Saturday Morning

I was walk of shaming my way home this morning at 9:00 and had made it about half way home when my stomach was all like “Fuck you.” And I’m like fuck you too stomach, and it’s all like I’m gonna puke, and im like, fine then do it, I was gonna need room for ihop anyways and my stomach is like, fine then, maybe I wi- blaaaaargh. When I finished puking I got up off my knees and thought, wow, I really hope no one saw that. And thats when I realized I was in the front yard of a church. A church that was just letting out, and there are like twenty people just staring at me. Some mom is covering her kids eyes, and I can’t say I blame her. I probably looked like I just suffered an exorcism. Anyways, I waved politely and kept shuffling home.

Glen Beck is A Gay Parent?

My Twin?!

A little 9/11 humor for you courtesy of the ASU sketch comedy team. Too soon? Not when its funny.

How to Fall Off a Chairlift. Twice.

I’m a decent skier. Let me just throw that out there before we go any further. I was on a racing team. Okay, I promise I’m done now. And for balance I’m a horrible snowboarder. I David Blained my way to a concussion and nice unconscious slide into a ditch the last time I snowboarded. And that was on the bunny hill. But seriously, I can ski, and I’ve been on plenty of lifts. That day, however, was different. I was skiing with my buddy Dan, and we had been working our across the mountain hill (Wisconsin skiing) to the more advanced runs. These runs had their own lifts that operated much faster, and only sat two riders. Perfect. Well we line up at the load line and thats when Dan started to slide backwards. Lucky enough for him, the chair just hit him and he sat down. Unlucky for me, the chair began to swing back as Dan sat down, and when it swung forward it caught me square in the lower back. Being the idiot that I am, I grabbed the railing of the chairlift and hung on for dear life. As I rose higher and higher, I realized I had to let go and just fall here, minimize the height from which I fell. (Yay!) As I let go, though, Dan decided to suddenly become a hero. His timing was terrible. As I fell, he grabbed my jacket hood with both hands. As I struggled to gargle out the words “release me,” people started yelling for ski patrol. When I finally got my point across to Dan, he dropped me and I landed amongst a worried crowd. Bruised ass and ego, but no other damage. But fuck these people now, they’re all laughing at me. I’m headed to another lift. So I trudged over to a “family” lift. A real slow one with four seats. As I got in line I realized that there was only one pole to hold onto and no safety bar, not really that family safe but whatever. That pole, though, was importantly located on the far left, so that only one seat had something to hold onto, and then the middle two were just holding on to each other and the last guy had a flimsy railing that gave the illusion of safety. I got lucky seat number three, which was fine because we all got on just fine. But then Captain Retard to my left decides to miraculously catch, not one, but both of his ski tips. This has sufficient force to swing the entire chair back, threatening to dump us all before CR’s bindings blew out and we swung forward, catapulting yours truly into the top of a short pine. And that, my friends, is how you fall off a lift twice.

Smokeback Mountain: A buddy of mine re-cut pineapple express to create a trailer for a very different film.

(Source: funthingswithandrew)



How Wednesday Almost Killed Me…

So I’m in no way shape or form prepared to write this story right now cuz its 5:31 in the morning and I have no idea where Friday managed to go. I think TGIF the restaurant chain may have managed to copyright that entire day but I’m not really sure. Anyways, clearly I’m still alive so this story has a happy ending. Hoorah! That spelling can’t be right. So, story time, right, got it, it started innocently enough with some partying. Which led to finding a glow-in-the-dark party at a friends. Which led to getting roofied for the first time in my life. Yeah, I don’t really know how to spell that either. Apparently when you get roofied these days it means behaving like a special needs infant with superpowers. I say this because I somehow managed to move ten miles north in only 45 minutes of walking? Clearly someone picked me up but the disturbing fact is I have no idea. The only memory strong enough to penetrate the blackout haze of this morning was actually pretty horrible. According to the blackout box in my head, I managed to escape the coma that was being roofied long enough to realize I was walking down the middle of a freeway in the middle of a dangerous Native American reservation. I was tackled by an off duty cop and thrown in the back of a pickup for the ten mile!?!? drive all the way back to campus where I originated. He screamed at my idiocy, I managed to put together HELP ME, and somehow I got home. Lesson learned, mom was right, I probably shouldn’t leave my drink alone at a party, especially if I’m drinking a chick drink like Jungle Juice :?


As the lucky son of a biologist who loves all the crazy creatures of this world, I’ve gotten to see a lot of this planet. My favorite place, though, has got to be Australia. I’m actually studying abroad in Brisbane next semester and can’t wait to get my SCUBA on in the Great Barrier Reef. Hopefully soon I can find time to post my Hit By A Shark story. Everyone’s got one right?

I’m loving Kid Cudi’s latest genre-bending album. Plus bonus points for having a great sense of humor.