I Have Returned

It's true. I, Optimus Prime, have returned to the realm of San Diego after having completed my first year of college.
That being said, I'd like to say that i've been drunk all but 2 days since my returning.
I have a feeling I'll have some good posts before this summer is over.

On Top of Everything

Andrew Jackson was a romantic. He was a lover AND a fighter. The love and devotion he felt for his country was only matched by that for his wife. If you had any reason to believe that I cared about what anyone else said, especially on the character of Andrew Jackson, let me say here that I don't, and that Andrew Jackson is the single greatest thing that has happened to this world. It is by his example that I have chosen to live the rest of my life.

To Rachel Jackson
From Andrew Jackson
Nashville January 8th. 1813

My love,

I have this evening since dark received, your affectionate letter by Dunwodie

He has carefully handed me your miniature—I shall wear it near my boosom, but this was useless, for without your miniature, my recollection, never fails me of your likeness.

It now one Oclock in the morning the candle nearly out, and I must to bed, May the angelic hosts that rewards & protects virtue and innocence, and preserves the good, be with you untill I return - is the sincere supplications of your affectionate Husband

Andrew Jackson

To Rachel Jackson
From Andrew Jackson
Head quarters Fort Strother
February 21rst 1814

My love, I have this moment recd. your letter of the 10th Instant, and am grieved to think the pain my absence occasions

I have a pleasing hope of seeing you before long -can I get up my supplies shortly I will soon put an end to the Creek war, as soon as this is done and I can honourably, retire, I shall, return to your arms on the wings of love & affection

Andrew Jackson

Rachel and Andrew Jackson: A Love Story

The Roommate Ordeal CONCLUSION

So I went to a hearing and basically aceattorney'd the shit out of those mother fuckers. They dropped all the charges but alcohol possession and harassment, and all I had to do was go to a drug-and-alcohol counselor for a one-time session and I'm not allowed back on my old floor for the rest of the year (i.e. until Thursday of this week).
Whatever I do, I'm definitely minoring in law.

GRAAAAGH!!!

Ahem.
I hope to do tomorrow what Mr. Optimus Prime did to A.P. lit last year to...
A.P. Music Theory! *dramatic lightning effects! Spooky!*

It's a mountain to conquer, but guess what?
I'm A MuthaFuckin' Music Theory Mountain Goat!

Wish me Luck, Guys!

~C, Baaah.

The Roommate Ordeal Pt. 4

Short addendum:
So I was reading through the incident report again later today and one line in TheRoommate's statement caught my eye. This is a direct quote, with names being the only thing changed.

I do believe [OptimusPrime] probably wouldn't cut me up into little pieces.

WHAT THE FUCK?
WHY THE CONDUCT HEARING, THEN?
JESUS FUCKING DILDO-SUCKING CHRIST!
This kid is such an ignorant tool, I'll almost regret wrecking his shit so hard on monday. But not really.

The Roommate Ordeal Pt. 3

The date of the hearing has been set at May 12th, 9:30 a.m. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that poltroon of an ex-roommate of mine picked the time because I have a terrible time waking up at any time before noon, but I know that they just picked the time most convenient for both of our schedules. Still... I'll probably be more irritable than usual, which may or may not work in my favor. I just wish I was prosecuting instead of defending, because irritability would be a nice advantage for a serious prosecuting force. Alas, I am not, though the best defense is a good offense, I hear.
That being said, I continue to be amazed by the situation. I have prepared several pages of witness statements, evidence, defenses and the luck for my cause, and today it was all made seem moot. I picked up a copy of the incident report today, and was reminded of the overwhelming daftness possessed by TheRoommate when he spelled "flesh" (as in human flesh) "flesch," A GRAND TOTAL OF THREE TIMES.
That's no typo. That's just ignorance.
Although, the first sign should've been in his alleged "vocab" studies (more on that later) when he used "excrescence" as a noun and fouled up subject-verb agreement ("selection of words is").
I won't call him dumb, but... Oh wait, yes I will!
These are mistakes typical of FOURTH graders! His butchering of the English language is grotesque on a level comparable to the poltroonry he displays in his daily actions. My intelligence is insulted by the infantile comprehension I was unwittingly holed up with and subject to. I can only hope that his cowardice and idiocy are not contagious, as would be a prime subject to fall victim to a bad case of the imbecility just now. However, with parents as his (that is a preacher and a kindergarten teacher), all signs point to it being an inherited trait, and I hope myself exempt from his miserable gene pool and immune from his total and undiminished inanity.

Fate, or just a roll of the dice?

So, I've gotten to wondering lately...
Pondering the questions that mankind dares to ask..
Of Death,
Of Life,
Of Happiness,
And then I got to fate...

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern make a series of arguements as to whether there is fate, or just simple probability. To the mind's eye, fate adds purpose. It adds a basic meaning that every human seeks to value themselves with. One could look upon life as being pointless, with no meaning, but to no avail. They have to derive some meaning to it...

So I wondered...
Does my bad luck represent something karma, cosmic, something bigger than reality yet smaller than infinity, something pushing, shoving, tearing at the very fabric of space time, to mold it like its own little bauble, or is it just a few unlucky coin tosses too many?
I mean, I know I'm screwy, but... To consistently get screwed over by even tiny situations within this realm, but, honestly...
No Prom Date. As it seems to be, she just started dating someone, who would be rather enraged should she go with someone else, so, as it seems, once more, I am luckless. To Roam or not to Roam then, becomes the question. I mean, It isn't the most important thing, but, what it represents is just...Annoying.

When will this streak end? and on what note? Is it supposed to?
Maybe i'm just fated to be Karma's little chew toy for the time being...

Whatever, with any luck, I can shake it.
Hope you guys get more Fate or Luck than I.
~C

Drunk History 3.5

It's official: I'm going to get a master's degree in Andrew Jackson.
(p.s. It's not actually official, dumbass)

Drunk History 3.5 featuring Optimus Prime

Alright. So the first time I think Andrew Jackson went to a duel and really wanted to kill a guy was this one time in like the 1800s with this guy named John Sevier. John Sevier is Governor of the state of Tennessee and Andrew Jackson is the first legislator elected from Tennessee (which he essentially single-handedly named after some Indians - whoever says Andrew Jackson was racist is stupid) but then later around the time of the duel is a justice on the Tennessee supreme court. But both men are vying for the position of chief general of the Tennessee militia. So Andrew Jackson is pretty young still, maybe like 20 or 30, but Sevier's a little older like 60, and so everyone's like "Oh man. That Sevier guy is pretty legit, he's fucking 60, and it's like 1810. That's unheard of. Mad props." But Andrew Jackson sees through the bullshit and is like, "Bitch, ten bucks says I'll live to be 80... Oh wait, all you suckers will be long dead by then, so suck it!"
But anyways, Sevier is still pretty powerful and respected, and so he starts dissing on Andrew, saying stuff about how he doesn't have any military experience and that it would be retarded to put him in charge of the militia for the whole state. Of course, Andrew Jackson won't stand for that, so he's like "Yo, cockgobbler, better have someone young an inexperienced than some old jaded dick that can't even get off his horse without breaking his hip."
And so it's totally on. They start writing letters back and forth like "Bitch you're a poltroon and you smell and stuff." and "Faggot says what? You fucking poltroon." and "Oh, real mature, you reek of poltroonry." and so on. And they kinda like work together, since Sevier is governor, and Andrew Jackson is a supreme court justice, so they are all passive aggressive and stuff to each other. And then one day all the drama and stuff coalesces in a public area in downtown where they're just going at it, slinging insults around. At the height of their fervor, they have worked their way to the outside of the courthouse, and gathered a pretty intense crowd, when Sevier, referring to Andrew's lesser knowledge of the region than his own says "The only time you went to Natchez, you left with another man's wife." Andrew did marry Rachel in Natchez under confused circumstances, and while all their close friends knew they made an honest mistake induced by Rachel's deceitful ex, Lewis Robards, it was still a topic of gossip among other people. But in any case, everyone knew better than to talk ill of Rachel in front of Andrew, because he would flip a shit on some bitches, and so they all waited for it.
The whole crowd was staring at Andrew Jackson, waiting for his reply.
After he picked his jaw up, he shouts at Sevier "Great God! You dare take her sacred name on your filthy lips?" And shit went down. Jackson, of course, asked for an "interview" - which was a euphemism for duel - and Sevier bitched out, claiming he was too old. But Jackson kept bugging him, and eventually Sevier gave in.
So they go to this farm area outside of Nashville. Both are on their horses and arrive about the same time. They're yelling at each other and stuff, and then Jackson pulls out his gun and starts waving it at Sevier. Sevier jumps down from his horse and tries to grab his gun, but scares the shit out of the horse, so it bolts. He's got a sword, but Jackson's still on his horse, shooting at him with his pistol. Sevier runs around for a bit, and Jackson chases him, but old timey pistols were hard to aim real well, especially on a moving horse, so he just misses a lot. Then Sevier starts swinging his sword around and hides behind a tree, where he starts yelling at Jackson and then gets his second to give him a pistol, so he starts firing blindly from behind the tree.
Eventually, someone got tired and left, so they didn't ever actually duel, but the whole thing was very Benny Hill-esque, and the two remained bitter enemies until Sevier's death in 1815.

Drunk History: Worth Watching... over, and over, and over...

Don't believe me?
Suck a cock :D
Drunk History Vol. 1 featuring Michael Cera:


Drunk History Vol. 2 featuring Jack Black:


Drunk History Vol. 2.5 featuring Jack Black:


And with that, I present to you...
DRUNK HISTORY VOL. 3 FEATURING OPTIMUS PRIME

Alright, so there's no video, and I wasn't actually drunk when I thought up the idea, nor now, while I'm writing it, but... still.
Fuck you.
Drunk History by ME.

Alright so Andrew Jackson is like 40 years old and he's the chief general of the Tennessee militia, and a judge on the Tennessee supreme court, and he has the best horse in Tennessee, and the most slaves, and he's pretty much an all-around bad-ass. And there's this guy, Charles Dickinson, who, as the name implies, is an all-around son of a dick. And this Dicky guy is young and trying to make a name for himself and he's being a prick, and says some shit about Andrew Jackson, and then Andy's like "You are a coward and a poltroon!" and Charles is like "You are a coward and a poltroon!"
And so eventually, Andrew has had enough, and he' like "Alright... you fucking... poltroon. Let's fucking fight this shit out. You probably dissed my wife, and you definitely dissed me and my bros, so I'm going to duel you, and I'm going to shoot you."
And it takes a while (because he's a puss) but Dickinson finally agrees, and is all like "Bitch, please. I got like 5 times as many bros as you, and I'm pretty much the greatest shot in all of Tennessee, so I'll shoot your old ass and you can suck a nut."
So they go to their arranged dueling place, and they're at 24 yards, right, and Dickinson is really a better shot, so he's real confident, and he draws faster, so he knows he can win.
So one of their guys is all like "Fire!"
And the thing is the Dickinson does shoot first. He shoots Andrew Jackson right in the heart, but the thing about THAT thing is that Jackson is wearing a baggy jacket, so he actually gets shot like an inch away from his heart, and the bullet explodes on his ribcage. And everyone's stunned as shit. Jackson stumbles, corrects his balance, and is staring right at Dickinson, whose jaw is totally floored, by the way. Jackson takes his sweet time to aim and then squeezes the trigger.
Nothing happened, because it was only half cocked, so he cocked it right and then kills Dickinson. He shot him in the heart, and he crumpled to the ground like a dead guy. It actually took him like a day and a half to die, but he still died before his wife got to see him, so it was still pretty hardcore. And Andrew Jackson is still like "If he had shot me in my brain or my heart, I still would've killed him."
Which is probably true. Bullets back then were pretty small and Andrew Jackson was a fiery raging inferno of brutality.
And that is the first time Andrew Jackson killed Charles Dickinson... a man.

Of all the crap..

For some reason, my mind is a bit off...
For all the crap I should be worrying about, grades and whatnot, My mind is still screaming
PRom!
Gahhh!

Ahh well, I'll get this well sorted out before then, hopefully...

Time Out from the Ordeal

I want to start a scremo or hardcore band.
Maybe even grindcore.

Actually it'll SOUND like one of those, but it will be called historycore, because all the lyrics to all songs will be about important historical events and/or people.

What I had in mind was a band called one of the following:
Old Hickory
King Andrew
The Hero[es] of New Orleans
Mischievious Andy
[The]Sharp Knife/Knives
The Caped Crusader[s]
or
Mobocracy.

If you hadn't guessed already, all our music would be inspired by the life and times of Andrew M.F. Jackson, 7th president of the United States.

Who's down?
I can scream and/or play bass, so we'd probably need a guitarist (or two), a drummer (for sure), and maybe a keyboard-er... i made that word up.



MOBOCRACY.

The Roommate Ordeal Pt. 2

I got kicked out of my room today.
After everything I'VE put up with all year and not complained about, my scoundrel of a roommate complains about one joke, and manages to get me kicked out of my room and forces ME to have a conduct hearing.
HE'S the one that's been calling me nothing but Squalorboy for the last quarter.
HE'S the one that's pissed on himself 4 times this year, and had the audacity to track his deplorable filth-covered self into our room half of those times.
HE'S the one that insults me, my family, my medical conditions, and my heritage on a daily basis.
HE'S the one that, for the sake of "learning new vocab words" writes poorly-structured sentences defaming me and my character.
And it's on that last note that I have chosen to set forth my task of revenge.
I TOOK those sticky-notes for evidence against him in the upcoming conduct hearing, and replaced them with a few choice ones of my own.
The first read:

(TheRoommate) is the yellowest craven, milksop of a recreant to ever have cursed the earth with his presence.

The second read:

TheRoommate is, in fact NOT - contrary to popular belief - a gentleman, for a true noble would address his inter-personal difficulties in a face-to-face, amicable manner, before seeking other means of mediation.

The final note read:

TheRoommate, however, is duplicitous and a recreant.
I HOPE YOU LIVE FOREVER.

And boy if I don't do everything within my power to keep this poor soul alive as long as possible. The Chinese have a saying "I hope you live in interesting times." It's supposed to be the greatest insult ever, for by "interesting," they are of course referring to times marked by conquerers, war, famine, and death. I will make TheRoommate's time on this planet - no matter how long or short - so interesting, he'll have wished I was actually a serial killer who would murder him in his sleep as a college freshman.

Optimus Prime's Roommate is a Dirty Coward.

He filed a report with Campus Police because I watched too much Dexter.

A few little comments about cutting him up into pieces, putting them in garbage bags filled with rocks, and then sinking 'em off my boat, and he goes crying to Public Safety.

What a bitch.

But in all seriousness, he was fully aware that I was referencing Dexter, whether or not he thought I was actually going to do these things (never mind the fact I don't have the tools to cut through bones, nearly enough garbage bags, a car OR a boat with which to even dispose of him properly). And for all the things he's done to me, I've never once said anything except to our R.A., and even still I didn't ask him to do anything about it.

So I had these fucking gadje shadogs all up in my shit, asking me questions, digging through my shit, taking my nearly kicked bottle of vo (my neologism for vodka) and all my fucking knives, razors, and blades.

I'm kinda pissed, not gonna lie. What little respect I had for him is officially lost. And here I thought I was rooming with a man, not a fucking pansy girly baby.

If it wasn't so illegal, or if I wasn't kinda under surveillance, I would challenge him to a duel RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

Optimus Prime is not above changing his appearance to get the ladiez.

So you've probably all heard (I'm assuming that most of my readers are still people that know me personally) that Chiodos and The Fall of Troy were playing in Crotchester 3 days apart from each other. So Chiodos was on Saturday, and Fall of Troy is on Tuesday (tomorrow).
And boy do I have some stories to tell.
It starts typically: about 30 minutes til doors and I don't have a ride.
After calling everyone I know who has a car twice, I finally bribe my friend to give me a ride, and he drops me off about 10 minutes after the first band starts playing.
So, in case you didn't know, Southern California is pretty much the most legit of most music scenes, hip-hop and rap excluded. What this means, is that I am inherently more "brutal" than the entire population of the state of New York, including these hXc kids who take themselves very seriously.
And being the utter humbler I am, I decide to go into the pit and THROW THE FUCK DOWN.
Like, in all honesty, I laid out everyone in there at least once. The best was at this relative lull in the moshing where some 250+ lb. mother fucker thinks he can get the edge in on my by charging his fat ass at me across the empty pit. What he failed to take into account is that little ol' 150 lb. Optimus Prime played tight-end in 10th grade, so I tuck my shoulder down right into his groin-ish area, and literally pick him up and carry him back across the pit into an unforgiving wall of onlookers. The rest of the night went about the same. I busted out some of my two-stepping, threw some shit, got some nice windmill action going - mule kicks weren't allowed though. The security guards weren't having it, so I didn't try it. Anyways, I basically wrecked shit out of all the screamo kids within a 100 mile radius of Rochester. I did, however, lose one lense to my glasses. In my defense, though, the lense was already broken, as was the frame, and the whole apparatus was held together with Krazy Glue, so it wasn't exactly structurally sound to begin with.
I wore my glasses in my pocket for the rest of my dancing during the show.

And in this, I made some friends. Don't ask me to remember their names, because I don't, but they seemed to think I was legit, because I sure as hell didn't go out of MY way to introduce myself after utterly destroying their faces.

I guess my reckless endangerment (or as I like to call it Wreck-ful Fun-danger-ment) didn't go unnoticed, though, because between the second and third bands, two security guards grabbed me. One stood behind me and pinned my arms against my side and started steering me towards the door, the other one walking beside me with a hand on my neck. They got me to just outside the door of the club, and the one behind me says to the one with his hand on my neck something to the effect of "You go out first, we don't need a fight right here." Neck-guy obliges.
I see a small group (3, maybe 4 people) standing there huddled around another person. Great, I figure. I accidentally murdered some dick with my hardcore, and I'm about to get kicked out.
Neck-guy "Is this the guy?" pointing at me, speaking to the group of concerned scenesters.
Scenesters "No."
Arm-guy lets go of me, and without any further explanation, I walk back into the club. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but to the best of my understanding, someone wearing either a headband or a blue shirt (the only two things about me that really stood out in particular in the dark club) must've started a fight with one of the Scenesters. Dodged a bullet there, if I do say so myself.

Mkay, so anyways, the show finishes, it's great, right? The Color Fred, Drop Dead Gorgeous, From First to Last, and Chiodos; all great bands. Well I had run into my roomate's ex-girlfriend's roommate, and she had agreed to give me a ride back to campus at some point during the show (since I hadn't arranged for one of those, either).
Well about 20 minutes pass, doors close, and there's maybe 6 people inside the venue, and no sign of the bitch. She ditched me.
That's when I start asking all the people near me if they were going back to the neighborhood near RIT. Not much luck, until a group of four girls exits the building, and sure enough, 2 of them live like walking distance from campus. I score a ride, and 2 of the girls (the two near RIT) are actually pretty cute, so it works out well in more ways than one.
The fat one driving, though, says that I have to chill for like 15 minutes, because I guess they were on a mission to sell themselves to Craig Owens, the singer for Chiodos.
Needless to say, they failed. I had to knock on two tour buses for them, just to find out that he had left right after the show. Not really surprising, but whatevs.
Anyways, we're riding back, find out one of the girls is taken, the two fat ones live in Buffalo (an hour away, phew!) but the last one is single, cute, and 17!
I get back to RIT, and score some digits. I'll definitely be seeing these ladies around Crotchester, and the two cuter of the 3 single girls addered me on MahSpace.

Yeah, it sounds really trendy and scene and poseurish, but what the fuck, I go with it, because these kids are legitimately cute.
And in keeping with the theme, I give myself a haircut tonight.
It looks like this:

Fuck what you say, I'm gonna be ROLLING in the poon when the chicks get a load of this shit.

Sup, Little Bitches?

THE OG OP is back nigz, and blackah then evah.

But not really.
Quite the opposite, really, because I got another A (was that racist? yeah prob, but chill the cock out, I really am half nigra). This one was for political leadership.
When I'm feeling real bored-like, I'll up that and the Federalism paper too.
Check back in maybe 20 minutes for a new post, like with stories and shit.

Keep Up...

I'm so out of the habit of writing...
I must force myself to at least write in this or, for certain, I shall lose entirely...
That is a part of myself I am oh so unwilling to give up, and yet i'm doing a damn good job of it...
Yet, there is hope. A new laptop, and possibilities of privacy to divvy amongst the circuitry a bevvy of bristling secrets, ones to forge anew the broken pen, sharpen the scattered and rusted verbiage, and bring forth that which lies so scarcely within...
I can only hope that it works...

Oh My Great Golly Goodness.

Whats going on everybody?

Have I ever told any of you how I've had a fatty crush on my neighbor since I was eight years old?

Well I do.

And I have.

Why is this coming up now? Why haven't I said anything before? How does this pertain to me personally?

The answers to these questions and other bits of big news to come soon.

Sorry about the lack of posts lately. Like the other OPiD authors I too have been busy with school and other responsibilities.

So believe it or not...

I've actually been doing school work.
I know, I know.
It's crazy, y'all.
So, as a treat, I'll make a legit post later.

And by "legit post" I really mean "transcription of my A essay from my Local and State Politics test."

LOOK FORWARD TO LEARNING ABOUT FEDERALISM!

Earthday Birthday

Is it somewhat ironic that I've been doing 9 hours of Envi Sci homework on my semi-birthday eve?

Oh well...

Happy Birthday to me I guess, big 18.
~C

Number Two for a Number One

Well, romantics aside now...
It's been pretty uppity. Band's been a real pain, and Lazer's probably been feeling the heat as well from all of our college stuff...
But it's good to get some of this experience in. It'll help us later when we're stressing over far more important things on a much smaller time scale...

Honestly though, There's very little relaxation ever...

Maybe during summer...

And I'd find a girl....

Yeah, that'd be nice.

But like hell if that's gonna happen.

Laters~

I been Lazy....But that's a Lie...

Ahhh, It's been too long...
Much too long. And I have a lot to say as well...
To lovers lost and lovers longing, may you find some peace.
Oh, and also, I really don't like Toni Morrison. Not a good writer...

Now then...Life's been kind of interesting lately...Colleges have been shouting stuff blindy and people left and right, saying yes to some, no to others. But I'm glad I got into my UCSC, 'cause hopefully it will give me a change I may be needing. Been crazy busy though.
It doesn't feel like busy anymore though. It just feels like usual...which is scary. As active as I am, I'd rather not keep this as the norm. It's just too much...you light a fire too big, and your fuel's gonna be gone in a bright blaze... I don't want that. Haven't experienced enough to want something like that to happen already...

Yet the days grow long and listless sometimes....I've sat up nearly a consectutive week now until the early morn, 1 and 2AM, waiting for my mind to stop yapping. Sometimes It is happy, sometimes it is sad, but it's always chattering...
Advice from a friend was to take some cold medicine, stop the chatter, and live with mind in peace. But I don't want that either...

Curse my romantic heart, but if I have a thought, I want it to flow through my, whether I spark fire or gleam ice, whether I am strung up in vast mortal coils or suspended elegantly within a vast empty light. I won't stuff that thought, not ever, regardless. I can't do that...I can't stifle something like that, because it is all I have...If you put a plug in your soul, it might not try to spew so often as it does...

Just like the heart...The heart doesn't like being contained...Heartache may hurt, but it is better to let it loose than to bottle it, creating some cruel and unusual self-detonating atomic weapon...I learned that most recently...

So, I say, in a vacuous gratuity of lethargy: Let your heart free, you soul to ferment and make merry wine...you'll be thankful for it later...

~L

New comic

Be sure to check it, before you wreck it.

"Gay Marriage" on Two 'Y' Chromosomes

Oh boy, what a day.

forgot i didn't have political parties and voting today, so i skated down to building 1, just to tun around and skate back to Colby F. All was not for naught, though, because i realized how spring-y it was. People were lying on the grass in front of Gleason, at least 3 different groups of people were playing frisbee, and there were a bunch of skaters, bikers, and rollerbladers. So in the spirit of the season, I dumped my shit at my room and head back out to carve some of the better hills I've found around campus. And it was awesome. I skated for about an hour and 15 minutes, and I was pretty much winded. I know longboarding doesn't seem like it should take a lot of energy, but it does. The best part is carving down hills, and that will tire one's legs out real quick. Not to mention, you have to skate uphill before you skate downhill. So anyways, I'm done, and I'm skating back to dorm side. For whatever reason, I decide to go the way that leads me past my favorite hill on campus (the first good one I found) and i can't help but to skate down it. I'm carving and all seems well, until I make a sharp toe-side curve and something happens. Something BAD happens.
I don't know if my wheel slid, got caught on a pebble, or both, but the result is tragic. I fly through the air, and basically end up horizontal in the air. I just barely manage to throw my left hand and right elbow backwards (I have scratches to prove it), but not quite soon enough. My head slams on the ground. My glasses pop off and the delinquent lense (i'm sure you all know the one) flies out. Needless to say, i'm a little stunned. But not too bad. I stand up, put together my glasses and put them back on my face, and grab my board. I walked back up the hill, and then skate back down it because, i mean, come on, it's one of the most fun hills on campus. Granted, i take it more slowly this time, and just cruise past the SLC. I do a quick self-administered concussion test and pass. No loss of memory, no dizziness, i didn't black out. I have a massive headache, and my necks a little sore, but that's cool. Normal.
And then it strikes me to feel for the inherent bump on my scalp. Pretty grapefruit sized. And then i notice that my fingers are sticky. Closer inspection proves that they are covered in blood. I skated to the Health Center straight from there.
I see a doctor fairly quickly, and turns out i need stitches. For future reference, RIT's health center cannot do stitches. Its around this point i notice the blood dripping down the back of my neck. Sweet.
Another 30 minutes or so to find out that the afterhours center and all the local hospitals are full. Like... to the brim. So after another 30 minutes or so of trying to find a ride to the walk-in center, I end up having to call a taxi. Whoopie.
20 minutes later and the taxi comes and drops me off. There's $15 i wont be getting back. I proceed to check in and that takes a good 30 minutes (computer problems). During this time a fat black chick comes and just basically is annoying.
Girl: Excuse me, how much longer are you going to be?
Receptionist: Just a few minutes, I have to finish checking him [that's me] in.
Girl: My pinky's bleeding through my shirt!
That's right. She was getting bitchy over her pinky, and she's so ghetto, she's wrapped it in a shirt. Not gauze, paper towels, napkins, tissues, or even a towel. Just a shirt. So the receptionist obliges her wraps it up in some gauze. Crisis averted.
I'm immediately seen after check-in (one of the few benefits of head injuries) and get cleaned up. I need staples. I get staples. I get seven staples. And a tetanus shot. I was overdue. By several years.
The best/worst part is that I was next to the pinky girl, seperated by a curtain. Boy, was she a bitch. She was complaining about how the novacaine didn't numb her pink 100% before she got the stitches, and the doctor (whom I appreciate for hating her as much as I did) had to explain that that's impossible, especially in the fingers, which have high concentrations of nerve-endings. Meanwhile, I'm getting SEVEN staples in my head, and the novacaine wears off after about FIVE staples, and I don't make a peep. Whoever thinks women have a higher tolerance for pain than men is just plain stupid, or something. So stupid.
My stupid roommate john has to pick me up and it's now 9:30. 4 hours of the first day of true spring wasted, and all because of a stupid rock.

Drained.

Seriously, School can be vampiric...
Overbooked, Overclocked, Overworked...
I know I haven't been writing here consistently, but with a near constant 14 hour a day work schedule, it's about all I can do...

Next week for sure...maybe something over the weekend if I'm feeling romantic and glitzy...
See you guys..
~C

April Fools

We're still trucking.


For now.


Check out TYC, though.
New update tomorrow-ish!

Pack it Up

Alright.

It's obvious to me that noone reads this shit, and after lots of thinking and discussion, Lazer and i have decided to nip this shit in the bud.

Sorry, guys.
Farewell, Adios, Bonsoir, all that good stuff.

See you on the Other side,
-Optimus Prime

And pretend that there is some fanfare here:

Voila! I present you with the first of (hopefully many) TYC comics!
The material is a little dated, but I don't fucking care!

OH yeah... link to the comic:
http://tyc.smackjeeves.com/

And one more special for you OPID readers; the character concept sketches. I'm debating whether or not to make a Characters page for the actual TYC site, so for now this is an OPID exclusive:

Pretend like this is a teaser Trailer...

Here's a panel from one of the upcoming TYC strips.

For the uninformed, Lazer is on the left, and I am on the right, reading.

So Tired...

Sleepy.
Suck it up, You'll get one next week...
For now, send some nice chesty chick or something to warm my sheets whilst I idle away the hours in dreamland.
Oh, and totally able to write in near unconsciousness...

Later

~C

Andrew Jackson

Andrew Jackson was the best president the United States has ever had or will ever have.
He is a badass.

These are my evidences:
- He is on the $20 bill. I argue that this is the best bill because it is of the largest value of all moderately-well circulated bills, and has the most usability in every-day settings. Sure, throwin' down a Franklin is pretty awesome, but like... how many times can you do it in a regular day without being a dick? And for that matter, who short of Ludacris will really carry more than one or 2 100-dollar bills. Twenties, on the other hand... noone thinks you're pompous if you toss down a 20 for some McDonald's, or a Starbucks, and you can carry around 20 or so without really feeling like a dick.

- He has a striking similarity to Hugh Grant, one of my favorite actors. Disagree?
You're wrong. They DO look very similar, and Hugh Grant IS an awesome dude. So suck it.


- He was the one and only military governor of Florida. Yeah. Military. Right in the title.

- He was the 7th president. 7 is an awesome number. Disagree? You're wrong. Go play some craps, you dick. Plus, seven is prime (like Optimus), and like... heptagons and shit have all cool properties and shit. So suck it!

- He was taken as a prisoner of war during the American Revolution - aged just thirteen! Not only did he almost starve to death, but he was so badass, he refused to clean the boots of a redcoat who cut him with a sword. I beg you to ask yourself what YOU were doing at 13.
Masturbating, probably. Twat.

- Direct quote from Wikipedia (more reliable than most dicks give credit):

Jackson's service in the War of 1812 against the United Kingdom was conspicuous for bravery and success

Conspicuous... for BRAVERY and SUCCESS. That's the best kind of conspicuosness, if you ask me.

- I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure he was the only president to have 2 vice presidents. Not because he picked a pussy who died, but because John C. Calhoun is a bitch who ran away to South Carolina for some bullshit states' rights stuff. AND Jackson's so badass, he had NO vice president for a whole fucking year. You might bitch, "Wahhh, that's undemocratic tyranny, blah, my vagina hurts!" but it's the opposite. He was so against tyranny that he was glad to be rid of all the middlemen so he could protect democracy with a fervor that was unmatchable by any other federal politicians.

- Reduced the debt to the lowest it had been since 1791.

-Repeatedly tried to disband the electoral college.

- He was the first president handed a baby to kiss.

- When Calhoun started being a bitch and supporting the South Carolina pussies that wanted to secede not pay tariffs that they were supposed to, Jackson called him out.

Jackson rose first, glared at Calhoun, and in a booming voice shouted "Our federal Union: IT MUST BE PRESERVED!"

It is said that Calhoun replied with something less impressive, and his voice was noticeably trembling.
Also, Jackson followed Calhoun to S.C. because he said he was going to "personally hang the first man to disobey the tariff." So. Fucking. Badass.

- He was the first president with any attempt at bodily harm made. Some navy guy he laid off came and smacked him at some thing and then ran off. Jackson didn't even press charges. AND THEN, some other dick comes up to 60-year-old Jackson with TWO pistols, intending to kill him, and they BOTH misfire. The bullets were literally SO afraid of him, they wouldn't even come out of the gun. So Andrew (we're on a first name basis) beats the guy nearly to death with his cane. His aides had to restrain him. Davy Crockett was there.

- He fought 13 duels in his life (another awesome number), most for his wife's honor. He killed a dude in one of the duels. Yeah... Since Andrew knew this other prick was a faster draw, he let the guy shoot first. Fucker shoots Andrew right in the chest, but he doesn't even flinch. No, he just takes a good, long time to aim his pistol at the guys face and drops him. Dead. But I think that one was over a horse race, but also a little bit about his wife, too. Oh also, he live like 40 years with that bullet in his chest.




- He had 2 kids, but acted as a guardian for 10. And his wife was totally dead at the time.

So... yeah.

Andrew Jackson.
Best President ever.

It's coming...

FINALLY.
IT IS coming....
That's right, TYC, the long-awaited, OPID-affiliated (tehe... rhymes) web-comic. I've finally bucked down and convinced Lazer that it's time, even without my computer.
And there's going to be so much excellence. Seriously.
Like, the character designs are all entirely changed (for the better, if you ask me) but that's not even the HALF of it.

Be on the look out.

How Did This Fucking Happen?!...

I now have limited interwebs access through no fault of my own (thats a lie by the way but let me just go on the record and say that I REGRET NOTHING) so my posting shall become even less frequent then it recently has been. Also, I have a girlfriend now. She drinks more then I do and more often then Danior does. We officially met when I fucking blew major chunks on her at her birthday bash.

Oh yeah, shes a keeper.

These events and more to be elaborated on at a later date.

Sincerly,
Mine and Your Favorite,

Mander Romany<3

Decisions, decisions.

Aite well,

I'm feeling a bit too lazy to post a long meaningful post this week,

so I'll leave our loyal readers this question to ponder over...






If you could only be God's worst enemy...or nothing.


Which would you choose?



-The King

I will be your best friend.

I'm sure I've made it at least partially clear in the past that I have a "thing" for Lindsay Lohan.
Well, thanks to the media, it has also come to my attention that she has a sex-tape out now.


GET ME A COPY. ON DVD. A.S.A.P.

Seriously, the only computer access I have is in the lab, and I was paranoid enough looking at the screen captures without actually watching video footage of her going at it.

OH, if it makes you feel any better, I ONLY want the video to determine if it is or is not actually Lindsay Lohan. It's like science.

So do it.

Drunk is Relative.

No, I'm not Drunk.

Nor shall I be anytime soon. But hey, let's face it; everyone gets a little hammered now and then. You see, life is choice. Choice is life. There's little fate to go aroudn but the choices that you make around it. You may look back retrospecticely and say "Hey, wasn't that a hokey coincidence?"
It was chance.

But the point being herein though:
You are driven to choice, whether the decision is by yourself, or by someone else. One can be outwardly driven (I.E. influenceable), or Inwardly driven (I.E. Influencing), and each of these types determine how one may acted when faced with a decision.
I've taken a long, damned hard look at myself (for reasons of which I shant divulge. Only a few people may know one, and one of them is damnably me.), and have determined, that I am both. I can be so stubborn and so passionate about something that, forces, be they bullets or torrential rainstorms, I'm invulnerable to the world about me. And yet, someone's words can so influence my decisions that I could crumple right there, 2 feet from my goal and cry out.

Is it the poeple themselves who do that? Are they just a modified howitzer version of the regular influencers? Or is it an immortal weakpoint within? To feel? To appreciate? To give oneself for?

We have no weaknesses. We only make them ourselves....
For some reason, I choose to have that one. A weakness of heart.

Chance, Fate...What is it all but ways of delving into forever? It's something we rarely understand...the vastness of everything...

But I guess, if you hold on to someone...if you find those who so move your stubborn ox-hided asses into gear, make you want to change, want to improve....
Well, you better fuckin' hold on tight. They're worth it.

~L
Coming from a different time. (For a friend.)

Fuck this town.

Rochester: I've said it before, and I'll say it again - you are a dick.
One big dick.

Did I already use the Cockchester line on this site? I can't remember.

Biggest waste of my life ever.

A Most Excellent Adventure

This is something I wrote a few months back about Lazer and I and felt it was a pretty decent piece of writing. Enjoy.

We were lost, we were late, we were about sixty miles from where we said we were going to be, and we were finally alone. The night had been perfect up until just recently. The two of us stood looking at each other with stars in our eyes. Smiling like fools on the inside and trying to act as cool as the night had been on the outside, we began to discuss how lucky we thought we were. We were at the beginning of our end.

To our right, looking like a teary eyed bloodhound begging for food, our poor little soccer mom car had finally been beaten. Sitting dolefully with its hood up, vulnerable and waiting for that exquisite moment of triumphant glory when our friends would get back with the jumper cables. The car seemed to finally have dozed off as we stepped away from its fading interior light. In front of us, seemingly slouched against the front of our car, was what seemed like a mountain of ice-plant, rocks, and dirt. At the top of this mountain was the profile of what we thought was a creepy and slightly sinister seeming old lady. Unmoving and rather terrifying in its inert state, the old lady seemed to stare directly down at our car as though the engine had said something offensive and she was going to do something about it.

Behind us, contrary to the chilling old lady and the daunting shadows of the mountainous hill were the smooth pebbly shores of the beach. Us coming to this beach was the denotation of our trip. We came up to this far off shore to visit some very special friends and to got to the beach and relax and have a good time though none of us were really dressed for the occasion. Our little hebdomad had just ambled and frolicked our way up the slippery shore back to the parking lot not three hours ago. The fact that we did this like we were kids again delighted us and made us giddy with delight.

Although, from our lonely position you could see maybe six or seven bonfires burning incandescently on into the night, the darkness seemed to close in on use push what little time we had left away until we had to be back at our respective homes. Every once in a while you would see or hear kids coming and going to and from bonfires making the dark anxious trek from one blazing flame to the next. The harsh pollution given off by the soft yellow light posts and brilliantly burning bonfires seemed to focus solely on us. Standing there, ridiculous with our heads held high leaning against the car like everything was just fantastic. To our left, an eternity away it seemed, was the slight, biting incline of the open road.

This seemingly ordinary parking lot is too most, exactly that, an ordinary parking lot. A place where events begin and events end. To us this parking lot was the event. The fact that our car’s battery had died in this totally random parking lot 60 miles from anything and everything that is familiar to us was the epitome of adventure. It had packed that void which is and can only be filled once in a man’s life. That void, which can only be filled by that first epic adventure.

Mander<3 class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; line-height: 200%;">

My (in)Sincerest Apologies

Fuck you guys for not reminding me to post.

Naw, I'm just pulling your wieners. I was planning on posting Thursday but didnt get home till about 11:30 and yeah basically I've been pretty busy lately and as of late, probably having more fun then I should be.

The other night, this past Friday I believe, Me and some of the peoples that I've been chillin' with lately went out to the college area and got a hotel room. This room was your average two bedroom room at any other Days Inn. What made this room so special? There was half a bottle of ol' Jimmy Bean (shit goes down hard when your sober, definitely not my favorite...) and only about six or seven of us present for the first several hours.

We had a shirtless party which basically involved two of the girls(there were three) walking around, well... shirtless.

Needless to say it was a pretty decent night.

The next day I went with my buddy Hookups (who happens to be this cute little gay chick) to her crushes rugby game. Holy Motherloving Jesus. These bitches where enormous. You've all seen a bull right? Yeah, fucking imagine if a heard of them decided to get up and play a game of rugby. The only decent looking one was indeed the one me and my buddy came to check out. Needless to say shots were needed. Then after that we left and went to the cliffs for a bit and just chilled.

Fucking Sunday,

Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Nuff' said.

Mander Romany<3

P.S.

Slowly but surely I'm pretty sure that I'm going to become an alcoholic like my father and probably Optimus too. Maybe I'll slow down and take it easy for a bit. You know, stick to beer or something. That other shits really getting to me. At least I recognize it though and I'm not doing it every day or even like every week usually. Right?

ehh... fuck it.

I'm going to go play Smash Bros. Have fun kiddies.

Change in Codiing?

Aite so,
First off I'd like to apologize for the no show post last week,
it was a pretty crazy weekend...

Details may be presented at a latter date, but for now:


Apparently Ash and Chiodo have been bitching about having gay codenames and have requested changes.


This isn't exactly classified as a blog, but rather an open discussion to the authors.


Shall we comply?

Whaaaa???

So this is a shitty post - be forewarned.
I've been in the Big Apple (shittiest nickname for the best place ever) for the last week, and while it's been great and full of lots of blog-worthy shit, the one thing lacking is the reliability of RIT labs. So, here it all is on the eve of my 8-hour-long train-ride back to Rochester - or as I have not-so-lovingly dubbed it: Cockchester (aren't I witty?)
Anyways, it's a bit of a hodgepodge of stuff that's been on my mind for the length of the week, and I'll do my best to get it out in an orderly and timely fashion... Alright, it's obviously too late for the latter, but you get the idea. Anyways:
1) FUCK Rochester and RIT. I never remember how shitty that brick-laden hell-hole is until I go somewhere better - namely anywhere with people I know and/or temperatures that average out to at least above 0 degrees at any given point.
That being said, I am going to turn over a new leaf and do something about it, instead of pursuing the traditional OP-method of whining and bitching like a bitch. Yeah, I'm going to to apply to transfer to NYU, USC, wherever Mander's going, and probably any other schools in NYC that aren't Monroe College or CUNY. (And about here is where you guys start a pool for how far into the application/transfer process I actually make it, because I am still a fucking lazy-ass slacker.)
2) I'm going to get me some new meds. I'm pretty sure my roommate "accidentally" tossed my old ones, but it might've been for the best, because they weren't so hot (and they didn't mix with the sauce too well). Also, I've self-diagnosed myself with anxiety, on top of my depression, so I'm hoping to get some Xanax or whatever the generic alternative is.
3) you may have heard my plans of drinking 3 ounces of vodka mixed in with my morning Hawaiian punch, but plans have changed. Instead, as soon as I get my tax return ($60 woohoo!) I will be buying (read: having my 21-year-old-friend "Rage" buy) as much Sparks as funds will allow. For those of you less-enlightened, Sparks is a malt-liqur energy drink that turns your tongue orange.
4)I saw John Krasinski and Rachel Dratch. Upright Citizens Brigade. Google it. Best night ever.
5) And last but not least, I'll close with a joke:
Q: Why did Optimus Prime cry when he heard about Hiroshima and Nagasaki?
A: Because he was devastated by the deaths of so many JAPS.

J.A.P. = Jewish-American Princess.
I'm not sure what it is, but something is wholly fascinating about this wondrous species of woman and I find them irresistible. I even find myself ignoring annoying and generally bitchy qualities in a particular fine specimen of Jap. It's weird, and I thought you all should know because I will probably end up marrying one.

And we'll share Xanax on our wedding night.

Autobots roll out.

Late post because of a late post.

Well, I had fully intended to not usurp the power of the pen and take the thunder away from my good friend Lazer, but, Nuff's 'Nuff. I'm posting, even if the magical, royally ordained "Order" is disrupted.



Now then...It kind of seems to me that I go perpendicular to whatever my colleagues agree to, but, yet again, I have a counter-point to all of our drivel (Mine included.)

Men like sex. It's a fair given, anyone who's watched cheerleaders at a football game, seen a swimsuit competition, or, blasphemy that it may be (Har Har), looked at porn, you can tell that sex is a heavy industry to compete with in itself. Stronger than steel, oil, electricity put together nearly, Sex is practically a bigger motivator in society than religion.



Yet what I question is Why it plays such a huge role... Sure, it's a physiological reaction to feel sex appeal, sexual tension, to become aroused, get horny, however you may put it, but, for the most part, this reaction is Mental. I believe that anything mental can be regulated by willpower, and, while this can be simply stopping yourself from popping a boner in a crowd of hot chicks, it can go as far as celibacy (Although, full societal celibacy is just...stupid. Wouldn't recommend it.)

Men lie slaven to desire today, torn apart by their blatent needs and wants in a quest that, in the overall, adds only slightly to our complete happiness and social well-being. A one night stand can be a great relaxer, but after a while, they'll become fewer and farther between, and that guy/girl is gonna get lonely.



And that's where we come up with our second large institution in the states: Love. Love is one of the most marketed and labeled ideas perhaps in the history of mankind. Yet...Society as I know it has slurred that word so damned much now that we can barely pick out what it truely means anymore. Ask a teenage girl why she loves her boyfriend, and she'll likely say "Because he's hot," or, "Because he can talk to me." Now, first and foremost, the first one is obviously not Love. In that case, Love is being confused with another L word which most people don't understand, Lust.

Lust is physical desire, basically, the reason for rampant college fornication, drunken orgies, and facetious relationships. Lust isn't something to build love upon, yet, it can come With love.



You may ask, where the hell is he going with this? Well...
I'm sick of all these yuppies calling out, booze-infested, into the night at the girl they've just fucked, "I love you." Such a cry is Lust, not Love, and should never, EVER be confused otherwise. And, as our society has conditioned our girl's delicate (or otherwise) little hearts to flutter and butterflies to explode out their crotches, I see more and more bad relationships, drunken pregnancies, and just generally stupid decisions being made over those three rampantly misused letters...

So then, the next time you roll off of some nameless chick in the night, unless you really REALLY do, just say, "That was a nice screw," or something of the like.

Leave the loving to us Lovers.

~C

Fortuna's Wheel

I'm going to cut right to the chase here tonight because I'm not feeling too hot.

Essentially, my bosses'(BigPimpin) daughter (Jetsetter) wants my dick.

My only concern is that it just had to be this girl who wants to jump my fuckin' bones man. Thinking about Jetsetter just kinda makes me a little twitchy.
While she is decently attractive and a fun flirt with a nice body,
shes just a little to on the reserved side for me.

I met her for the first time this past Tuesday.
We hit it off pretty alright as per my usual charm but as I began to chat it up with her
it begins to dawn on me...

but "No,

no i refuse to believe it..."

"With a sister like hers how could she NOT be a fucking outrageously sick person?"

( the last time I saw her sister, she was of her and two of her friends next to an especially gigantor fucking tree which they had covered completely in beer bottles they had all drunken the night, if thats any indication of an undoubtedly correct impression of her sister).

Then as the subject of my bosses' (her mothers') love life slowly comes into action as it always seems to do, what me and the rest of the office found hilarious Jetsetter found slightly uncomfortable and not that funny.

I can understand that its her mom and all but at least have the good grace not to kill the party for the rest of u ya know?

Then later we were texting and she asked me my favorite thing to do was.

Me, already bored and realizing that the conversation wasn't going anywhere
I made the executive decision to reply jokingly "touching myself." both to entertain myself and to see how she would react.

Most average human beings would think that this was a joke(we've know each other long enough by this time to to tell if I'm being serious or not. For some people it take a little while.) would have either replied with either 1) witty rejoinder or 2) tell me how lame/dumb/retarded/immature that sounded. She on the other hand, slit her own throat and went with 3) "something came up i cant chill tomorrow."
If this had been jokingly off-handed i wouldn't have minded let me reassure you that in fact it definitely was not.

In fact I was pretty taken aback by the slight,
that i had to reaffirm what i had just witnessed is a testament to that.

"Uhhh... that was a joke." i replied.

"Good. Cause if it wasn't something REALLY would have come up."

Suddenly stunned and increasingly uninterested, time began to creep slower and slower as it does when ones mind begins to turn inward unto its self for the sanctuary that surely yourself can only give and it was then that i started to wonder,

...Why the fuck am i even trying?...

I began to become more aware of my surroundings once more.
Every time i have ever, or even at least gotten close to, getting any action, it was always when i least expected it,
always when i never wanted it,
never thinking about it.
always on the downward stroke of Fortuna's Wheel
but then it always did happen
picking me back up and spinning me upwards once again towards the heavens back into my rightful state of mind.

Life was coming back into focus.

Then in the span of two hours
my phone was touched by the hand of [InsertHigherPowerHere] and ten semi to completely nude pictures of various womens flickered across my cell phone screen that suddenly felt muchj much too small.

Time lurched forward

"Where do I find these girls? Jesus Motherloving Christ..."

I mused as time now began to accelerate, trying to catch up with the beating of my heart.

"How the fuck did I pull this off?"

My point?
I have a date (oh... Is that what we're calling it now?)
Friday at five o'clock.
We have the house to ourselves for two hours.
Unless something absolutely ridiculous comes along
(which usually always seems to happen due to my infamously terrible, terrible luck)
I will, surreptitiously and with rhythmically increasing velocity,
be giving out the hot dickings.

Edit:
I'm pretty sure that i was terribly terribly wrong about Jetsetter, but ehh first empressions... hahaha.

The Environment. Err, Yeah, That Place...

Alright, no tome of insight tonight, just a bit of fed-uppish-ness.
For the past half a year, I've been stuck in the most mundane, boring, and poorly taught class of my entire high school career. I thought summer school was bad, but this class takes the cake, puts a stripper inside it, tops it, and waits until she is dead and molded.
Environmental science....
Dense topic, you might imagine...
All about, methods to save our planet, scientific research, and applicable science?
Uhh, Not here. The class is a joke. Pure facts, memorization, and common fuckin' sense.
"Uhh, too much nitrogen in soil...What do we do?"
Stop putting nitrogen in the soil? Just maybe? Not litigate over it for 6 months before building a fucking nuclear power plant over the corroded dying landscape...
If we didn't have to deal with so much bullshit from bureauocratic big business and corporations paying off government employees, maybe we could possibly, I don't know,
Effect A Fuckin' Change?
Individual effort is one thing, but amassed effort is better...

But, I digress. The class just makes us spew forth facts like godzilla ate one of Lazer's infamous poyo burritos. (No offense, I just think the big green guy wouldn't care for chicken.)
It's useless, I hate it...but, the grading scale is ridiculously curved...
Passed 45% C last semester while doing No Work Whatsoever. Just nailed the tests...

Whatever, stupid classes piss me off...

~C

Oh, shit!

I apologize for the late post, I had to let this event simmer in my head before I was able to fully retell the tale.

Bluntly: I saw a motorcyclist ride into the side of a car at 50 miles per hour.

I'll let that little piece of imagery linger with you for a while before I cock slap you with this:

It was downhill.

And we (Chiodo, Ash, and The King) got a perfect view of the women's faces inside the car. It was a combinaiton of fear and "Can I suck your dick?"

I have a theory that all women's emotions are a combination of pretentiousness, whoreishness, and fear.

Anyways, this little crash up happened to occur on Chiodo's birthday, confirming to him that the spirit of death lingers about him and that he'll die within two years.

I never said he was an optimistic son of a gun.

Prime Beats Women; Metaphors Ensue...

This is an edited-to-be-readable-by-intelligent-human-beings transcript of an instan messenger conversation I had with Lazer. It's atypical in that I actually offer some good advice in there, if you just know where to look. so without further adieu:

Optimus Prime: It's no secret that Mander's tastes are...
Not quite so discerning as yours or mine.
Lazer: [I concur.]
Optimus Prime: I actually think Mander is more attracted to slutty burn-outs than anyone I've ever met.
Like he's drawn to them.
Like a moth to flame.
Lazer: Or Mander to a slutty burn-out.
Optimus Prime: I'm sure i've only heard about a fraction of his forays this year, and I'm already disgusted.
Like...
I hope he wears a condom.
Even when he's just hanging out with them.
Not even putting his dick in them.
Lazer: Hahah.
[Yes,] he's gotten a bit extreme.
Optimus Prime: So I've heard
Lazer: You've probly heard more than me, ha.
Optimus Prime: He always texts me like "I'm going to Tijuana with so and so."
And I'm like "Dude don't." I forbid you. I don't know if he heeds my advice, though. One can only hope.
Lazer: Haha good look out for him.
Optimus Prime: I do. And what's worse is that in my FYE (a.k.a. GAY) class we were talking about relationships on the 13th, i.e. day before Valentine's Day
Lazer: FYE?
Optimus Prime: First Year Enrichment
Lazer: Oh, GAY. Ya I know now.
Optimus Prime: Anyways. And since it's me and one other dude in the class - but he never talks - it was basically me arguing with alllllllll the girls. First like about hooking up. THEY think that it's always bad.
I said something along the lines of "Bitches ain't shit."
Optimus: 1 Bitches: 0
Lazer: Hahaha
Optimus Prime: Actually I was just like "I think it's possible to bone someone without getting emotionally attached," but they all disagree because they're stupid.
Lazer: Let's go by you football and them regular points
Optimus Prime: Okay cool.
Optimus: 6 Bitches: 0
And I was like "As long as you don't mislead a broad like 'Oh we're totally a couple now, but let's have sex tonight' and then not call her it's really not a problem." That was the XP.
Optimus: 7
Lazer: Haha, nice
Optimus Prime: And one cheeky broad was like "So you think it's okay to plow a girl and just leave the next morning and be like 'alright.... bye' and leave and not ever talk to her again?"
SO what she's trying to do is run it back for a TD. But I said something like "Why stay till the next morning?" That's a fucking safety.
Optimus Prime: 2 points to me and I get to receive again.
Optimus: 9
Lazer: Hahahaah. Oh my fucking god. No, no, that is postworthy shit right there.
Optimus Prime: But then to the part pertaining Mander: Then we started talking about like "Should you interfere with friends' relationships?" And I guess I fumbled because all the womenz started talking. Like... lateraling that shit back and forth.
But then I bust in with an anecdote about Mander (interception). And like "I think a good friend wants to protect his friends from STDs and getting robbed for drug money." TD Optimus. But they blocked my XP because they were like "No, it's a friend's job to be there for their friend when their heart gets broken." Which is true.
Lazer: I see
Optimus Prime: And I didn't say it at the time, but I think it's more a friend's job to protect their friends in the first place. But they didn't agree with that either. I figure it's because all women hate each other. Even when they're "friends" they like to be right more than anything else. So they pretend like they're helping heal a broken heart, but in actuality they're gloating in that feeling of "I told you so," secretly.
AND LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT
Whores.
The lot of them.
Final score: Optimus Prime: 15 Bitches: 0
Lazer: Yup. the judges agree. Optimus crushes the competition.

But all the talking got me to thinking: Is what I do actually good? Do my friends want to be protected? So I asked:

Lazer: Yah that's good. But ya, pull them out dude, before it's too late. You're a oh shit!
You're a good person.
Optimus Prime: Whaaa???? WHAATTT?
Lazer: or at least a good friend
Optimus Prime: APOCOLYPSE!!!!TI)
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Lazer: Lemme divide by zero to fix that!
Whew, that was close.

The End.

The Inherent Problems with a Libertarian/Anarchist State.

In theory I don't have a problem with Libertarianism. For those of you who don't know, Libertarians support the preservation of all liberties and little-to-no government interference in said liberties, but also hold citizens to a certain level of personal responsibility. And that's about where my affiliation with any Libertarian would end. Because I have a more rational, realistic view of the human race - unlike idealist Libertarians - I am fully aware that to preserve liberty is insufficient. In a world where people are consistently born and life with the sole ambition of limiting other peoples' liberties (I.E. the Hitlers, Stalins, Zedongs, Pol Pots, etc., etc. of the world) a government must also take steps to protect its peoples' liberties. This is essentially the sole reason a lawless society could not function. The simple fact of the matter is that all people are bound to disagree. If there is not a government to protect all of the people, then a certain, more savage majority will take over. This is present in America today, where CEOs of massive corporations exploit the workers and consumers for their own benefit. In certain industries where the product is a more valuable one (namely healthcare, security, arms manufacture, etc.) the consumers who are given the short end of the stick don't end up just getting robbed of their money, but their lives as well. Don't believe me? Well I did some research:
Many people don't know this, but the United States is ranked number 45 for life-expectancy[1] of all nations. That puts countries like the Virgin Islands, Guam, and Puerto Rico (all U.S. properties) higher than us. The U.S. is also ranked at 180 (out of 221)[2] for infant mortality rate. That means we're not even in the top 40. More Cuban children live past the age of five/per 1000 births than do Americans. Shit, more South Korean children live past the age of five/per 1000 births than do americans.
But keep in mind that these are statistics for the whole of the country. If you take statistics for African American males (i.e. those with the lowest income), the average is a piddling 68.4 years [3], the same as a citizen of Turkmenistan; less, even, than Iraq, Iran, and Saudia Arabia (I say this only because I think maybe our current admistration should be taking more time at protecting the country it's already in charge than it should "bringing democracy" to others). And by the Census' numbers, it won't be until after 2025 that that number is even close to the national average of today.
And don't even get me started on income [in]equality. By all accounting, the income of the top 5% of Americans[4] is nearly DOUBLE that of those in the top 20%, and a family in the top 20% makes more than 4 times as much as a family in poverty. IF you were to take the income of a family in the top 5%, it would be equal to the income of nearly 16 families in the bottom 10%. Now, of course I'm comparing the numbers to get my point across, so here's some less dramatic, but still pretty fucked up numbers: A household in the top 5% makes more than 3 times that of a MEDIAN family. Median as in white-collar, middle-class America. We're talking "American Dream," Arthur Miller stuff, here, not the moderately-to-extremely poorer folks that are actually something like 60% of Americans nowadays.
So what I'm getting at is that people ARE going to take any opportunity to better themselves, and they even seem to prefer damaging other people in the process. Some might say that capitalists go out of their way to rape and pillage the consumers, and I think it should be obvious by now that the solution is not to ignore this (the Libertarian/Anarchist solution) nor is it to limit liberty (the Fascist/Totalitarian solution) but to protect all liberties equally (the OptimusPrimeist Solution).

When it comes down to it, America really isn't all that bad. Heck, with a few simple adjustments, it could be pretty great; the ideas are all there. I am a BIG fan of Life, Liberty, and Pursuit of Happiness (which, as anyone with an iota's worth of understanding in the field of politics is just the PC way of saying "Property"), it's just that I think the federal government has got them prioritized the wrong way. Where a human life should be the most valuable thing, with Liberties as second, and
property last (far less valuable than life, I'm sure everyone would agree), most of these Democratic-Republic-Capitalists are willing to let people die or work for inhumane wages just to increase their money-supply. That's the whole point of Capitalism: to generate wealth so that you can spend it on generating more wealth. But now there are people's lives being lost, and change is overdue.

In summary: Fuck Libertarians.
Fuck Anarchists.
But above all, FUCK Capitalism.

Note: I worked on writing this shit for 4 and a half hours.... I don't know why that's important, but I felt it was noteworthy.

Citations:
[1]: CIA World Fact Book: List of Nations by Life Expectancy
[2]: CIA World Fact Book: List of Nations by Infant Mortality Rate
[3]:US Census: Projected Life Expectancy by Race
[4]:Measures of Household Income Dispersion


P.S. Since Adolfo is a flake, I (Optimus) am going to post up a draft I had planned on publishing in two weeks.

Be Kind, Rewind

Hmm...

Its technically still friday.

11:59 bitches.


Anyways, tonight was the release of Be Kind, Rewind. A movie that Ash, Chiodo, and I have been wanting to see since last fucking summer. Who wouldn't after watching the trailer?
(link to trailer: http://youtube.com/watch?v=62CZL9Rhz8Y)

Jack Black was...well, the same Jack Black as ever which is a formula used countless times beforehand. Why change it? It is, however, Mos Def who steals the show in this one. His comedic delivery after one of Black's crazy antics is what this flick runs on.

So, check it out. It's pretty damn funny but not in the bust a gut laughing sort of way...kinda like Seinfield. Ash, Chiodo, and I certainly weren't disappointed and consider it Michael Gondry's (Director) best film yet.





SIDENOTE: We kept fucking running into people we knew. Whether it be a crazy couple we tried to avoid, one of Chiodo's possible future love interests, or a group of people from their school- they were fucking everywhere.

The one altercation I cannot go without mentioning is Chiodo's encounter with the love interest. We're getting our tickets and Chiodo recognizes her. She's with five or six or her friends, one of which was a dude. She says hi, Chido says hi. She happens to be watching the same movie as us, which would seem like a pretty good opener right? Well, it was...she seemed glad to see him and would like for them to chill. (Not verbatim.) He agrees, and then proceeds to introduce us to her and vice versa. After that there was a split second awkward-as-hell pause, that I think only me and Ash ended up noticing. Chiodo, being the unique individual that he is, says "Alright then, I guess I'll see you inside. Later," and fucking walks away. Ash and I follow, but were both wondering what the fuck that was about...he didn't even wait for a damn reply.

Naturally, we think he fucked up BUT may have an opportunity to mend the situation. Chiodo frantically thinks of possible ways, coming up with this: Maybe if I just say that I really needed to take a piss, it would seem less fucked up that I left?"

...

I won't even comment on that one.




20 minutes later, we're sitting at the theater with time to spare until show time. We contemplate better options, cause he damn sure needed them. We decide to save seats for the girl and her friends. We agree on a clever ploy where Chiodo will end up sitting next to the girl during the movie. Plan works to perfection with...one little flaw.

Remember that dude that was with her and her friends? Motherfucker sits on the other side of her. Confusion arises. Was this supposed to be a date? Was what happened earlier just talk? Will the previews be any good? Alright, the last one may not be completely related, but important nonetheless.

Our questions never got a definite answer (besides the third. The trailers were pretty good.) Anyway, the prior fuck up seemed to be mended in the end. There was a good amount of conversation between Chiodo and her, no explanation was needed to be given. Mission accomplished.

(Be Kind, Rewind gets 3.5 out of 5 stars)



-The King

Sports fans?

I'm not sure if this post will pose any significant relevance to any of the other writers in the blog or not, but the most recent installment of the Kobe vs. Shaq rivalry took place tonight (Wednesday), and it was definitely one for the ages.


The Lakers and Suns went back and forth in an epic battle which, of course, ended with the Lakers on top 130-124.


Sickness.


NBA FINALS PICK:
Lakers vs. Pistons


Might be a bit out of the ordinary for this blog with Optimus posting his epic drunken stories and all, but what the hell.

'Ello, 'ello...Mander here.

Whats da happs everybody?

Before I get too ahead of myself ('cause I have something in mind that I would like to write about today that I've been having fun telling people about) lemme just thank that last great American hero, OPTIMUS PRIME, for asking me to do this! It's my first post so all y'all best step back and put on some protective eye wear.

So lately I've had this burning desire to go to Mexico. We all know that when somebody says "go to Mexico," what they are actually saying is "drive twenty minutes or ride the trolley, cross the border and get wall-to-the-cock shit faced." This has yet to happen.

The first time my desire was unfulfilled was my birthday. After realizing that there was no fucking way I'd get to TJ, let alone get drunk enough to urinate on a little Mexican hombre while he stole my wallet like I originally intended, I was able to get a few people together to get a bonfire type thing going. My thinking was I'll get drunk enough to pass out just as the tide was coming in.

But it was just my fucking luck (by the way, I have the worst fucking luck. If I decide that I like all two of our readers enough, I'll write the story of how I got such bad luck, but I digress...) that not only does it start to rain, but I forget that there are like three house shows happening, a show at the Che Cafe, AND it was Lazer's mother's birthday to boot. This disappointed me terribly. Not drunk at the beach and definitely not surrounded by a transsexual stripper's full beard, like my original plan intended, I understandably went to one of the house shows.

Now these house shows are not in regular houses nor are they regular shows. They are the ultimate in DIY 'cause basically their making a full fledged show out of nothing AND I get to drink. House shows are held mainly in three places. These places are the only three places on the planet that the cops don't give a fuck about, are afraid to go, and still manage to surpass their quotas for the month. These Places would be 1) Logan Heights 2) Chula Vista and 3) any other place within 15 miles of the border. Essentially they're every bus stop you've ever seen on the news. You know the ones. Chalk outline of bodies, surrounded by CAUTION: CRIME SCENE yellow police tape, blah blah... Basically what these shows are are gatherings of poor homeless people with big brightly colored hair and bad attitudes but still enjoy each others' company enough to tolerate each other and get completely fucked up and bump their mad boss tones as loud as they want without the cops showing up.

It's about as tight as a place where your constantly in peril of getting your ass handed to you can get. Lucky for me I was with some chill ass people who in combination with Domino's birthday present to me (about 5 shots of JD) succeeded in getting me totally fucked up.
This was awesome except last time this happened I not only did NOT have a car, but I ended up walking to Hillcrest, nearly getting stabbed, witnessing a fight that involved AT LEAST 50 people, and eating burritos with a buncha twacked out Mexicans (Also another story for another time). This time how ever I DID have my car and I DID have to drive home. Luckily for me I went to the ska house show and all in all had a good time. I don't remember much other then Gypsy and her pal TheRockabillyLoveGoddess showing up and wishing me a happy birthday. Duckie showed up at one point too cause I remember skanking with her in the pit and I drove her home and stopped at Lazer's restaurant to get some food... other then that not much is coming back to me...

<3 Mander Romany

Beauty Addiction

Now I know my Co-authors will disagree with me, heartily, on this subject. But I'll say it.

I like Curvy Women.

Find me a twig with breasts the size of cantaloupes and, no. It probably won't do it for me (Although the fact of the matter is that, 1. They're probably fake, and 2. She's probably not very intelligent to want them so badly. Albeit, on a Curvy gal, they'd be okay ;D), but give me something with body, something with zest, something large and with vigor, with a mind to match, and I'll be a damned cheerful person.
~Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder~

Nuff' Said on that issue,
However, There are others to talk about.

For one thing, Addiction. It's a devil device that ails us all at one point or another. It screws you over when you think you're in the best of times, when something can't possibly get better. It's excess, it's greed, it's gluttony, But.... Who's to say how much is right...

I myself am utterly addicted to MMOs. For any of you WOW junkies out there....I'm not one of you, but I can empathize. The habit is hard to kick.... You begin by killing one or two bad guys, leveling rather quickly. You think to yourself, "This isn't so bad...An hour a day at most!"

But then, the levels get longer....The Quests get harder, the items more scarce. Each level takes more and more minutes of the day, one hour turns into two, two into four, four into eight, and soon you find yourself swimming in an oblivion of useless pixilated data and a wasted experience. Life is all about experience, so why should one waste their life by constantly playing video games?

The key is Moderation....some times it's hard but, limit yourself. It's the key to becoming a stronger individual, and kicking addiction is just one way to start. Say, "I'll play 50% today, and 50% tomorrow." Set goals, instead of mindlessly grinding unto the next level of horrifyingly mind-numbing grinding. It's still hard for me....Maplestory being my current addiction. You get a new Item, and you just want to use it right away...
But you have to take out the trash, your mind whispers....
~Screw That, I got me A Battle Axe!
But you're ignoring your friends...
~But I'm only 20% away from 43!

Excuses follow excuses...
It's a vicious cycle, but,
You're the only one who can end it.

Addiction sucks, but have more power than it.

~Codes, Still lookin' for that someone

Spock Was Wrong

I would like to start this post with a direct statement towards one Leonard Nimoy.

(For those of you not in the know, Leonard Nimoy recently published a book of photography showcasing the 'beauty' of horrendously obese women.)

You sir, are horribly, horribly wrong.

There is no beauty, pride, or joy in being fat. In this world there exists subjects that may not be universally beautiful but are nonetheless still pleasing.

This includes, but is not limited to: elegant math problems, epic fight scenes, the abstract concept of lesbians, etc. etc.

If I were to continue this extensive list, Mr. Nimoy, you would find nary a mention of any fatties. That's because they are simply not beautiful. Finding beauty in them would be akin to over analysis of a children's book and finding hidden symbolism. There simply is none there.

I find that Optimus will back me up in these claims.

Anyways, to a quick and simple story that happened to me today.

I was sitting in class (Calculus if you must know) when my neighbor Glare-Bear reaches over and undoes my shoelace.

Glare-Bear: Sorry Lazer, it was an irresistible urge.

Lazer: That's what a lot of girls say about me.

Cue incessant giggling.

Yup, my timing's pretty much perfect. I'm just gonna need some prettier targets... oh well, baby steps, right?

Optimus Prime is Apparently Obsessed with Murder... Cannot Recall What Ensues

Apparently, my subconscious that reveals itself only when the conscious is too inebriated to function is obsessed with murder. I don't think that this is much of a surprise (not to me at least) but it makes for... shall we say "entertaining" inter-personal interactions.
Take, for example, last night, when a game of beer pong that I was watching went into overtime. As most people know, you just set up a new rack of 3 cups and play from there. Well, that was not quite to my liking, and I had an alternate solution.

Optimus Prime: "Well there's only one way to settle this."
Everyone else: Vacant expressions and looks of "Duh... overtime."
Optimus prime (oblivious) "Murder fight!"

I'm still not 100% sure what a murder fight IS, per-se, but it certainly has a nice ring to it.
Needless to say, my relatively sound advice was overlooked. Not to be dissuaded, I found other ways to occupy myself with murder. For example, making simple rhyming couplets and putting them to music (in my head): "Punch, fight, kill, bite."
Apparently I also sent out an unknown quantity of text messages that said, simply: "Murder murder murder."
If and when the recipient chose to reply, I sent back a simple "Murder" and apparently that sufficed.

Anyways, thanks to the effects of anterograde amnesia, I can't remember much else, more specifically if I actually did satiate my apparent bloodlust.

What I do know is that I stole a fork and lost my jacket.

Oh, I guess I'll also take this time to introduce the "new" OPID.
Basically you (the reader) gets a new post from a new author everyday. Mondays are mine (obviously), Tuesday's Lazer's, Wednesday Codes, Thursday Mander, Friday The King, and Saturday Adolfo.
Sunday is (for now) a free day, where anyone - or possibly no one - will post. However, sometime in the future we plan on hosting Two Y Chromosomes on Sundays, the much anticipated, probably over-hyped OPID-affiliate web-comic, which is, by the way, authored by Lazer and illustrated by myself.
That's all for now, look forward to new stuff from Lazer tomorrow.

Inexperienced.

So...I read Lazer's post tonight...and I simply have one thing to say. Are you fucking kidding me?? You are critiquing movies? Im sorry, but if anybody is critiquing a movie, it will be me, for reasons not need to be said.


Anyways...
There's my little rant.

Great introduction hmm?




Not so known movies that should be seen...now:
-The Usual Suspects
-The Professional
-Kiss Kiss Bang Bang


Watch them, thank me, and carry on.

Goodnight.

Cleaning up my cell phone.

Because the piece of shit has probably the smallest memory of any electronic device ever. Seriously, the inbox fills up after 15 texts.

So here's the shit that for whatever reason i thought was worth saving, but am posting here so I can clear that shit out of my phone.

Firstly the texts that I sent or received that I thought were noteworthy:
To my grandmother, who despite her efforts, has not exactly grasped the concept of text messaging:

Just FYI, unlike telegrams, text messages do not charge per character STOP As long as the message is less than 160 characters, its all the same price STOP

Aren't I just a cheeky bastard?
The answer is yes, by the way. In case you weren't convinced.
Ahh this is a great one... It was from me to Lazer after a deaf friend of mine failed to show up at the time and place I was expecting her to:

I would say i have to give her a tongue lashing, but that would be pointless. So ill give her a hand lashing. i guess thats just domestic abuse. So ill do it twice!

And people wonder why I'm single.

Oh right, this was a good one from Lazer, a sort of pep-talk, if you will, just before a night of partying.

Remember you only have morals when having them will advance your immoral means.

Words to live by.

OH yes. Last but not least, my plans for a brilliant video. I swear to god if any of you fuckers steal this, I'll end everything you've ever loved and will ever live to love.

Dude, great idea for a vid: a take off on rock band called ska band. Go out and by those cheap plastic horns, then paint them to look like controllers.. Some choice lines: the hardest part is finding a big enough tv and 12 people who still listen to ska! & New controllers: guitar that onl strums up, bass with 6 extra buttons for the most ridiculous walking basslines you could ever dream of! Alto, tenor, and baritone saxes providing intricacy only a band geek could care about! Trombone for everyones fat friend! Trumpet because we all know someone that can only manage to coordinat 3 fingers simultaneously! And keyboard for all these popular 2 tone songs:
A message to you, rudy - the specials
That one song from nickelodeons kablam! - the english beat... and many more!

I'm so witty.

Let's see... what else do I have saved...
Oooh, memos! They're short, concise, and to the point!

I hate everything.

Classy!

http://www.keenspot.com

I think it's a webcomic host... Keep an eye out for Two 'Y' Chromosomes if I ever get a working Mac again...

http;//tcbn.org/schools/rit

Oooh, my school's blog-ring... maybe I should get in on that. But probably not.

And then there's voice memos... two clips of me singing along with Streetlight Manifesto (poorly, I might add) at their show in Buffalo earlier this year, and as soon as I figure out how to get that shit on the intrawebz, you'll know.

That's all for now.

You might've noticed some changes...

That is, if you are actually reading the blog to begin with, which I doubt, because I'm pretty sure the page gets like 4 hits a month and all of them are the authors.
But anyways, I've updated the page, and added 4 new authors, TheKing, ManderRomany, Codes, and Adolfo, all of whom have had major starring roles in some OPID stories, whether or not they've been published here. Hopefully with a new resolve and a doubled writing staff this shit can start to be legit, and updated more regularly. My goal is 6 posts per week. That's right, one post per author per week.

Tell all your friends.

(More news to come)

Confessions and Movies

I, Lazer McSanchez, am a nice guy.

Fuck.

No, seriously. I probably hold the world record for friend zone entrance. I fucking dive into that shit. My goal is to be more of an asshole. I think once I can bring that up I'll be on cruise control.

Oh, and contrary to Optimus' Valentine's day, I had a great one.

4 stars on DragonForce's Through the Fire and Flames. Bam.

Medium, but epic nonetheless.

Ya, so I think I'm going to be posting more. I'll talk about movies, so that'll give me some blog fodder.

I saw When Harry Met Sally this V-Day, I can see why it's a classic. Billy Crystal's character was fun to hate, while we were kinda annoyed by Meg Ryan's Sally, but in the way where we sympathize with her. However, this is where the movie's strong point comes in, the character's development over time. This is especially evident when Harry and Sally are reminiscing and refuse to believe the things they said when they were younger.

The movie's classic scenes definitely shine through, especially Crystal's speech detailing the exact reasons why he loves Sally. I found myself rooting for both characters, wanting Harry to win and wanting Sally to get who she deserves. The movie is definitely about both characters and their (admittedly realistic) quest for love, and we are never forced to choose sides. We watch two characters who play off each other with their differences transition to best friends and through a long struggle finally become lovers. A wonderful movie of destiny, love, and friendship.

So I'm using my roommate's computer...

...which means I have more time for this post (i.e. I can use grammerz and what not) but it does NOT mean I have anything to write about, really.

What I do have is a story about my shitty Valentine's Day:

Since I'm a terrible person who is emotionally incapable of being in a meaningful relationship with anyone, I was alone. I probably could've made plans with any one of the countless women who for whatever reason seem infatuated with me, but being the self-loathing prick, I decided that I would rather get trashed (I don't have any classes on Thursdays anymore) and watch romance movies ALONE - alone being the operative word.
And of course, my roommate, the perpetual dick he is, decided that it was the perfect day to like... be in the room all day. That coupled with the fact that I have no liquor, and not even so much as 3 dollars for a cheap 40 makes it seem like my pity-party is ruined. And it is.
Eventually I get fed up of my roommate and tell him in not so many words to "get the fuck out," and for once he obliges me.
So I got the alone part covered, and that's the most crucial part, but then the sorrow that I was supposed to drown in cheap liquor becomes overbearing. All I have is rubbing alcohol, and that's uh... not healthy. But it does bring to mind memories of better times in a better place of making cheap ether using nothing more than starter fluid and water. So, being lonely, depressed, and desperate I mix up what I later coined "drug soup." It's approximately 2 parts rubbing alcohol, 1 part nail polish remover, 3 parts hot water, and 6 parts brain damage. ... In retrospect, I can imagine myself coming into some legal trouble for posting the recipe here, but I don't fucking care, because no one reads this shit. (Please don't sue me).
I started huffing that shit like like a doctor was holding me upside down and smacking me on the ass.
Well, it worked, to a certain extent, to that I lost control of about 90% of my motor skills.... for about 10 minutes. And then it all came back. Plus the worst headache I can remember.

The moral of the story: Kill yourself young so you don't become a pathetic burnout like me.

Oh, also, apparently I'm a sophomore now. My credits from college classes I took in high school FINALLY transferred to RIT.
"Optimus Prime: 17-year-old college sophomore" has a nice ring, I think.

I'm like the role-model parents don't want their kids to know about.