This will be the last post of the week. I'll be spending the next few days in Madison, registering for classes, meeting with landlords, and meeting a blogger in real life. He'll be popping my blogger meet-up cherry, so to speak, and I think I his. I don't know why I think this, but I'm excited nevertheless. I've never met a fellow blogger before, so I don't know how well my online and real-life personas match. This could get interesting.
I'll try and be completely wonderful and charming when I meet him, so that he's inspired to write fantastic things about me and you all can get your daily 'raw youth' dosage, but no guarantees--I'm leaving at five in the morning, taking placement tests for 4 hours, and then meeting him. I may not merit any interesting comments. But I'll try. This, of course, leaves an easy out for me to explain the reason I am not as cool in real life as I am online: it's the waking up before dawn and taking hours of tests that will make me boring; that's not the real me. Of course not.
Hopefully I'll use this time to recharge my blogging batteries. I am fully aware that my posts have been hit or miss lately, and I hope that I'll come back Sunday-ish funky-fresh, dressed to impress and ready to party. It's hard work, updating every day, including weekends. You should try it sometime.
See ya.
June 23, 2004
June 22, 2004
Dear stockboys at Copps,
Thank you for your patronage.
Please do not think that I do not notice your stares, your smiles, your oogling as each and every one of you checks me out as I pass through the store, and you all turn a delightful shade of pink when I return a smile or acknowledge you. It's nice to know that all of you are collectively questioning your sexuality, but I don't think I am the guy over whom you should be busting your nuts.
Contrary to popular belief, I have no plans to open a school of faggotry, and am not in the mood to deal with breaking in a newbie. Even if you aren't out to anyone else, at least be able to say to yourself that you like boys. I don't want to deal with guys who look but are too overrun with guilt or shame to touch. Guys are not allowed to blame me for turning them gay; I do not want to be seen as some sort of evil guy who tricked you into sex. If you start flirting with me and I return in kind, and you look to the floor and turn away, well, you're out of the running.
That being said, I have not had any action in nearly eight months, and your coquettish looks are greatly appreciated to this boy who is beginning to wonder if something is physically wrong with him.
I hope there isn't a memo in the break room that requires you to flirt with everyone within a five-year radius, in which case you can all bite me.
But seriously. Being checked out by one guy is nice and two can make my day, especially if it's been a while. But six in the course of a grocery trip? They are either handing out Levitra in the break room or I must have really been working it yesterday.
Please do not think that I do not notice your stares, your smiles, your oogling as each and every one of you checks me out as I pass through the store, and you all turn a delightful shade of pink when I return a smile or acknowledge you. It's nice to know that all of you are collectively questioning your sexuality, but I don't think I am the guy over whom you should be busting your nuts.
Contrary to popular belief, I have no plans to open a school of faggotry, and am not in the mood to deal with breaking in a newbie. Even if you aren't out to anyone else, at least be able to say to yourself that you like boys. I don't want to deal with guys who look but are too overrun with guilt or shame to touch. Guys are not allowed to blame me for turning them gay; I do not want to be seen as some sort of evil guy who tricked you into sex. If you start flirting with me and I return in kind, and you look to the floor and turn away, well, you're out of the running.
That being said, I have not had any action in nearly eight months, and your coquettish looks are greatly appreciated to this boy who is beginning to wonder if something is physically wrong with him.
I hope there isn't a memo in the break room that requires you to flirt with everyone within a five-year radius, in which case you can all bite me.
But seriously. Being checked out by one guy is nice and two can make my day, especially if it's been a while. But six in the course of a grocery trip? They are either handing out Levitra in the break room or I must have really been working it yesterday.
June 21, 2004
to start my blakean year
In approximately six to eight weeks, it will be my birthday. I'm not a big fan of birthdays, or of holidays in general. I'm not even a big fan of getting stuff--in fact, last Christmas, my list to Santa solely consisted donations in my name to the HRC, ACLU, Amnesty International, PETA, etc. Yes, I am a better person than you. I did get a few gifts, which was nice, but I really didn't need any of them. I now get a lot of newsletters now full of sappy stories, but as a college student, all mail is good mail.
That being said, I am a poor college student and do not turn down gifts of any sort, and am conscientious enough to give adequate leeway for shipping.
I'm debating whether or not I should make an Amazon.com wishlist. I guess I'm blegging here. Has anyone ever bought anything for anyone off of a blog's wishlist? Has anyone recieved anything? Does anyone have a wad of cash burning a hole in their fabulous jeans and wish a proper opportunity to prove your love to me? More importantly,does the whole thing make me seem like a greedy git?
Right now, I'm leaning towards not making the list, since most things I want Amazon doesn't cover (e.g. "good writing is sexy" shirt, digital camera, Bush's resignation, true love, world peace) but if anyone out there wants to prove their undying love for me with material goods, well, who am I to stand in their way?
That being said, I am a poor college student and do not turn down gifts of any sort, and am conscientious enough to give adequate leeway for shipping.
I'm debating whether or not I should make an Amazon.com wishlist. I guess I'm blegging here. Has anyone ever bought anything for anyone off of a blog's wishlist? Has anyone recieved anything? Does anyone have a wad of cash burning a hole in their fabulous jeans and wish a proper opportunity to prove your love to me? More importantly,does the whole thing make me seem like a greedy git?
Right now, I'm leaning towards not making the list, since most things I want Amazon doesn't cover (e.g. "good writing is sexy" shirt, digital camera, Bush's resignation, true love, world peace) but if anyone out there wants to prove their undying love for me with material goods, well, who am I to stand in their way?
June 20, 2004
Dear Madison,
Please stop sucking. I was all excited to meet Nate, the first blogger whom I would meet in real life, when I get an email from you that exposed your crappiness. You had called two weeks earlier to ask my Major so I could be placed with the proper advisor. While we were on the phone, you told me that I made it into the session on June 25-26, so I asked off from work those days and made plans to meet up with Nate once I met with a few landlords to find an apartment.
However. I get an email from you Sunday afternoon, which was a shock because who would have thought you'd be open on a Sunday in the summer, asking me to repeat the information you had called to verify two weeks prior. You then mentioned that once you had that information, you would sign me up for the proper registration session.
Au contraire, I said in a snotty French accent. I already have plans for this week. I will be attending this week's registration, to which you reply "Um, we're not sure." The same problem happened to me last year, so I made sure to verify my dates as to ask off work. Now I find that you have failed.
You are a failure, Registration Department at UW Madison. Please stop sucking, or I will be forced to resent you forever.
Love,
Bob.
(edit: Apparently, some one got sick and had to reschedule, so everything works out and I'm good for this weekend. Still, Madison can bite me.)
However. I get an email from you Sunday afternoon, which was a shock because who would have thought you'd be open on a Sunday in the summer, asking me to repeat the information you had called to verify two weeks prior. You then mentioned that once you had that information, you would sign me up for the proper registration session.
Au contraire, I said in a snotty French accent. I already have plans for this week. I will be attending this week's registration, to which you reply "Um, we're not sure." The same problem happened to me last year, so I made sure to verify my dates as to ask off work. Now I find that you have failed.
You are a failure, Registration Department at UW Madison. Please stop sucking, or I will be forced to resent you forever.
Love,
Bob.
(edit: Apparently, some one got sick and had to reschedule, so everything works out and I'm good for this weekend. Still, Madison can bite me.)
June 19, 2004
Ahem.
So I was (cough cough) reading (and definately not oogling) my mom's People magazinelast night--the fifty most eligible bachelors? Yes, please. To paraphrase the Donnas, I'd do 50 boys in 50 nights. Hell, I'd do 50 boys in 50 hours, except for that I wouldn't like to kick out of bed at the sixty minute mark. Yum.
Anyway, after definately not oogling the magazine, I skimmed the rest of it, and came across a little sidebar.
Apparently, Alanis Morissette is engaged to Ryan Reynolds. Or, in other words, God is marrying Van Wilder.
Discuss.
Anyway, after definately not oogling the magazine, I skimmed the rest of it, and came across a little sidebar.
Apparently, Alanis Morissette is engaged to Ryan Reynolds. Or, in other words, God is marrying Van Wilder.
Discuss.
My Ridiculously Raw Youth: A One Act
Me: (exasperated sigh)
Mildly Attractive Coworker: Yeah. I know. When do you get off?
Me: I get off at 5:30.
Mildly Attractive Coworker: Ah, that's not bad.
Me: I can't wait to get off. Getting off is the best.
(Mildly Attractive Coworker stares blankly until a customer interrupts the awkwardness.)
Curtain.
Mildly Attractive Coworker: Yeah. I know. When do you get off?
Me: I get off at 5:30.
Mildly Attractive Coworker: Ah, that's not bad.
Me: I can't wait to get off. Getting off is the best.
(Mildly Attractive Coworker stares blankly until a customer interrupts the awkwardness.)
Curtain.
June 18, 2004
Now how does that song go again?
Yesterday, on my way home from work, I looked to the sky, and found that it was neon green. In the distance I could see the outlines of what looked like pigs flying past the horizon, but I paid no mind.
I later got home and checked my email and had no spam messages whatsoever, though I did recieve an email stating that PayPal was apologizing for being idiots, and another that said Fred Phelps was caught in a threesome with George W Bush and RuPaul on Air Force One. Flipping through the stations, I caught the tail end of a commentary saying that the center of the earth had frozen solid, and that excavators had unearthed a snowball that still maintained its icy shape. After that story, I saw that Fox News had a glowing review of the new Michael Moore film.
And that's when my jaw dropped.
I later got home and checked my email and had no spam messages whatsoever, though I did recieve an email stating that PayPal was apologizing for being idiots, and another that said Fred Phelps was caught in a threesome with George W Bush and RuPaul on Air Force One. Flipping through the stations, I caught the tail end of a commentary saying that the center of the earth had frozen solid, and that excavators had unearthed a snowball that still maintained its icy shape. After that story, I saw that Fox News had a glowing review of the new Michael Moore film.
And that's when my jaw dropped.
June 17, 2004
...though some would say that Bush is already flaming...
I'm sure that you all will agree with me when I say that Fark.com is inundated with slow-minded, closeted, bigoted freaks, and is therefore a huge ass waste of time.
Lately, I've been getting my random-links-to-waste-time fix sated by catch.com, which is blatant in its Republican bashing, and the comments are pertinent and have a better chance of being witty than their Fark counterparts. Plus, they have better automated titles: Fuck peace, I masturbate for the glory, The Christ dude told me it wasn't him, it was Kris Kristofferson, I hate cheerleaders (except for the drunk ones), Russell Crowe should be sprayed with dingo urine, Superheroes don't need calculus!, etc. There are only about 20 links per day, so we're talking cream of the crop here. Fark may have the quantity, but Catch has the quality.
Yesterday, one of the link taglines was so incredibly brilliant that I felt the need to share it with you all.
Bush tells Pope, "God hates Kerry." Pope asks, "Shouldn't you have set yourself ablaze before playing telephone with God & me?"
I swear, I laughed for an unreasonably long amount of time when I heard that.
Lately, I've been getting my random-links-to-waste-time fix sated by catch.com, which is blatant in its Republican bashing, and the comments are pertinent and have a better chance of being witty than their Fark counterparts. Plus, they have better automated titles: Fuck peace, I masturbate for the glory, The Christ dude told me it wasn't him, it was Kris Kristofferson, I hate cheerleaders (except for the drunk ones), Russell Crowe should be sprayed with dingo urine, Superheroes don't need calculus!, etc. There are only about 20 links per day, so we're talking cream of the crop here. Fark may have the quantity, but Catch has the quality.
Yesterday, one of the link taglines was so incredibly brilliant that I felt the need to share it with you all.
Bush tells Pope, "God hates Kerry." Pope asks, "Shouldn't you have set yourself ablaze before playing telephone with God & me?"
I swear, I laughed for an unreasonably long amount of time when I heard that.
June 16, 2004
ode to pretty boys who were my poetry class.
soft-willed infantalists who are
afraid their testosterone might leak
write banalities like
"I am a prisoner of war
in the battle of the sexes"
I wish to take those boys
and lock lips in the midst of a mosh pit
just so they get pissed
it's better to be hated than to behave
besides, anger makes better art than clichés
afraid their testosterone might leak
write banalities like
"I am a prisoner of war
in the battle of the sexes"
I wish to take those boys
and lock lips in the midst of a mosh pit
just so they get pissed
it's better to be hated than to behave
besides, anger makes better art than clichés
June 15, 2004
That's not how I would make a youth raw.....
| How to make a raw youth |
| Ingredients: 1 part friendliness 5 parts humour 1 part joy |
| Method: Blend at a low speed for 30 seconds. Serve with a slice of lustfulness and a pinch of salt. Yum! |
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