Today in my Rastor imaging class (which is a misnomer; it should be called Photoshop for Baby Monkeys with Down's Syndrome) I got bored, so I started taking pictures of the cute girls around me.
I got three.
Also: ... International copyright laws be damned, from now on my name is Optimus Prime. You Can call me Optimus Prime, Optimus, Prime, or even OP, but no more of this '[Legal Birth Name]' bullshit.
That is all.
- Optimus Prime
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Dancing: Is there anything it CAN'T do?
There was a show on campus the other night called Skafest. It was $1.
Needless to say, I was in attendance.
The highlight of the evening, probably, was when I was skanking (for you more ignorant reader, that's what you call dancing to ska music. It has nothing to do with my man-whorish tendencies) behind this pretty cute girl (I'd say 3 1/2 stars) who was wearing a tight dress and some tights. Anyways, she had a nice butt, and in keeping up with my manly status of... well, Me (yes, Optimus Prime is a status now. It's somewhere above Jesus, but slightly below James Bond) I decided to practice my "C" from Maddox's Alphabet of Manliness.
A quick aside: for those of you who don't know, the C in the Alphabet of Manliness is for "Copping a Feel". If you don't know what the Alphabet of Manliness is, Google it, then fuck off and die.
Long story short, I grabbed her butt. It was nice.
Needless to say, I was in attendance.
The highlight of the evening, probably, was when I was skanking (for you more ignorant reader, that's what you call dancing to ska music. It has nothing to do with my man-whorish tendencies) behind this pretty cute girl (I'd say 3 1/2 stars) who was wearing a tight dress and some tights. Anyways, she had a nice butt, and in keeping up with my manly status of... well, Me (yes, Optimus Prime is a status now. It's somewhere above Jesus, but slightly below James Bond) I decided to practice my "C" from Maddox's Alphabet of Manliness.
A quick aside: for those of you who don't know, the C in the Alphabet of Manliness is for "Copping a Feel". If you don't know what the Alphabet of Manliness is, Google it, then fuck off and die.
Long story short, I grabbed her butt. It was nice.
Addenda (addendum?) to my Saturday post:
While i have decided NOT to edit my wonderfully drunk post from last Saturday evening/ Sunday morning, there are a few things that either 1) I remembered only afterwards, when I was sober, or 2) that happened after the post, yet are still post-worthy. So, without further adoooooo:
First I'd like to say that all the events of last Saturday night's partying required me to be intoxicated by only 8 beers and a shot of coffee liqueur. Before you all say shit like "omgzorz Optimus, did you live your liver in San Diego lolz" I must let the record show that Saturday was also the last day of the I Phelta Thi (or whatever sorority) Red Cross blood drive. So, with the information that I was short a sack or two of blood only makes the fact that I remember in almost perfect lucidity the happenings of that evening even greater testament to my ginormous manhood. I make a CERTAIN physics teacher (whom I don't want to incriminate because he's probably tied for the position of number 1 teacher at my high school) proud.
2) What is likely the highlight of my evening was one of the things that happened latest in the night. As we stood outside the last party waiting for our ride or whatever, my roommate, TheRoommate, was macking with his lady companion of the evening. He announced at some point that he was going to go back to her room, and the conversation proceeded as follows:
TheRoommate "I'm going back to [Girl]'s room, so, uh, I'll see you in the morning."
Optimus "Ooohh... sex."
The Roommate "Haha, yeah we're going to snuggle."
Optimus (obscene hand gesture)
TheRoommate (laughs)
[Girl] "Oh my god that's so gross!"
TheRoommate "Haha, you're drunk."
[Girl] "Haha, yeah..."
They start to kiss again.
Optimus "Remember, TheRoommate... Date rape is illegal."
The Roommate(laughs)
[Girl] (blank stare)
3) Another note-worthy event (the hilarity of that pun will get you in a couple of lines) was what happened just after I posted the initial blog.
My initial plan was just to sleep on the floor. The dorms here at RIT all have bunk beds, and... well, I just didn't see that fairing well. Note: I live in upstate New York now (dhur) so it's cold as shit. And TheRoommate had left his window open all day and night, meaning that at the time I decided to finally pass out, it was probably close on 40 degrees in our room.
Since it was cold as shit, I grabbed the nearest thing to me, using it as a blanket. Ahh, beauticious. Seconds away from unconsciousness, I realize that I'm probably a bit of a spectacle there, lying in the middle of the floor, wrapped in my bath towel, and that the logical thing to do would be to leave a note for my roommate when he happens upon me in the morning. So I clumsily rise, grab a sheet of printer paper and scrawl on it in Sharpie: (note: this is verbatim)
"Dear TheRoommate:
Just kick me in the face. I probably deserve it.
Fuck your Shit
- Optimus."
I lay back down and, not wanting to display this proudly on the door for my RA (who lives in the room next door) to discover. Did I mention that I live in the substance free dorm? Because I do.
Anyways, there I am, lying on the ground, under my towel, with this note placed delicately on top of it all. And after all that effort, I realize that it's unavoidable that my RA will use his master key to come into my room and discover me like this so he can document me. Drunk-logic is amazing, isn't it? Not only is that totally against the rules, but my RA just isn't that intrusive or mean. Anyways, I toss the note, hang up my towel, and crawl clumsily into the shaky bed to crash (only figuratively, fortunately) and wake up at noon the following day.
Good times.
4) Last, and also probably least; I wore a pretty generic "Oh shit it's cold and I'm in a bitchy mood and about to get drunk outfit": my normal clothes topped with a black hoodie and my skeleton-hand gloves. It was at the last party that some relatively drunk dude asked me, seemingly out of nowhere what kind of music I'm into.
Optimus (at the top of my lungs) "SKA!!"
[Dude] "Haha, cool. I was kinda worried that you were like, emo or something."
Optimus "FUCK THAT SHIT."
Anyways, I guess that this guy overheard me. Hes all like
"DUDE I LOVE SKA!! YOU HAVE TO LET ME KNOW WHEN THERE ARE SKA SHOWS IN ROCHESTER!!"
So I get his name and number, and tell him about how he missed the $1 ska show he missed on campus the night before.
He nearly threw a pissy fit. But he was one of those drunks that never stops smiling. ... Fuck you, you had to be there. I thought it was hilarious, and so did TheRoommate.
Oh, also, there was a guy that was wearing a Rancid sweater at the same party. I commented on it, we started talking about which albums we liked, and seemingly out of nowhere, he asked if I like the Aquabats. I unzip my shirt to reveal my Aquacadets shirt, and he unzips his sweater to reveal an MCBC shirt. It was sick, AND unexpected.
First I'd like to say that all the events of last Saturday night's partying required me to be intoxicated by only 8 beers and a shot of coffee liqueur. Before you all say shit like "omgzorz Optimus, did you live your liver in San Diego lolz" I must let the record show that Saturday was also the last day of the I Phelta Thi (or whatever sorority) Red Cross blood drive. So, with the information that I was short a sack or two of blood only makes the fact that I remember in almost perfect lucidity the happenings of that evening even greater testament to my ginormous manhood. I make a CERTAIN physics teacher (whom I don't want to incriminate because he's probably tied for the position of number 1 teacher at my high school) proud.
2) What is likely the highlight of my evening was one of the things that happened latest in the night. As we stood outside the last party waiting for our ride or whatever, my roommate, TheRoommate, was macking with his lady companion of the evening. He announced at some point that he was going to go back to her room, and the conversation proceeded as follows:
TheRoommate "I'm going back to [Girl]'s room, so, uh, I'll see you in the morning."
Optimus "Ooohh... sex."
The Roommate "Haha, yeah we're going to snuggle."
Optimus (obscene hand gesture)
TheRoommate (laughs)
[Girl] "Oh my god that's so gross!"
TheRoommate "Haha, you're drunk."
[Girl] "Haha, yeah..."
They start to kiss again.
Optimus "Remember, TheRoommate... Date rape is illegal."
The Roommate(laughs)
[Girl] (blank stare)
3) Another note-worthy event (the hilarity of that pun will get you in a couple of lines) was what happened just after I posted the initial blog.
My initial plan was just to sleep on the floor. The dorms here at RIT all have bunk beds, and... well, I just didn't see that fairing well. Note: I live in upstate New York now (dhur) so it's cold as shit. And TheRoommate had left his window open all day and night, meaning that at the time I decided to finally pass out, it was probably close on 40 degrees in our room.
Since it was cold as shit, I grabbed the nearest thing to me, using it as a blanket. Ahh, beauticious. Seconds away from unconsciousness, I realize that I'm probably a bit of a spectacle there, lying in the middle of the floor, wrapped in my bath towel, and that the logical thing to do would be to leave a note for my roommate when he happens upon me in the morning. So I clumsily rise, grab a sheet of printer paper and scrawl on it in Sharpie: (note: this is verbatim)
"Dear TheRoommate:
Just kick me in the face. I probably deserve it.
Fuck your Shit
- Optimus."
I lay back down and, not wanting to display this proudly on the door for my RA (who lives in the room next door) to discover. Did I mention that I live in the substance free dorm? Because I do.
Anyways, there I am, lying on the ground, under my towel, with this note placed delicately on top of it all. And after all that effort, I realize that it's unavoidable that my RA will use his master key to come into my room and discover me like this so he can document me. Drunk-logic is amazing, isn't it? Not only is that totally against the rules, but my RA just isn't that intrusive or mean. Anyways, I toss the note, hang up my towel, and crawl clumsily into the shaky bed to crash (only figuratively, fortunately) and wake up at noon the following day.
Good times.
4) Last, and also probably least; I wore a pretty generic "Oh shit it's cold and I'm in a bitchy mood and about to get drunk outfit": my normal clothes topped with a black hoodie and my skeleton-hand gloves. It was at the last party that some relatively drunk dude asked me, seemingly out of nowhere what kind of music I'm into.
Optimus (at the top of my lungs) "SKA!!"
[Dude] "Haha, cool. I was kinda worried that you were like, emo or something."
Optimus "FUCK THAT SHIT."
Anyways, I guess that this guy overheard me. Hes all like
"DUDE I LOVE SKA!! YOU HAVE TO LET ME KNOW WHEN THERE ARE SKA SHOWS IN ROCHESTER!!"
So I get his name and number, and tell him about how he missed the $1 ska show he missed on campus the night before.
He nearly threw a pissy fit. But he was one of those drunks that never stops smiling. ... Fuck you, you had to be there. I thought it was hilarious, and so did TheRoommate.
Oh, also, there was a guy that was wearing a Rancid sweater at the same party. I commented on it, we started talking about which albums we liked, and seemingly out of nowhere, he asked if I like the Aquabats. I unzip my shirt to reveal my Aquacadets shirt, and he unzips his sweater to reveal an MCBC shirt. It was sick, AND unexpected.
They're delcious AND nutritious.
Sometime earlier tonight my roommate calls me out into the hallway to see a sculpture he has made outside of someone's door.
It is a crude penis entering an even cruder vagina, each made of a couple of assorted Airheads. What he failed to mention was that there was an entire box filled with Airheads outside said door.
They are now mine.
Airheads rock.
I ate 3, and already I can feel my internal organs being coated by a protective and delicious layer of sugar and preservatives.
It is a crude penis entering an even cruder vagina, each made of a couple of assorted Airheads. What he failed to mention was that there was an entire box filled with Airheads outside said door.
They are now mine.
Airheads rock.
I ate 3, and already I can feel my internal organs being coated by a protective and delicious layer of sugar and preservatives.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Preemptive CD reviesw: Streetlight Manifesto - "Somewhere in the Between"
Somewhere in the Between is bound to hit shelves November 13th.
After years of chronic blue-balling since Everything Goes Numb came out (yes, I'm purposefully omitting Keasbey Nights because... well, frankly, I'd heard all those songs before) I can honestly say that, based on my continuous listening of the 31 seconds of sample clips posted on their webpage - given in the form of :12 of We Will Fall Together, :07 of Down, Down to Mephisto's Cafe, and :12 of Would You Be Impressed? - that this album will be the most explosive unanimous eargasm of Kalnoky fan-boys possible. There'll be checkered musical splooge coating the entire continental United States, as well as parts of Canada and Mexico for WEEKS after its eventual release.
This album is going to fuck our ear pussies so hard that even the most hard-hearted cynic will forget the angsty anticipation in which we waited so anxiously, intermittent with delays, excuses, and general ass-hattery on Streetlight's part.
Yes, this album is going to be great.
I maybe the world's biggest dick (read: I am the world's biggest dick) but I can truthfully say that the 12 seconds of crooning and horn riffs of We Will Fall Together is, by itself, enough to warm my heart. I may yet love again.
But, if I do, I'll love Tomas Kalnoky.
Sorry ladies, guess I'm gay now.
But I digress... seriously, go buy this fucking album. Pre-order it as soon as you can. If you can't... start walking to the nearest record store. Trust me. You DO NOT want to miss this.
- Optimus Prime
Note: You, too, can preview this album at Streetlight Manifesto's web-page, http://www.streetlightmanifesto.com
Although, do so at your own risk. If you listen to the short clips, you too may be possessed by the desire. It's literally eating away at my mind. I have dementia now because I literally CANNOT WAIT any longer for this CD.
After years of chronic blue-balling since Everything Goes Numb came out (yes, I'm purposefully omitting Keasbey Nights because... well, frankly, I'd heard all those songs before) I can honestly say that, based on my continuous listening of the 31 seconds of sample clips posted on their webpage - given in the form of :12 of We Will Fall Together, :07 of Down, Down to Mephisto's Cafe, and :12 of Would You Be Impressed? - that this album will be the most explosive unanimous eargasm of Kalnoky fan-boys possible. There'll be checkered musical splooge coating the entire continental United States, as well as parts of Canada and Mexico for WEEKS after its eventual release.
This album is going to fuck our ear pussies so hard that even the most hard-hearted cynic will forget the angsty anticipation in which we waited so anxiously, intermittent with delays, excuses, and general ass-hattery on Streetlight's part.
Yes, this album is going to be great.
I maybe the world's biggest dick (read: I am the world's biggest dick) but I can truthfully say that the 12 seconds of crooning and horn riffs of We Will Fall Together is, by itself, enough to warm my heart. I may yet love again.
But, if I do, I'll love Tomas Kalnoky.
Sorry ladies, guess I'm gay now.
But I digress... seriously, go buy this fucking album. Pre-order it as soon as you can. If you can't... start walking to the nearest record store. Trust me. You DO NOT want to miss this.
- Optimus Prime
Note: You, too, can preview this album at Streetlight Manifesto's web-page, http://www.streetlightmanifesto.com
Although, do so at your own risk. If you listen to the short clips, you too may be possessed by the desire. It's literally eating away at my mind. I have dementia now because I literally CANNOT WAIT any longer for this CD.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Optimus Prime visits his first-ever college party; types drunk.
As 9i type tyhis, i'm smashed off my face. Not quite smashed offmy ass, so i guess on the tucker max scale that means i'm pretty much fucked in half. Anyaways, tponight i went o my fitrst college party.Well, actually, first 3 college parties. so i guess i'll recant those to you.
Party one: i got a ride from a broad in a ford focus. we had 6 peopleand 4 seats/ My roommate was hooking up with the one girl on campus for whom i'd cut mu dick off to have sex qith. That's pleasant, so i mumble about how id like to kill everyon uner my breath. When we get to the party, i down a beer, and then proceed to play a drinking game involving cards called Mr. Dickhead. Obviously, i win, and down 3 beerz during the course of the game. Some dick tries to coax us out of our money to ;'buy more beer' and i bitch,
we get our money back, and as we're kleaving, i pee in his bathroom sink. Take that, Fucker!
[
partyuc2: nothing. we leave, and i'm the only one with more liquor in his system: io chug some cofee liquuerr. GROSS, but alcoholic.
Pary 3: we drove around a boit to find it, but we did, eventually. Turns out, this one's on campus. Anyways, i drink acouple [dozen]more nbeeers and get fucked in half. Undoubtedly, i curse out some bitches, kick some stuff (tiurns out the bike chained to the front porch belongs to one of the kids throwing the party;... ooops.); anyways, eventually i'm so drunk that i hate everything more than before. That's usually a bad sign. I moke too sgharettes, without takingeither ut of my mout.. I bet i look cool when i do it. In my defense, at least i fijnsidhed the,.. WWehn the bitch (tyyeah, she was a women fdriver, but atl lesast sehw was sober...) drives me home, i get out befroe the car stops, and i sahout "Thanks, fat bithc," bedfore storming to my room to type this. Ih vane;t looked at the screen since i typedthis, mostly for comedic affet. So.... enjoy. I'll probably post another versioj tommoroow morning when i'm sober so that yuo can actually undersand what i'm tyuping. Bitches.
Party one: i got a ride from a broad in a ford focus. we had 6 peopleand 4 seats/ My roommate was hooking up with the one girl on campus for whom i'd cut mu dick off to have sex qith. That's pleasant, so i mumble about how id like to kill everyon uner my breath. When we get to the party, i down a beer, and then proceed to play a drinking game involving cards called Mr. Dickhead. Obviously, i win, and down 3 beerz during the course of the game. Some dick tries to coax us out of our money to ;'buy more beer' and i bitch,
we get our money back, and as we're kleaving, i pee in his bathroom sink. Take that, Fucker!
[
partyuc2: nothing. we leave, and i'm the only one with more liquor in his system: io chug some cofee liquuerr. GROSS, but alcoholic.
Pary 3: we drove around a boit to find it, but we did, eventually. Turns out, this one's on campus. Anyways, i drink acouple [dozen]more nbeeers and get fucked in half. Undoubtedly, i curse out some bitches, kick some stuff (tiurns out the bike chained to the front porch belongs to one of the kids throwing the party;... ooops.); anyways, eventually i'm so drunk that i hate everything more than before. That's usually a bad sign. I moke too sgharettes, without takingeither ut of my mout.. I bet i look cool when i do it. In my defense, at least i fijnsidhed the,.. WWehn the bitch (tyyeah, she was a women fdriver, but atl lesast sehw was sober...) drives me home, i get out befroe the car stops, and i sahout "Thanks, fat bithc," bedfore storming to my room to type this. Ih vane;t looked at the screen since i typedthis, mostly for comedic affet. So.... enjoy. I'll probably post another versioj tommoroow morning when i'm sober so that yuo can actually undersand what i'm tyuping. Bitches.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
If God exists, he probably thinks I'm a dick too.
I don't mean to sound like a jerk (well... that's up for debate) but seriously people....
Talking to your imaginary friend never makes anything better. I guess I can see how it's a bummer that those people died (not really, I'm just pretending, since i wasn't one of them) but really... How does this really affect us? You all talk about 'remember 9/11' which makes it impossibly hard to forget it. And that's just what we need to do. If we took this much time being butt-hurt about what is really an insignificant event every time, we'd still be crying about that ice-cream cone I dropped last week. But we don't, we get over it, because it changes nothing. The world is still turning, life still goes on, America is still over-populated, fat, disgustingly greedy and proud, and I don't see that changing as long as you mopey mother are caught up in the past.
Don't get me wrong, it's cool with me if you pray and stuff, but... don't you think you should be a little more proactive? Use your big brain for stuff; things can be prevented or at least easily fixed if you just use your noggin. Maybe God's answer to all of your prayers for the victims of the attack was presented in the form of a national democratic election just 3 years later. Maybe if you hadn't prayed so hard, Bush would've declared a state of emergency right after the attacks when his approval rating was at an all-time high and declared himself dictator. But he didn't, and yet somehow everyone STILL missed their queue come November '04. The man's a dumb-ass, face it.
I'll forgive you, but really, if you want to do something that REALLY means something FOR the victims of the attack (as well as everyone else who has suffered as a result, American and non-American, citizen and soldier alike) vote for someone to end the war. Be it Clinton, Obama, even Ron Paul, I just don't give a fuck.
But stop making yourselves stupid and be a little proactive, you freeloading jerks.
And remember, there's always the chance that God doesn't exist, so you'd be smart to at least set up a back-up plan for yourselves... you know... just in case all your prayers don't all come through.
Talking to your imaginary friend never makes anything better. I guess I can see how it's a bummer that those people died (not really, I'm just pretending, since i wasn't one of them) but really... How does this really affect us? You all talk about 'remember 9/11' which makes it impossibly hard to forget it. And that's just what we need to do. If we took this much time being butt-hurt about what is really an insignificant event every time, we'd still be crying about that ice-cream cone I dropped last week. But we don't, we get over it, because it changes nothing. The world is still turning, life still goes on, America is still over-populated, fat, disgustingly greedy and proud, and I don't see that changing as long as you mopey mother are caught up in the past.
Don't get me wrong, it's cool with me if you pray and stuff, but... don't you think you should be a little more proactive? Use your big brain for stuff; things can be prevented or at least easily fixed if you just use your noggin. Maybe God's answer to all of your prayers for the victims of the attack was presented in the form of a national democratic election just 3 years later. Maybe if you hadn't prayed so hard, Bush would've declared a state of emergency right after the attacks when his approval rating was at an all-time high and declared himself dictator. But he didn't, and yet somehow everyone STILL missed their queue come November '04. The man's a dumb-ass, face it.
I'll forgive you, but really, if you want to do something that REALLY means something FOR the victims of the attack (as well as everyone else who has suffered as a result, American and non-American, citizen and soldier alike) vote for someone to end the war. Be it Clinton, Obama, even Ron Paul, I just don't give a fuck.
But stop making yourselves stupid and be a little proactive, you freeloading jerks.
And remember, there's always the chance that God doesn't exist, so you'd be smart to at least set up a back-up plan for yourselves... you know... just in case all your prayers don't all come through.
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