Category Archives: Old blog
Paranoia
If you’re not careful, you’ll catch it too
The other day, I caught the flu. For those of you unsure, here’s a list of its symptoms:
- flu-like symptoms
I told this to my girlfriend, who googled these symptoms and became immediately convinced that I had the West Nile Virus. Meanwhile, my parents, certain that it’s only possible to catch a flu during the Winter, did some research of their own and concluded that I had “prostatitis,” despite the fact that I only had one of the diseases’ five symptoms (and I quote: “flu-like symptoms”).
At first I thought my family had just lost their minds, but as I was preparing to have them institutionalized, I happened to accidentally change the channel to a local news station. Within fifteen minutes, they had me convinced that I was going to die of SARS, West Nile, Ebola, Bird Flu, Mad Cow Disease, Smallpox, Anthrax, and E. Coli, after being stung by a swarm of African killer bees, stabbed through the heart by a stingray, having my leg bitten off by a shark and my house blown down by a hurricane, being raped and murdered by a serial killer, blown up by a terrorist, and dying of cancer from typing this with a laptop near my genitals.
All at the same time.
According to my calculations (which are so complex that if I even began to try to explain them to you, your head would explode), there is exactly a 0.0% chance of any of my readers dying from any or all of the above diseases/catastrophes. However, the chances are much greater of one of you dying from obesity, a drug-related gun shot wound, or, for those of you who have had sex and are here by mistake, AIDS.
So, in conclusion, I offer you some hurried and poorly-transitioned advice: put down the pork rolls, turn off the TV, and get some exercise, you fat bastard.
Civilization
a brief monologue by BlueRaja
Here we are: the water aisle. I don’t understand why they’d need an entire aisle for water – how many kinds of water could there possibly be?
Oh gosh, look at all the different flavors. I never thought I’d see the day when people would pay money for flavored water…and look, this flavored water is carbinated. How is that any different from diet soda?
Wait, isn’t this that stuff that CNN said caused cancer?
Okay, back on track, Raja; you’re here to buy some water. Just normal, plain old water. Now where is it?
Well, here’s some “Spring Water” – that sounds farly clean. But what is this? “Purified Water.” Don’t they purify the stuff that comes from springs? Is this non-spring water that’s gone through the same process? What about this “Distilled Water?” Is that any cleaner than this purified water? I wonder if it comes from a spring.
Hey, look. This container says “Drinking Water.” Does that mean the other waters weren’t for drinking?
Wait, isn’t drinking water free?
Maybe I’ll just get some of that flavored water. I’ve always wondered what it would taste like if someone genetically mixed water and cherries, if water had genes.
But, I don’t want cancer…I heard on CNN that it’s not very good for you.
I wonder if they purify the water before they add the flavors to it…
Perhaps I should just get the drinking water. After all, I do intend on drinking it..but, what if it’s not pure? What if it’s not safe to drink? I could take a bottle of mercury and label it “drinking mercury;” that doesn’t make it any safer to drink.. what if the drinking water is just the purified water that wasn’t pure enough to pass all the pure water tests? And what the hell does distilled mean?
Maybe I’ll just get a can of soda. Yeah, that sounds safe. A nice, air-tight can of soda.
Hmm…but according to the label, the number one ingredient is “water.” That’s it. “Water.” What if it’s not pure water? What if it’s actually pond water? What if Coca-Cola takes the water that’s not pure enough or springy enough to be Dasani and uses it for their sodas?
AHH!!! To heck with this, there are just too many choices here; I’m going to the coffee aisle instead.
Dear Blog,
I really wish I had time to pay more attention to you; however, the constant onslaught of video games, movies, and late-night pizza that college has provided me with has not only stinted my creativity, but left me with very little time for the more important things in life, such as you. I wish I could tell you that I still love you the way I used to; I wish I could tell you that you still bring the same joy and excitement that you have in times past. However, things change, and I’m not nineteen anymore: I’m nineteen-and-a-half, a huge difference in the eyes of the real world. Perhaps in another life, things could have turned out differently… but it’s too late for that. I wish for you not to look into the past, and what could-have-been, but towards the future, and what will-be. Don’t let my leaving you be a thorn in your side; rather, let it be an inspiration to do better in times to come, and to be a better person…er…weblog.
In closing, Blog, there is really only one thing left for me to do before we part. The one thing, the only thing, that any kind, decent, loving American male could do to help another in need: I leave you, Blog, with only a picture of two large, succulent boobies. May it help you to pass the time well.
Good bye Blog…
Don’t you just hate people who update simply for the sake of updating?
Teach a Man to Fish
and he’ll shoot at you and steal your boat
Recently, a friend and I were having a deep-rooted philosophical discussion, in which we came to two conclusions:
- I must be the only college student who manages to keep an online blog without simultaneously juggling a serious mental-retardation problem; case and point.
- The only two things that have been in the news for the past week have been gas prices and dead Southerners. Here’s my thought: why not create a vehicle that runs on dead Southerners? This has the added bonus that, once we’re out of dead Southerners to run on, we could always make more. Hell, why stop at dead Southerners? Why not have it run on dead people in general? We could even throw in aborted fetuses. Look at that; I’ve just solved the problems of high gas prices, teen pregnancy, and overpopulation in one fell swoop. I should be getting paid for this.
| h01y 1337 0n3: | Hm. Maybe this is more a problem with blogrings than it is blogs… |
| h01y 1337 0n3: | I mean, really. It’s wholly insane to sign up for a blogring to meet people who go to the SAME SCHOOL AS YOU. |
| h01y 1337 0n3: | How about just going to class, you fools. |
Seriously, though; civilians shooting at aid-workers? Large groups of men raping women? Large-scale rioting? What the hell is the matter with you people? Nothing like this happened after the Tsunami, during the NY blackout or after 9/11 – whatever happened to American pride and isolationism, to “we can handle ourselves because we’re better than everyone else?” If these are the people that are starving to death, then I say, good riddance; I’m running low on aborted fetuses anyway.
[edit: Score.]
And remember, kids; vote for Kazi in the upcoming dorm elections :D.
Truck You, Gas Hole
Maturity comes at thirty-two-cents a mile
My parents bought a CB radio for my trip out to New York [Editor’s note: that’s where I’m going to college] for some reason and have had it on the entire way here (maybe they like to listen to the truckers’ pretty voices). Unsurprisingly, truckers have flamers just as bad (and just as many and annoying, if not moreso) as those on the Internet:
“Truckers are stupid!“
‘Shut up, fag, you’re a trucker too!‘
“You shut up, you’re the fag you stupid trucker!“
‘OMGWTF just shut up already Driver, I have a college degree!‘
“Oh ya, how many Calculus classes did you take?“
‘I took six semesters of Calculus in college, and four semesters of Biology, and four of Chemistry, and five of Physics.‘
“…“
‘Yeah, don’t have an answer for that, do ya, fag?!‘
At this point, I really would have liked to pipe in:
“Ladies, ladies, please! Let’s make this a good, clean fight: no biting, kicking, or scratching; and I don’t want to see any hitting below the belt!“
Unfortunately, my dad wouldn’t let me take the handset 🙁
…Thus confirming my theory that truckers have the mindset of a 12-year-old pre-pubescent girl.
