring contently.
It was a very cute sight, watching this probably 500 pound man, squished into a tiny leather chair, sleeping in his own filth, tiny Cheez-Nips crumbs rattling in his moustache.
Then the funny-looking immigrant guy on the other side of the waiting room squirmed in his chair for a bit before emitting the loudest, scariest fart I have ever heard in a public place.
I love the dentist's office.
What a big waste of time.
Hmm........
Well, anyway,
Happy Valentine's Day!
February 9, 2003
Bi-Curious George
KEVlNCORRlGAN: blaaaaaaaaa
spinkies55: oh my god
KEVlNCORRlGAN: ?
spinkies55: my
spinkies55: anal lovehole
KEVlNCORRlGAN: is it broken?
spinkies55: i feel like i've been raped
KEVlNCORRlGAN: why?
spinkies55: my cheeks
spinkies55: they've been spread open like peanut butter on bread
spinkies55: it hurts
spinkies55: i'm all bruised
spinkies55: my wrists hurt too :/
KEVlNCORRlGAN: what happened?
spinkies55: owww
spinkies55: i can't even sit
KEVlNCORRlGAN: did you have butt sex?
Yes, yes I did have butt sex... with an enormous mountain.
I went snowboarding today.
Let me tell you, for those of you who have never gone:
DO NOT GO SNOWBOARDING. STAY HOME. STAY DRY AND WARM. DO NOT EVEN ATTEMPT IT.
I think the best part was being able to wear these cool ski goggles..
There were way too many little kids that I was afraid of pummeling into on the way down, so I'd make kamikaze dives into the snow to save them at the expense of my own life.
Fucking kids.
I should've knocked into a few of them just to teach them a lesson.
Oh, my sweet, tender, soft lovehole. :(
Also. IT IS HARD TO GET UP after you fall on your butt and wrists the entire day.
However, if you have good balance, and are not slightly retarded as I am, perhaps you will not suffer the same fate as I did.
Many a time I just lied in a pile of snow, motionless, whining, "JUST LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE ALONE, GO ON WITHOUT ME!"
Ow.
The first few times I went down the mountain, when I fell, I just hurt my bum a bit, and fell hard on my hands, but the last few times I went, I somehow slid sideways on my butt, and my one cheek would skid down the snow, totally stretching and hurting my secondary lovehole.
I feel like this has been my first night in prison with my new best friend: a large, well-endowed black inmate named Big Tommy Knockerz.
It felt like someone was tattooing a DaVinci on my tender poopchute with turkey baster-sized tattoo needles.
It is the most awful pain you could ever, ever imagine.
And there's nothing you could even do about the horrible, paralyzing pain except kinda cry about it a little and ask people who aren't wearing enormous incapacitating ski gloves to pick your horrendous wedgie while you're down.
A few times, I just wanted to lie in the snow and pretend I was dead.
Then maybe someone would call the paramedics, and I would be taken down the mountain on a stretcher with some dignity, instead of tumbling head over heels, hurting my tender, precious bum, and crushing my kibbles and bits...
The food was good though, but I wonder if it was worth a Jackson (Is Andrew Jackson on a 20 dollar bill?) plus 14 cents for burgers, fries, and a coke.
But that's life, that's the U.S. economy for you.
And all of the french fries in the world can not remedy my poor precious bum.
It's totally frustrating.
Before I went, I told myself that I wouldn't cry like a baby.
After the third time I started crying like a baby, I said FUCK YOU WORLD.
I went inside and asked for a refill for my 3 dollar foam cup of Diet Coke.
They said "No."
Fuck you, mountain.
Fuck you, overpriced crazy people.
Fuck you, stupid 4 year old skiiers that are better than I am.
There's me riding off into the sunset, and into the trees.
Yeap.
Yeap yeap yeap.
Welp.
Thanks Anthony for the .. unforgettable day out at Mountain Creek.
Thanks, you sadistic bastard.
Hurtling down a mountainside on a small piece of plastic, smashing into little kids on skis.....
Seriously, people do this for FUN?!
February 8, 2003
You're different and that's bad.
I had an alumni interview for Harvard this afternoon. My interviewer was an incredibly nice, older gentleman by the name of Mr. Schivell.
I told myself that I wasn't nervous, but I could tell by the fact that my armpits were soaking wet that I was actually very, very nervous indeed.
The first part started off a bit bumpily, since I wasn't sure what he had or had not already found out about me from my application. It turned out that the answer was 'absolutely nothing.' So we had to just get to know each other from scratch.
Now here's where it gets weird.
For some reason, we started talking about teddybears.
Teddybears.
Mind you, Mr. Schivell was part of the Class of '63, and estimating that he spent a good 4 years or so in Harvard starting from when he was 18 in the year 1959, that would make him about 62 years old.
The last five to ten minutes or so of our hour-long interview consisted of us talking about his Gund teddybear collection, and how he wants to write a book about them. Having never actually seen a Gund teddybear, I requested such a privilege.
Much too excited to oblige for his own good, he jumped up and stumbled up the stairs, shouting,
"NOW I DON'T DO THIS FOR ALL THE APPLICANTS!!"
and I could hear his footsteps clobbering around upstairs as I waited awkwardly down on the couch below.
And oh my god.
Mr. Theodore (I think that was his name? The line is called "Mr. Snuffles") was SO CUTE!!!!!!!!!!
Oh man. This 62 year old man must have the (THE) best teddybear collection in the WORLD.
Up until this point I had been holding in 60 minutes and 27 seconds of coughing; I was just getting over an awful cold, and was so proud that not even the tiniest cough had escaped throughout the entire interview.
And then I was overcome by an unbelievable coughing fit, and I think I grossed him out while I hacked and hawed, voice filling up with mucus, atmosphere filling up with microorganisms destined for his own lungs.
Oh well.
It's not like I want to go to Harvard anyway.
February 6, 2003
Why can't Mr. Fork and Ms. Electrical Outlet be friends?
[Disclaimer: I may or may not have posted something very very similar to this article elsewhere online. If you have seen this already, move along. :)]
Ah... a delicious sight to see..
lots of fat girls who very visibly wear microscopic thongs.
I'm usually not one to make a consciencious effort to jump on any bandwagons, but after seeing so many little triangles of lace, embedded between two enormous cheeks, peeking out from every girl's waistband, I knew I had to see if thongs were all that they're cracked up to be.
So, here we have Exhibit A and Exhibit B, picked meticulously out of the filthy bargain bin at Wet Seal:
 
Upon trying them on, I experienced a... not-incredibly comfortable... feeling.
Like flossing your cheeks with..... buttfloss.
So I secretly threw them in the wash (my mom would probably turn purple if she knew I own any thongs) and decided to explore:
The Exciting New World of Alternate Uses of Thongs!!!!!!
A comfy mini hammock, a slingshot to propel Snuggles into large hammock full of animalia, or a parachute!
  
Wait! It gets better!
Got a nose job? Or something just smell funny? Recover with style!
Want to look like skatta? (Who doesn't!) Or, want to complete that Amish Peasant costume?
Pop one of these babies on your head!
 
Voila!
Those T-shirt Ninjas, man, those are like, SO last year!
This year it's all about the Thong Ninjas!!!
  
Remember the sideways visor look that is so HIP and DOWN in da 'hood?
  
Awwwwwjea! Yo yo yo!
Need an eyepatch? Or feeling.. ARRRRRRoused?
 
Thongs work in a pinch!
Also, it is a tasty snack!
The End.
P.S. I'm sorry.
Daddy drinks because you cry
Ah.... Health class.
How I missed the 1/2 semester of failed body building majors (a.k.a. gym teachers) screaming and blowing whistles at us.. in a classroom.
Clad in their festively colorful stretch-pants with the classic fem-mullets, Ms. Lags and Ms. Mulvey liven up the class with talk of STDs, contraceptives, and date rape (when "NO" means "YES!").
Today, we had to fill out a packet detailing various contraceptive devices..
Adam called across the room of 65 people, "MALLORY! WHAT'S A CERVICAL SPONGE?"
Mallory is the slightly stumpy, slightly rounded, very slutty girl who wears very, very, very small, microscopic clothes.
"I'M NOT GOING TO YELL TO YOU ABOUT IT ACROSS THE ROOM!" she replied, yelling to him about it across the room.
Adam looked at Ms. Mulvey and complained,
"It's not fair! Mallory's going to get a 100 because she's a big SLUT."
A hush fell across the room.
Someone coughed, another person dropped their pencil, both which resounded like gunshots.
The girl sitting next to Adam (whose breath always smelled like shoe polish) fainted, fell out of her chair, and started to choke on her tongue.
Ah... Health class.. how I've missed you.
February 1, 2003
Going back to medieval times..
My dad's the best plumber in the world.
Well, upon trying to fix a drippy, leaky shower, my dad somehow shut down all of the running water in the entire house.
We have no running water.
Well, I guess that's not entirely true, but whenever you have to flush the toilet, you have to go downstairs into the broom closet and pull up this big lever.. and when you flush, the shower upstairs runs like crazy.
Hm.
So, we're reverting back to the old times, where we have a big tub of water and a little ladle to scoop it out..
Yeah, we're pretty ghetto....
My dad's also the best gardener..
We have no front lawn..
Once, when he was trying to cut down a tree in our backyard (for no apparent reason, really..), he succeeded, only to crush two apple trees we had just planted, killing them both.
On a separate topic, here's Luigi!
 
 
Yup. Alright, I'm going back to sleep..
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