Friday, November 29, 2002
on a local radio station this was heard at 2 in the morning last night, apparently there was a tv show in japan that was recently cancelled. its title is translated as "Extremely Poor Crying Girl Takes Off Her Gear". it seems the show consisted only of 2 girls playing paper, rocks, and scissors and whoever lost took off there clothes. those classy japanese.
david, my older brother, sent me this email which cheered me up quite a bit. enjoy it as i did.
Analogies and Metaphors Found in High School Essays:
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p. m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
"Oh, Jason, take me!"; she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill. ) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
Analogies and Metaphors Found in High School Essays:
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p. m. instead of 7:30.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
"Oh, Jason, take me!"; she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill. ) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.
Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
ok, first things first, this is dedicated to stephanie niro because she, unlike most in the country, has to work today and that is horrible. i have recently realized that i cannot stand my family. my brothers and sister are the only ones that i ever want to see again. my mom has her moments. and my dad doesnt count cause i barely see him anyway. mike (my brother) and i were sitting there as usual after the food had been served and eaten. we were both thinking the same thing but he was the one to actually say it. "its like after we eat im just counting down the minutes till we can leave". it was so true. i spent a good while thinking of any place i would less like to be. jail came to mind, but in jail you dont have annoying cousins whom you dont like nor evil aunts and uncles asking you over and over again how school is going. i decided that if i had the choice of spending that amount of time in jail or with the extended family i would choose jail. it sounds a little dramatic, but i swear its true. then mike and i began naming dollar amounts we would pay in order to leave at that very moment. i believe the highest total was 50 for me, and 30 for him. i truly believe that that is what hell is like. i cannot imagine a more uncomfortable or awkward place that i so desperately wanted to leave.
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
my town is the best. check out the police website. notice that there are no unsolved crimes. way to go guys. upon further analysis which im sure no one will do, you'll see that we have 9 policemen several of which are also firemen, and our chief of police majored in music studies in college. what it doesnt say is that he was a DJ for a local radio station for several years before being fired. he is, however, the only one of those pricks that doesnt deserve to be run over by a tractor trailer truck.
i just found out that today we are going to be released at 3 which is awesome, and as a second bit of good news i found out i get some kind of absurd discount on anything to do with gillette. its like 60 cents for 4 AA batteries. needless to say everyone in my family will be getting shaving cream, toothbrushes, blades and batteries for christmas.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
the sign outside the building i work in is covered with a blue tarp which looks pretty ugly and unprofessional. from time to time as i sit at my desk and wander aimlessly around the internet why they would leave it there. my curiousity finally overwhelmed me and i asked dinah what the deal with it was. apparently one side of the sign says duracell, which makes sense because this facility formarly was dedicated only to duracell. this was however in 1996. the other side of the sign used to have a gillette sign on it. it seems that that sign was removed and used on or in gillette stadium. why they couldnt spring for a new sign no one can answer.
Monday, November 25, 2002
my friend tim smith lives in a treehouse. he drives a volkswagen bus, and makes bread for a living. he just approached these people in southern vermont and asked if he could build a treehouse on their land. in return he does some landscaping (painting, mowing the lawn, trimming bushes, gardening, etc) for them. he also said when he leaves they are free to have the treehouse to do what they will with it. he is one of those kids who says, "i think im going to go to california", and that day quits their job and goes. ive told this story to several people, most recently stephanie, and the reaction is always the same. thats awesome. i wish i could do that. for some time i have been thinking to myself why i cant just do that. say, to hell with school for now, and just do whatever the hell i want. spontaneity is a hard thing to learn however. some people can just do it. i cannot. steph and i settled on an acceptable scapegoat for this: society. admittedly it is an easy scapegoat to pick, but when reasoned out perhaps youll agree. ever since i was a kid ive been waiting for my time. ive always felt like i had to hold back, because of something in the future. in highschool i had to get good grades and study because i needed to get into a good college. now that im in college, i have to study and work hard so that i can get a good job. why? so i can make a good life for my family. does that sound like happiness? maybe for some, but it is difficult for me to believe that everyone should follow this exact recipe. as steph said "its too hard to break away from what society tells you is happiness.. like you must live in a house with a white picket fence, make a lot of money, get married have kids, etc..(for example) ... thats what we aim for ... but when we get it.. it isnt necessarily happiness.. in fact.. its usually not.. but its funny cause while i realize this.. i still want it.. and would never do anything like that [live in a treehouse] which would stray me from that goal". now i am going to steal from a book she is/was reading: "we dont see the truth because we are blind. what blinds us are all those false beliefs we have in our mind. we have the need to be right and to make others wrong.. we trust what we believe and our beliefs set us up for suffering". stupid society sets up all of these rules that are so ingrained into our heads, are almost, if not, inescapable. i keep thinking, alright, after college ill be able to do what i want. but secretly in my head i doubt this is true. i would like to take 5 years to travel the country, the globe, without a plan or anything. just wing it, and end up working on somebodys farm in sweden for cash to get to paris. and then from there choose somewhere else id like to go. just live life instead of all of the bullshit that goes on now. find a way to enjoy life rather than trying to survive it. maybe there will be no way out, who knows. i wish i could just start over knowing what i know now: to not worry so much about the little things that seem so insignificant now, but were huge growing up. maybe that would make me feel more fulfilled, cause what im doin now isnt working. the bottom line and central message you should take out of this is that society is a cocksucker, and i hate it. plus i like to bitch about stuff. fuck it, maybe ill just get drunk.
Sunday, November 24, 2002
i travelled to unh last night and saw just under a billion people i havent seen for close to a thousand years. an honorable mentions goes to tohr, whom i havent seen for 6 years if not more. also, ashley lalamiuere (i have no idea on the spelling), who is one of my good friends younger sisters has grown up into a hottie. the last time i saw her, she was in like 6th grade and now she is smokin'. damn. i must have been really drunk because i woke up with some gum in my mouth that i had apparently put in the night before. i was very surprised to find it in my mouth this morning and i think that the gums flavor changed from cinnamon to death over night cause it tasted horrible. at first i thought it was a piece of food i was eating when i passed out. boy that was weird.