Post Number 22

In case anyone wants to know, I have forsaken the beard, since basically, it looked like crap. I could not bear it. It was a monstrosity, unkempt, untamed. I could not bear the responsibility of taking care of it.

The problem with these blogs are is that there will always be someone doing the same thing you are. Try searching about anything you write. Chances are it's already been done before.

Cow testicles. Done.
Monkey assassins. Done.
Fluorescent chalk. Done.

Maybe I should get a little more creative.

I'm starting to choose my classes for next year. By choose, I mean one, since every other course is predetermined. I have one option next year, and I should make the most of it.

I'm looking at stuff ranging from Film Studies, or Drama, or Badminton, among others. I am looking for something fun, easy, and non-Pharmacy related. Enough with the drugs already. I want something where thought is not so structured and geared towards memorization. I've had enough of that for now. A reprieve, a change of pace would be appreciated. I'll probably end up taking something like The Anthropology of Star Trek.


A couple things I discovered on the Internet:

What was Samuel L. Jackson thinking, doing this movie? Maybe he's got a nasty cocaine habit or he's a comic visionary. It's called Snakes on a Plane, which could be either the best or worst movie ever. Decide for yourself.




I have been watching Celebrity Jeopardy, at least the SNL version. Freaking brilliant. Brings me to tears.

Oh, Mr. Connery, why do you have to be so mean to Alex Trebek? What did he do to you?

Why I Forsook Shaving

So I recently stopped shaving last week. Why, you might ask?

Well, I really wanted to do something to prevent world hunger.

And I thought that by not shaving, it would draw attention to the fact that my act of not shaving is symbolic of the struggles that people living in third world countries face everyday. I mean, why worry about trivialities like shaving when you can't put enough food on the table?

People have commented on my beard, which surprising looks like a goatee, only spread out sparsely, like a dab of butter knifed too thinly onto a slice of toast.

I know the beard looks absurb. Oriental people, save a select few, are not gifted with the proper physical attributes to grow facial hair with distinction. Rather, they are much more likely to be mocked because the beard lacks that certain fullness suggestive of rugged masculinity. Unfortunately, I lack that critical hair density required to achieve that full effect.

Fortunately, it is relatively symmetrical, for which I am grateful, so that from a distance, it may look somewhat respectable. There are a few barren patches, most notably one above the middle of my upper lip. I must be honest, though. There are a few stray hairs here and there that I have selectively shaven to achieve a more balanced look.

Even my mom thinks I look crazy. She's like, "You look like a bum. Why are you doing this? You should do this when you're older, when you'll be mature and more respectable, not when you are a student."

But her complaints must go unheeded. I must stay true to myself and my convictions.

Do You Have Rhythm?

Some people say I'm a pretty good dancer. That's why some people said as I broke out some moves at the Blue and Gold Ball, the annual dinner for pharmacy students, where everybody dresses up, all hoity-toity like.

"Smooth" you might say. That's what one girl said to me. Honestly, I think some people are on crack.

They must be mistaking flailing my arms and legs senselessly in an epileptic fit as dancing. Just because I can move my arms and legs doesn't mean I have soul or rhythm, or what black people call the "shiznit". You need coordination, the footwork. It's a minor miracle I don't fall down or knock somebody down every time I get on the dance floor .

I have never taken dance lessons. Well, excluding that time in Grade 8 called social dance. But that was a time when the boys and girls would huddle off into their respective segregated corners of the gym, all awkwardly glancing at their feet or nervously looking at the other side. Still others would eagerly anticipate their chance to dance with that person you've always secretly been admiring. That is until, you notice that your partner's hands are sweating like crazy. At least I know if Cadillac Ranch plays, I can show off my line dancing.

In fact, anyone can perform such moves as the Shopping Cart, the Lawnmower and the 'Gunshot to the Head'. It's really quite simple: You can do anything you want on the dance floor and you can be considered progressive, as long as you don't care what people think.

WEATHER ADVISORY

Cold weather alert! An unseasonably large snowfall is expected today. Farmers making a pact with the devil have been implicated in the manner.

If you have any 'Yo quiero Taco Bell' sized pets, DO NOT let them walk outside because they will certainly drown in the snow. And they'll freeze to death anyway in this weather.

Who wants hot dogs?

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So I was sitting there with Mike, listening to the sweet sultry tunes of the Afrofunk-Latin-ska-reggae-TexMex fusion band. The beats from the conga drums were making my internal organs do the salsa. Although I did not understand the words, I understood the sexy voice singing it. I had a pint in my hand, oblivious to the outside world. The weather was warm .

A warm tropical breeze permeated the air. The beach.

If a suicide bomber had come at that moment and blown up the bar, he was too late, because I was already in paradise.

But I had a question, "Why would he wear a pullover in this warm weather?"