Beer for Brains

It’s true. When you don’t post for a while–Blogular Constipation–you get to the point where you can’t take it any more and just burst: a phenomenon we in the blogging business call: Blogular Diarrhea. When you haven’t posted anything in a long time, you start to feel all the things you’ve been intending to post (but maybe were too lazy to do) building up and creating pressure at your fingertips. Your hands jump at the keyboard in an uncontrollable fit and jam down each and every unsuspecting key.

Blogular Diarrhea comes out in chunks. It’s never whole, but more so, a whole lot that comes out at once. Some are harder than others, some messier. You will have solid bits and then you’ll have your weaker ones. Soft-serve versus stone-cold solid posts. Some are minuscule and unworthy on their own, but get together to make one colossal post.

I, my friends, have fallen victim to Blogular Diarrhea.

So here it goes: a bunch of individually meaningless stories, clumped together to provide a bowl-full of entertainment.

1. Almost another “Drug Bust”
• This particular night was hell. Someone had gone home for the weekend and decided to bring back 2.5 ounces of marijuana with them. It made my entire hall smell of weed. And believe me, 2.5 ounces is a lot. Now of course, some resident advisers come by, doing their regular rounds, and smell this stuff. Naturally, they go to the room of the guy who’d already been caught with weed. That’s where the smell is the strongest, anyway. He denies having any, and there wasn’t any in his room (they’d gotten rid of it). He denies it some more. The cops arrive. The cops refuse to search, but do write him up for the smell. He was pissed. Now there was one less way to prove his “innocence”. In the middle of this whole episode with the cops and all, another guy who had taken the weed to hide it, comes by into my room with a backpack, sticks it in my roommate’s closet and leaves. I later found out it had about half of the weed in it, pre-bagged, showing intent to sell. Oh that asshole, he’d just crossed the line, he was trying to get me in trouble instead of him. I got rid of it, giving it back to him, telling him I wasn’t afraid to tell the cops who really has the weed. That shut him up and got him to listen to me for a while.
2. The Long Drive Home
• I’ve noticed that the drive home seems shorter and shorter each time. Perhaps even shorter when it’s light out, even though traffic is heavier. When I have a passenger, even if he has nothing interesting to say and puts on crappy music, the ride goes faster. Plus, with a passenger, somehow, I don’t have to go pee quite as often–well, I never have to stop to pee when I have passengers, but when I’m alone, I have to stop at least twice. It’s weird. Okay, I’m weird.
3. Racquetball
• So I’ve started playing racquetball. My roommate showed me how. And, oh man, your arm gets sore. You squeeze the racket and whack at the ball all day long; your arm gets really sore. And plus, I suck at racquetball. I’ve always been afraid of getting hit by the ball, but as it turns out, it’s not that bad. The ball is hallow rubber, so when it hits the wall, it collapses and absorbs most of the shock. My fear of getting hit initiated before I learned any physics. But even my knowledge of physics did not stop me from being slammed into the wall (you still gotta watch where you’re going).
4. Fast Food Numbers: Revisited.
• I was at Taco Bell again, and now, these numbers are fucking random. My order number was 284, and then the next guy got 182. Then the next guy got something back up in the high 200’s again. And the out-liar was not a to-go order. Jeez. I think I’m going to have to talk to a manager or something one of these days and just either a) scream at them for their incompetence for numbering things correctly, or b) just ask what their system is. And if their answer to that is, “the computer decides”, I’m going to be pissed, and someone’s going to do a little bit of hacking.
5. Thanksgiving Break
• Ahh yes, what a memorable time. You get to go home after not seeing your family in a while and you get to hang out with friends. It’s quite fun, really. So on the Friday after the big “Turkey Day” (during which I had my dinner in paper plates, which was unusual for me), me, and three of my friends (two guys and one girl) hung out. We started pretty late (around 11:30 PM) and went until about 4 AM. We all met at my house and jumped in my car, which from the back seat, supposedly looks like a “race car” (because of the orange backlighting in dash, maybe?). Anyways, we cruise over to the Pacific Coast Highway (California Highway 1, which is on the coast of California, just in case you’re that ignorant), and headed over to a beach. This was around 12-12:30 AM now, and it’s kinda freaky walking around the beach that that time. We descended down many stairs, and I was last and the slowest (ever since I broke my ankle at the beach, I’ve been very careful). We make it down there and its dark, scary and thus, we must take advantage of these conditions. We climb onto these stairs and sit and talk. After that is over, we make our way down PCH to the “Harbor House Café”, which has not locked it’s doors since 1939. We eat some food and we’re out of there by 2:15-ish. We end up driving around all over the fucking place, for no reason. Just for fun. Just to hang out, talk and listen to music. We end up passing a 7-Eleven and I want to stop for a drink. I go in with one of the guys and the girl, the other guy stays in the back of the car, and falls asleep. Now, let me tell you, this is the first instance I’ve seen 7-Eleven (open 24 hours a day) lock it’s doors: the clerk had to go pee or something. We get in there, and all I want is a bottle of water. I get that. The guy who came in, picks up a FHM magazine, and asks the clerk, “Is this porn?” “No. Do you want porn? Here’s some.” He promptly pulls out a Playboy and a Hustler from under the counter. My friend quickly asks how much for the Hustler. “$10.95″ “Okay, I’ll take it.” At this point, I have to jump in, “Are you serious –? do you really want to buy this?” And I’m quite surprised there are no reactions or objections from the girl. So he buys it, and opens the shrink wrapping to find out that it comes with a free DVD (of Asian porn or something). The clerk now wants to see it too, because we’ve opened it. After thumbing through, he hands it back to my friend and we’re on our way. We sit in my car, the guy in the back is asleep, and decide to glance through the magazine for a minute right there in the parking lot. Eww. I knew we should have gone with the Playboy. It’s cheaper and it’s not this hardcore bullshit. We throw the magazine at the guy in the back, hoping he’d wake up and see it. Nope, sound asleep. My friend, oh so conveniently, has his laptop with him and puts the DVD in. We connect the audio to the auxiliary jack of my car. We turn it up, and sure enough the guy in the back wakes up, “what the fuck!?”. We drive around a bit, and let me take a second to mention that the girl seems rather intrigued by this porn. She also is concerned that we’re “all going to die” because I’m going to crash while glancing over at the computer screen. Well anyways, to wrap things up, we get home and that was that. Such an interesting night.

So that pretty much brings me back to today. That’s my bit of Blogular Diarrhea for you. I hope you enjoyed it.

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