Forever alone

It’s surprising how much people in our modern society rely on the Internet for, well, everything.  I for one use the internet as a thermometer, weather balloon, television, phone book and generally to entertain myself in any way I see fit.  I love the internet.  I need the internet.  Therefore, I was disturbingly distressed when I awoke this morning to the sounds of birds chirping and butterflies…chirping outside my door and booted up Google chrome on my Mac book, and discovered that none of the web pages loaded.

I pressed refresh.


“No…no!” I muttered under my breath.  I swiftly turned my computer’s wifi off and on again, attempting to reconnect to the network.  I had full bars.  I hungrily pressed refresh.


“DEAR GOD NO!!!”  I screamed, running over to the counter that held the router and modem.  I fumbled around furiously with their power cords until I finally disconnected them from the wall, tearing some sheetrock off in the process.  I counted to three in the amount of time it normally takes for me to count to ½ and plugged them back in.  Lights lit up.  I grinned madly

“yesyesYes FUCK YEAH!” I howled as more lights burst forth, like when Hugo Weaving opened that Norse box thing I Captain America.  To the passerby it would have seemed as if someone was shining a green and orange flashlight upwards under my chin, distorting my maniacal face to monstrous proportions.  I flew back to my computer and mashed refresh like 50 times.


“bwaaa bwaaa bwaaaa bwaaaa BWAAAAAAH!” I blabbered madly as I attempted to beat the internet into submission with my head via my keyboard.  But the internet feels no pain…

What was I to do?  Logically, I should call Sprint or whoever it is that provides me with sweet, sweet internet, but how was I to get their number without Google?  Wait!  That’s it I thought My Iphone!  That’s it.  I roughly grabbed it and searched “sprint internet help call now please god please.”  After 10 seconds the page was only 1/20000th loaded.

IT’S TOO FUCKING SLOW!!!!” I screamed, hurling my phone through the sliding glass door which shattered into a million glittering pieces.  I collapsed into a heap and wept.

After some time I stood up and got on my computer.  I hit refresh.  Nothing.  Now what am I supposed to do the whole day?  Listen to iTunes?  Take pictures of myself in photobooth?  Play the Sims 3?  Wait… the Sims 3.  Hmmmmm.

The sims, for those of you who don’t know, is a game where you create a character, or characters, who live out a fake simulated life, down to the horrifyingly smallest detal, like pooping, and you “somewhat” control.  But they are kind of really stupid children: they can’t do anything actually important by themselves.  You have to tell them to make their food etc.  Oh, and they whine.  This games kind of a pain in the ass…

I started the game and immediately started making a new sim.  I decided that this guys was going to be as bad and as I feel without the internet.  This guy was going to suck.  Fat, balding, near-sighted and sporting a styling soul patch, he was well on his way to being the worst sim ever, but I wasn’t done with him yet.  Oh no.  In the sims 3, you get to pick 5 personality traits for your sim.  These can be good or bad, but you only get 5.  I chose, not surprisingly, all bad ones: neurotic (he freaks out over nothing), slob (no explanation needed), loser (bad shit happens to him all the time), inappropriate (he always be doing awkward and inappropriate things) and grumpy (see slob).  For his life long dream I chose becoming a chess master, the loneliest of all the options..  His name?  Forever alone.

In case you don’t know the forever alone meme, a link can be found here.  You only need to read the first part.  It’s pretty much comics of something depressing happening.  The final panel is always that picture, captioned “forever alone.”  He looks like this


And here’s how most of the comics go:

I decided to buy a premade house for Mr. Alone, but I wanted to furnish it myself.  Unfortunately, as soon as I bought the damn thing all the pipes in the house burst and there was extensive water damage.  This was a random event the computer creates.  I could tell this was going to be a good game.  Fortunately, Forever’s neighbor was a plumber and he decided, out of the kindness of his heart, to come over and help.   Forever, being perpetually grumpy, insulted his mother until he left.

Forever cleaned up the mess himself and then went out to find a job. At the graveyard. Not surprisingly, he got it. The job started at 6pm, so he spent the rest of the say exploring the graveyards catacombs by himself. He then went to work as a gravedigger. He has no co workers.Forever....aloneeeee

After work Forever, using what looked like a commodore 64 (it was the most terrible computer I could buy for him), went on the sim’s version of 4chan and posted some inappropriate thread and then went to sleep at 10.  He woke up at 8 and checked to see if anyone commented.  No one did, nor would they ever in the countless other posts I had him make.


So far my game was going swimmingly.  I was feeling much better about my lack of internet.  Mr. Alone continued to work at the graveyard, getting promoted twice and earning far more cash than ever!  He could finally start to afford nice things, like telescopes!  Unfortunately, the game informed me that I forgot to pay his bills and a repo man was coming over to take the nice things (telescopes) I just bought for him.  I had him run to his mailbox and pay the bill, then go inside and make some breakfast.  The repo man, who turned out to be a woman, arrived moments later and entered his house.  Forever went up to chat with her, since she was the first human being he had seen in nearly a fortnight that wasn’t his boss or dead.  She, in turn, stole his computer and bath tub (yes, his fucking bath tub!  She just picked it up and put it in her sack of stolen goods!) then left without saying a word.  I had no more money to replace those taken items, since I had tried to pay the late bill.  My sim took sponge baths in the kitchen sink from then on.

If you remember, I had selected “become a chess master” for Forever’s lifelong dream.  In order to become one, forever must defeat an evil cabal of other chess players.  To simplify it in terms that all of my readers are familiar with, it’s like the gym system in pokemon.  I therefore purchased him a table and, with no previous experience playing chess invited the chess person over, wondering at the outcome.  The successfulness of all activities in the Sims are calculated based on skills.  Skills can correspond to many different activites, the higher the better.  I had gotten Forever’s logic, the chess skill, up to 7 out of 10, which is pretty high.  He should have been able to beat his opponent handily.  He lost seven matches in a row, whereupon his opponent said she was leaving because she was just too damn bored.  Apparentally forever wasn’t smart enough to win at, well, anything.  He cried himself to sleep.


After some more time playing I learned that your sims apparently have some numbers saved in their phones of stock characters who they are “acquaintances” with.  I excitedly planned a party for the next day, inviting all of them.  Perhaps Forever Alone was not doomed to be forever alone after all.  That night a thief broke into his house and stole all the furniture and his TV.  The guests arrived the next day, but stayed no more than a few minutes before they made frantic and halfhearted excuses and left.  I suppose they had no desire to attend a party hosted by a creepy gravedigger with no drinks or food in a house with no furniture.

Angered by their insolence, I invited all the sims over again, and had Forever Alone lead them into the extra room.  He then ran out and shut the door, which I promptly removed from the house creation panel, so that the party guests were effectively trapped at the party.  Forever.  I then put some windows in between the kitchen and spare room Forever could talk to the people trapped within.  For once in his miserable life, forever wasn’t alone.  They all died of starvation a few days later, and haunted the fuck out of the house.  Yeah, they actually turned into ghosts.  Forever was forced to move to a smaller, worse house farther from work with even less stuff inside. many times can i have the same picture in one post?

After a while I felt like I needed to get out of the house, so I went to Starbucks.  When I got back, I just couldn’t stay interested in the game.  What else was there to do?  I pretty much beat it.  I decided to check the Internet again.  Nothing.   Worse still, I had closed out of the sims without saving.  I shut my computer and proceeded to stare blankly out the window into my backyard.  No birds flew by.  No butterflies fluttered lazily in the heat.  No squirrels danced playfully in the trees.  Nothing.

I checked my phone.  No calls, messages or texts.  I stared out the window some more, all the while wondering if maybe, just maybe, I too would become….

Once more, apparently

A completely Unbiased and Wholly Accurate List of the Best Super Heroes Ever

There’s a whole lot of “lists” floating around the “internet” rating “stuff” like the best superheroes.  Take IGN’s list.  It’s pretty complete, granted, but very innacurate.  Superman as number one?  I’ve always thought superman was the most boring super hero ever made.  Here’s a quick summary of every superman story ever:

  1. Something bad happens
  2. Superman, who is pretty much god, flies over and almost saves the day
  3. Uh-oh!  Kryptonite shows up!
  4. Superman somehow defeats the bad guys and the Kryptonite

That’s why super man is boring.  He’s too strong for any sort of interesting conflict.  Therefore, I made my my own Completely Unbiased and Wholly Accurate Best Super Heroes Ever List! to show IGN how it should be done.  These heroes have character depth.  These heroes have weaknesses. All of these following individuals are completely 100% guaranteed superheroes and completely 100% guaranteed awesome.



Batman is the exact opposite of superman.  Superman has all the powers, Batman has gadgets/no powers.  Superman has to work for a living, Batman doesn’t.  Kryptonite crushes Superman, Batman eats it for breakfast like a delicious bowl of frosted wheaties.  Batman, incase you are the same person I talked about last post who didn’t know anything about harry potter, is the sexy millionaire playboy super hero detective sleuth that everyone loves.  Here’s a mathematical equation to express batman:  this

Playboy? Check. Rich? Check

Plus this:

Bat? Check

Divided by the square root of this:

Insane actor?  CHEEEEEECK!!!!!!!!!!!

Equals Sparta.  See?  Great ingredients, great hero.  Oh, and his weakness?  Weapons.  And dying.

Frodo Baggins

Hey! It's my blog. I can put whoever I fucking want on the list

What’s that?  You trolls are saying that Frodo isn’t a super hero?  That he doesn’t have any super powers?  Oh ok.  Why don’t I just bring the one ring over to your cave and have you carry it to Mt. Doom and not get corrupted by it’s evil powers until almost the very end?

The ring of power

Deal with it.

What about the power to be really wimpy and whine alot?  That’s what I thought.  Frodo saved all of Middle Earth and therefore many, many not real people got to live out their not real lives to a ripe, not real old age.  He also inadvertently murdered millions of innocent, stinky, not real, stinky orcs! (Skip to 4:43 and you will see what i mean.  The earth just swallows them up!)  This guys a class act, and he’s only like 3 feet tall so it took him like twice as long to get into Mordor as it would a normal person.  Still not convinced?  Well, let me hit you with some logicknowledge!  The green lantern is a super hero because he has a magical artifact that gives him special abilities and uses these abilities to battle evil.  Frodo has several magical artifacts that give him several special abilities, like his glowing sword, magic troll proof armor and that bottle thing that lights up that the crazy elf lady gave him.

Yeah! That's the one!

Oh, and his weakness?  Like almost everything.  Including Lembas Bread.

Harry Potter

Looks like he's lost some weight...

Talkin bout tormented past?  This dude got it.  Talkin bout magical powers?  You better not piss him off, or prepare to be inflated like a fat british balloon, bitch.  Talkin about horrifying scar?  Check the lightning bolt, homes.  Talkin about shaft?  Yeah, I can dig it.  This dude has it all: sidekicks, secret powers and an awesome nemesis: He Who Must Not Be Named.  Voldemort.  Voldemort is scary because he looks like a snake demon without a nose and is played by Ralph Fiennes, who is a scary dude.  And yet harry defeats him in almost every single book.  Harry also has only seven books written about him, but somehow 8 movies.  If that isn’t magic, I don’t know what magic is.

Weaknesses?  Gingers.  And asian chicks.


I mean... look at this guy! He probably murders woodland creatures in his spare time, because he can.

Pop quiz: What’s cooler than vikings?  Answer: Not much.  Which viking god is the most awesome/powerful/badass out of all of them?  Answer: Thor.  Thor is what harry potter would be if Daniel Radcliffe showed up the the set of Deathly Hallows Part 2 completely drunk from a night in the mead hall, swinging a fucking magical warhammer and downing buckets full of steroids.

Speaking of Harry Potter, Thor would have taken like two seconds to kill Voldemort.  Priori Incantatum?  Try yourfacey hammershamshum!   If the Council of the Ring had asked Thor to carry the ring to Mt.Doom, Thor would have just laughed derisively and smashed it’s atoms apart with one swing of his hammer.  And then killed the whole council because he can.

"Oh shit! Thor's coming? Let's fuckin' book!"

Weaknesses?  Pissing off his dad and getting grounded.  That’s pretty much it, but it lends itself to more interesting stories than Kryptonite.

Super King

Bite his super metal ass!

Superking has all the powers of a king, plus the powers of superman.  Also, he’s a robot.  Super king first appeared in the Futurama season 4 episode “Less Than Hero” as part of the super group “The New Justice Team.”  He is super strong and his arms can extend and retract at will.  Jealous, Ron Weasly?

ron weasly broken wand

"My arms don't extend! And me wand broke!"

DEAL WITH IT.  Weaknesses?  Rust.



If the world were to end in a horrible nuclear destruction fiesta of doom, three things would survive: cockroaches, twinkies and fuckin Gumby.  Gumby is the nigh indestructible guy gal eunuch monster from The Gumby Show.  Gumby is super stretchy.  I mean super stretchy.  Gumby could stretch you into oblivion if he so desired.  And he does.  Gumby famously battles the blockheads, and always wins because of his unnatural stretchiness.  But as Peter Parker’s soon to be dead uncle, Yoda, once said “With great stretchiness comes great responsibility!”  Gumby, realizing this, became a hero instead of the stretchy death machine he could have so easily become..  But those eyes.  Those red eyes

dark eyes

And remeber: Gumby's watching you...

Weaknesses?  I think he’s made of clay… so water, I guess.  Oh, and probably acid.

Concerning Harry Potter and the Houses of Hogwarts

So incase you have been living in Antarctica, outer space, or on a small and isolated island in the south pacific, you’ve probably heard of this Harry Potter character and his magical school of Hogwarts, a name that at first delighted my 10 year old sensibilities and then later evolved to be commonplace in todays normal wizarding vernacular.  After reading the first book, I waited expectantly in my living room on my 11th birthday for a letter from Hogwarts telling me that I was a wizard.  I knew of course that Harry Potter and his friends weren’t truly real, but… what if they were?  The possibilities were endless.

Some call me... Tim?

At Hogwarts, which i didn’t even get a thank you for applying letter from, the students are divided into four dormitory houses: Gryffindor, the obviously best one, Slytherin, the obviously worst one, and Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, the obviously who fucking cares? ones.  This sorting takes place on the students first day ever, during an elaborate ceremony where the prospective student has to sit on a stool in front of everyone with a comically old and oversized “sorting hat” that magically chooses a house for them.  It is said that students have at least a partial choice in the matter, but this is obviously not true.  If it were true, Slytherin would have around 30 die hard students in it, bound together by their singular hatred of Gryffindor, and Gryffindor would have everyone else.  And here’s why.

Author’s note: Im going to rate how each house does with points.  At then end will tally them up and decide which one is the best!  Wheeee!

House Descriptions: every house has representative characteristics that its students are meant to have.  Lets learn what they are.

Gryffindors are meant to have bravery, daring, nerve and chivalry.  Not bad attributes at all.  The knights of the Wizarding World. +10

This is what i got when i searched wizard knight. Awesome.

Hufflepuffs are patient, hard working, loyal and they enjoy to play fair.  It is also the most inclusive house, which means that it is the house for people who couldnt get in to any of the good ones.  Which means it’s the one to be avoided.  Plus, fair play?  Really? -5

This is what I got when I searched hufflepuff house members. Fascinating.

Ravenclaw values intelligence, wit and knowledge.  This initially doesnt seem that bad except that there are people like Hermoine Granger who are smarter, wittier and more knowledgeable than all of the Ravenclaws and are in Gryffindor.  This relegates Ravenclaw to the “nerd” house, comprised mostly of people who only identify themselves as “intelligent, knowledgeable and witty,” and therefore never are. +1

Revenge of the Ravenclaws, as it were.

Lastly we have Slytherin, the house that likes ambitiousness, cunning and resourcefulness.  This is clearly the second best choice after Gryffindor, maybe tied for first at this point, simply because people like Julius Caesar and Alexander the Great could have easily ended up in Slytherin.  Plus dark wizards abound, which is sweet.  +10

Slytherin's founder, Sauron Slytherin.

But here’s the catch: they could also end up in Gryffindor.  Gryffindor inst really for brave people, in the same way the other houses aren’t really for the attributes they advertise.  I’ve made a list of how the sorting actually works.

Gryffindor: Gryffindor is for the best/funniest/smartest/most athletic/most important/most popular/most famous people in the school.


Hufflepuff: Come here if you are a moron who lacks character depth and exists only to die horribly as a warning for Gryffindors to not go there or refrain from touching that.

Ravenclaw: go here if you never want to be heard from ever again, for no other reason than you are boring.  Or if you are Luna I suppose…

Slytherin: if you are a sneaky asshole/cheater/douche bag for no reason, then this is the house for you.  You are also allowed to join this house if you hate Gryffindor because you didn’t get in.

Now, by using this new and improved list, it is apparent that Gryffindor is in the best choice, but maybe the actual living places of each house will sway the vote. I doubt it.

Hufflepuff: Do you enjoy living in a fucking basement right next to the always busy and ever noisy kitchen of your school?  Good, because that is where you end up if you are in Hufflepuff!  Did I mention the kitchen staff is comprised entirely of magical slaves?  No?  Hmmm. -10

The hufflepuff common room

Slytherin: Did you like Hufflepuff?  Then you are going to love slytherin, whose housing is similar except that instead of a cozy basement you will be living in  a horrible dungeon!  What better place to foster your ever growing hatred for Gryffindor and their awful do-goodery?  Answer: No where! -10

this is actually what it looks like

Ravenclaw:  Do you like having to answer confusing, bass ackwards riddles in order to enter your room after a long night of studying or a fun time at the three broomsticks?  Good!  Then you will love Racenclaws retarded way of getting into your room.  Instead of a password like the other houses have or, I don’t know, having some sort of magic that can just detect if you are in fact a member of the house you are trying to enter, the Ravenclaw gatekeeper asks you a fucking riddle because hey, only Ravenclaws can solve riddles.  Ever.  I couldn’t find many descriptions of the Ravenclaw common room but i’m sure they sit on spikes or something equally as dumb as their “password.” -10

Cause you'll never get enough riddles right.

Gryffindor:  Do you enjoy plush towers with fantastic windows and incredible views of pretty much everything?  Do you like awesome four post beds?  How about cozy fireplaces and happiness/friendship?  Then you’ll love the Gryffindor common room!  Situated in a badass tower far from the plebeians of the other houses and guarded by an awesome painting who asks you a silly password for admittance, why wouldn’t you want to live here? +10,000


Still not convinced Gryffindor is the best?  Fine lets just check out the animals associated with the houses.

Gryffindor: lion.  Lions are awesome. +10

Ravenclaw:…an Eagle.  With claws.  I thought it was a raven with claws, but turns out it’s an Eagle, thank you the last muggle to read harry potter.  I still think a crow would have been better, but i didn’t write the book., or i would be really, really rich.  But Eagles are sweet, so +10 for Ravenclaw.

Slytherin: a snake.  Awesome/slightly insulting.+15 – 5 = 10

Hufflepuff: a badger.  Oh hufflepuff.  You were so close to greatness.  In case you dont know, the Honey Badger (it’s number one on the list) is the most badass animal in the history of ever because it simply doesn’t care about anything.  Besides killing and eating I guess. +1

I think there is no clear winner in this category, but there is a clear loser.  Step up and take your prize, Ravenclaw.

Alright!  It’s score time!



And coming in last place with a combined score of -14 is Hufflepuff

In third is ravenclaw with a respectable 1.

In second place, with a respectable score of 10 is the great Slytherin house!

And coming in first with a score of 10,020 is, of course, Gryffindor!  Yay for them…

I mean who didn’t see that one coming?  Almost all of the main characters in the stories are in Gryffindor.  And almost all the bad ones are in Slytherin.  And all of the irrelevant ones are in he other two.  Honestly, if i got on Pottermore and got sorted into Hufflepuff I would just fucking quit.


Since camp ended a long, long week ago, I have become somewhat of a lay-about and a wastrel, doing nothing apart from endlessly watching Futurama, pwning in Black Ops and perfomring frenzied bouts of studying for the GRE.  Oh, and going to the gym.

I go to the gym by means of my free trial card that was acquired in a shady place by even shadier methods.

It looked something like this

I’ll head once again to University in 2 weeks and I didn’t see any point in purchasing a membership, so I just “found” one.  You’d be suprised to learn how often things that one wants just “turn up” when one is sufficiently threatening in dark alleys.  Almost all the time, as it turns out.

Anyway, this gym is called “lifestyle,” a name that I loath.  It’s one of those feel good names that implies that merely going here will change your life for the better.  This gym isn’t just a building with stuff in it!  It’s a way of life.  And that’s exactly how it behaves on the inside too.  The lifestyle logo is plastered everywhere one can look, and fit and smiling employees are always walking around in their red polos trying to be so damn helpful.  It’s depressing.  They even have their own T.V. channel which plays upbeat music videos and gives needlessly vague advice on exercising like “lift weights to build muscle,” or “running on a treadmill burns fat!”  All it needs is Ben Stiller glaring menacingly down at you, pointing and shouting like in Globo Gym from dodgeball.

Nice work, fatty!

Despite the fancy interior and happy trainers, Lifestyle is plagued by one of the biggest problems in the gym world: naked old men lounging about provocatively in the men’s locker room.  Whether they have just taken a shower and are catching their breath until the put their clothes on or they just enjoy being naked is unclear.  What is clear is that they are indeed quite naked, and they are just daring you to look.  I don’t know if old women do this, but I certainly hope not.  The minute you walk in you are assaulted by the combined force of 20 hateful, naked stares as all the old guys in the room simultaneously turn and glare at you.  Gymnasium literally means “the place of most nakedness,” after all.


“Go ahead.” They seem to say.  “Look at us.  Look at us and witness your doom.”  And much like a train wreck, it is impossible to not look.  It just happens.  Today, I went into the locker room to deposit my bag of stuff in my favorite locker (it’s number 133, which is most of the word 1337).  I had just placed my bag inside and shut the locker door when BOOM!  Naked old guy.  He was standing just behind the spot where the now shut locker door was.  I jumped back with a start, half from fear and half from astonishment.

“Dear god!  But… but you weren’t there 8 seconds ago when I opened the door!”

“Indeed,” he said mischievously as he put his hands on his hips.  “Indeed I wasn’t.”

“Ah”, I said, which came out more as a strangled yelp as the old guy advanced a step and I slowly backed toward the exit.  “Well done then.  I mean, that was quite fast for someone your… uhh… age.  I doubt even Usain Bolt could have snuck up on me that fast.  HAHA!  Erm…. must be going now… uh… bye.”  I sprinted to the door and collided with another old guy who was just entering.  He was clothed.  For the moment, at least.

“Oh, sorry.” I said as I helped him up.

“Has it started yet?” he asked hopefully.

“Has… what?”

“The nakedness, you damn fool!  Has it started?”

“Um… yes… just in there.  If you would excuse me…” I said as I sidled around him and then dashed to the elliptical.  The last thing i heard from him was a disturbing cackle and the closing of a door.

The Elliptical is one of my favorite cardio machines ever.  Most other cardio machines are designed to remind me how out of shape I have become.  On the treadmill I struggle to keep up with the floor that is always moving slightly too fast under me.  On stationary bikes i struggle to keep my RPM’s higher than my age.  On the Elliptical, I am a GOD.  I simply crush calories on it, and without even breaking much of a sweat!

“I can’t believe this is exercising,” I always say to people who happen to be in earshot.  “See those poor chaps on the treadmills?  Bet they can’t even breathe right now, where as I, if I so wished, could be reading a book!  Or even yodeling!  This is just brilliant!”  They always nod and smile awkwardly and then search the room for a machine not in the immediate area of me.  But I don’t care.  At least I’m not actually running.

Ellipticals, ive been told, were invented in the 90’s so people with bad joints could still “run.”  I’ve often thought that Ellipticals should have been invented with a scoreboard, like in arcade games.  They were invented in the 90’s after all.  Other stuff in the gym should have high scores too.  I think this would give gamers and their ilk much more reason to work out if they could win at it.

Congratulations! You win at the bench press!

“You see that bench there?” they could ask their friends.  “I got a 126560 on it once.  Beat that!”

And, when you really get down to it, isn’t that what they gym is about anyway?  Well, that and avoiding naked old guys in the locker room…

It couldn’t stay buried forever forever forever

In lieu of posting anything new, though I am working on some stuff, I’ve decided to do my last repost from my old blog.  I wrote this in 2010 during the men’s world cup.  It was pretty much my first post like the ones I post now, with pictures and everything.  Hope you like it.

Power Leg(s)!

In anticipation of the World cup, my roommate and I have been, as we call it, practicing soccer, or, as onlookers call it, flailing about like idiots. It has been a wonderful way to spend my afternoons, apart for the swarms of gnats that seem to think my head is an all you can land buffet. It isnt. Unfortunately, I have recently come down with a self diagnosed condition I like to call “Soccer leg.” Since I am right footed, my right leg has been infused with incredible power while my left leg has resigned itself to wither away in disuse. The problems with this are twofold: firstly, my right leg is slightly larger and more buff than my left and scientists speculate that if the current trend continues my right leg will continue its unparalleled growth and, I fear, end up absorbing my left leg, much like a fratricidal twin in the womb, and I will be left with one all-powerful Gargantuleg. Secondly, as I discovered today whilst running, the extra use that has given my right leg it’s strength also weakens it after a soccer practice, and around a mile into my run I found myself with an over-exerted right leg. This was my left legs chance! It desperately wanted me to press on, but sadly for me (and for my left leg) all I could manage was a swift hobble, which is slower than a lethargic stroll. All seemed lost. It was not however a total waste, for my slowness of pace did allow me to take note of my fellow “runners” and I, like any insane person would have done, began to categorize them into several Archetypes, 5 of which i will display now.

The Running Archetypes
A study by Charles Brock
1. Fat Woman With Dog
The first person one sees on a running path is always a fat woman. With a dog. They seem to congregate around the beginning of paths and never stray father than the middle. Pink of face and heavy of step, these woman are oft found with comically large water bottles and are always in some sort of pink exercise attire, most likely bought at the same store. Why they have the dog is a mystery to me. It’s not like they are taking a stroll down MLK blvd or the DMZ between the two Koreas. What use is a dog? The dogs themselves are seldom terrifying, or even worrisome. Their stature could best be described as bite-sized. I began to think that every obese woman just naturally brought a dog everywhere they went, be it walking on a path, McDonald’s, surgery or any number of other activities. But then I became aware of some fat women heading towards me with no dogs at all. This puzzled me for quite some time, because i seemed to remember that these women used to have dogs. Where could they have gone? And then I realized that the main difference between obese women with and without dogs wasn’t something tangible, it was merely a matter of time. For you see, they headed down the trail with their furry friends in tow, yet they returned with nothing but full(er) bellies. They had been eaten!
2. The Inexplicable Children
The inexplicable children are possibly the most baffling archetype of all. They are simply kids, wandering about on the running trail for no reason whatsoever, and doing nothing apart from being bothersome. If someone tripped over a child they could seriously injure themselves! These kids are just wandering about with no supervision whatsoever, getting in everyone’s way. I mean, who fucking does that?? Who lets their kids wander around a running path by a busy road?? If I were a child molester, my job (hobby?) would have been made laughably easy by these inept parents. They would take to being kidnapped like daisies to a plucking…
Moreover, who are these children? Where did they come from? Where are their parents? Why are they galavanting about on a running path? The answer to these questions, however, lie in the same place as the answers to the questions of Lost: nowhere.
“You mean you actually watched the whole thing? LOL!”
3. Bike Guy
The second most feared archetype in the outdoor fitness world, this guy doesn’t give a damn about anyone or anything except biking and pissing people off. He will run you down as if you were the little kid in gladiator and not even think twice about it, and there is no Russel Crowe to exact revenge for you (probably). For some reason he prefers to bike on paths too narrow to pass obese walking dog ladies, or even regular runners/strollers/squirrels/anything. And yet he does pass…with a vengeance. Most often when bikes are coming up on you, you hear the clank of metal or the bike chain or something, but not when this asshole approaches. When this guy comes up on you, you’ll only know it by a whoosh of air to your left, an unexplainable bike which has just appeared 20 meters in front of you and is receding at a breakneck speed, and a vague feeling that you should be dead but have somehow narrowly avoided your fate. Since I didn’t have my scanner with me I couldn’t get an accurate reading when a bike guy passed by me today, but his power level must have been somewhere in the range of 9000!
But there was no way that could be right…
4. Out of Place Couple
Most people come outside to exercise, but not these guys. Normally a middle aged husband and wife, these people may not be burning the calories, but they like to pretend that they are. They dress up in sporting paraphernalia and have water bottles, so they areexercising, right? They often wander side to side on the path in unpredictable patterns that can be hazardous to other trail users.
5. The Silver Bullet
The most feared man in the running world, the silver bullet is indeed a force to be reckoned with. He is faster than many runners will ever be in their prime, and the dude is 90 something years old! Like the bike guy, the only thing keeping the silver bullet alive is the constant movement and endorphin rush of running, and run he does. Faster than the dreaded Cassowary, the silver bullet can even reach speeds fast enough to travel back in time! Who could make it so that you were never born. Or he could be your father. Perhaps he is everyone’s father. Who can know except for him? Some even attribute near magical powers to him, akin to the force. Be afraid.

“Skateboarding on my sidewalk, you young rascals? FEEL MY RAGE!”

The frozen pinkies

First off I would like to thank everyone who takes time out of their busy schedule to read my blog posts.  I have fun writing them and I’m glad  that other people enjoy them.  And for those of you who don’t take time out of your busy schedule to read my blog… by merit of reading this you just joined the other group.  Congratulations!  You will be spared.

Secondly, I’ve changed the layout of my blog a lot.  I’ve got a new theme, and fancy new side bars where you can like me on facebook and subscribe via email if you so wish.  And you do wish to.  I can tell.  Do it.  Now.

Second off, here’s the actual post:

The Frozen Pinkys

We have a science lady at camp named Kara who runs the Science club and other science related activities.  That’s why I called her a science lady.  Kara has honduran milk snake that she keeps in a terrarium in the room and is, or course, either of infinite fascination to the campers or a creature from the stygian depths of their darkest nightmares. Incidentally, these are the only two opinions people ever have of snakes: they either love snakes or they hate them.  No one ever says “Snakes?  Those things are boring.”  I think those people died out thousands of years ago, because snakes above all things hate to be ignored.

Honduran milk snakes, though they look kind of like the dreaded coral snake, are not venomous and are apparently quite good with kids.  More’s the pity, I say.  I think a good ol’ venomous bite from a reptile is just the sort of thing some of these kids need to set them on the straight and narrow.  It’s good for your character.

Pictured: Character growth

Anyway, snakes, like all living things, need to eat stuff.  “And what is it snakes eat?” you’re probably asking yourself.  Well, stop interrupting, I was about to tell you.  Snakes eat frozen pinkys.  If you are anything like me, when you hear the word pinky you either think of your smallest finger on your hand or the  lovable cartoon mouse from the classic 90’s show Pinky and the Brain.  That pinky looks like this:

How adorable!

The frozen pinkys look like this:


Can you spot the difference?  It’s easy: the frozen pinkys are more pink.  Hence the hillarious name.  Oh… and they look like unborn fetuses.  But don’t worry, you don’t actually have to touch frozen pinkys.  They come in handy little cigarette style boxes designed for easy dumping, though the mere knowledge of their existence will weigh heavily on your soul for years to come if you were to ever come into contact with them.  I’m told, however, that snakes love the things; they think they’re popcorn chicken or something.

Possibly the most disturbingly obvious part of frozen pinkies is that you must keep them frozen.  This wouldn’t present in problem in a zoo or the Slytherin common room, where I’m sure there are literally tons of the things secreted in special frozen pinky freezers.  But where do regular, non zoo keeper/dark wizard people like Kevin James and Kara keep their pinkys?  The answer: a normal freezer, right beside the popsicles.  Sometimes even lying horribly in wait among the popsicles!   A tasty surprise indeed.

You sick bastard

There is something fundamentally wrong about keeping frozen pinkys in the same place that you keep normal food.  I wonder how many frozen pinky owners have inadvertently had a late night snack of frozen pinkys instead of the klondike bars they were oh so hungrily reaching for?

Judging from his face, it looks like the answer is at least one.

Sports Club: The Thunderdome

At my camp, the children are allowed to participate in clubs.  These clubs are chosen for the morning and afternoon separately on a weekly basis.  There are many good clubs, but the best is morning Sports Club.  Morning Sports Club is the perfect blending of fun for the campers, who compete against one another in games, and counselors, who coach teams, make trades and scream futilely at first graders who still don’t know which direction to run around the bases.  At the beginning of every week the children are forced by CJ, the man in charge of Sports Club onto different teams and then to choose a country that their team will represent, much to that country’s chagrin.  Countries are normally chosen by obscurity; the more obscure the better.  Albania, for instance, was a much lauded choice.

Since this is the last week of camp, us coaches had a draft where we got to choose 3 players and since I am a WINNER I got first pick.  Naturally I picked Carl, the best kid there and continued choosing in that manner untill i had a fully loaded awesome team of victory.

Pictured: My team

All the other coaches chose in a similar fashion.  Well… most of the other coaches, at least.  My friend Arthur, who was in Sports Club merely to substitute for another coach, Benjiman, decided that it would be far more amusing to choose a horrible team instead of a good one.  It wasn’t his team, after all.

“Hey charles, who are the worst/dumbest kids in your camp group?  ‘Cause Ineed them on my team.”  He asked under his breath as he sidled up to me. I told him.  He picked them, and created the single worst team to ever compete in sports club.

Pictured: Arthur's Team

To add insult to injury, Arthur made sure that his team sat down and was quiet first so that he could choose his first opponent.  Naturally, he chose me and my super team, laughing all the while.  And so we headed off to the big gym to play soccer.

“We should sit here,” said Arthur, pointing to a spot behind one of the goals.  “You guys will be coming this way, so we will get to see all of the good shots if we sit behind my goal.”  I nodded my head greedily.  The spectacle would indeed be… delicious.  We pulled our chairs over and awaited the start eagerly.

Nothing happened.

“Um… go.” Arthur shouted, and thus a game that will surely be recorded in the annals of camp history and retold for generations to come began.  My team, of course, immediately stole the ball from Arthur’s team and went down the field to score, thanks to a rousing display from Carl.

“Ha HA!” i shouted in triumph.  Arthur nodded approvingly and we both had a good laugh.  We looked over to the far side of the gym where Timmy, one of Arthur’s more stupid team members, was wandering about aimlessly, talking to the colored squares on the basketball court.  Ocassionally he would fall on the ground and roll.  We laughed even harder

“I say!” I said, “This match has proven to be quite the distraction from an otherwise boring monday!”

“Quite so!” chortled arthur as he took out a bag of cheetos to share with me.  I normally dont eat cheetos.  Something about them creeps me out.  Maybe it’s the putrid orange color or the way they stain your hands but hey, it was a special occasion after all.  We dug in.

While we were laughing and eating and laughing some more the ball was steadily making it’s way toward my side of the pitch, but I wasn’t worried.  I had cleverly placed one of the oldest and most powerful kids at camp, Buca, in goal and held no doubts that he would successfully defend it.  One of his foolish opponents took a feeble shot at goal, which was promptly scooped up by a derisively laughing Buca and then thrown down the field.  And that’s when it all went to hell.

The ball soared right to the feet of a puny player from the other team who flailed at it wildly.  One of his spasmodic hits struck true and the ball plowed through our goal.  The gym  was as silent as death, apart from the sound of a bag of cheetos and two jaws dropping to the floor.

Pictured: Me and arthur....if we were aliens....

“Arthur…what just happened?” I asked, quivering with fear as i rose from my seat and took a few steps forward.

“A goal!” he laughed at me.  I spun on him angrily

“What?  There’s no way that can be right!”

If you get this you rock

And yet it was right.  What happened next could only be described as a total rout.  The up till then disheartened and defeated team of stupids rallied with a vengeance, scoring goal after goal.  Granted, most of these goals were due to my campers not being soccer players and messing up.  Teddy, one of my players, for instance was going to block a ball, but miscalculated the angle and ended up passing it perfectly to an enemy standing right in front of an undefended goal.  He scored.  Robert accidentally passed the ball to a stupid standing right in front of an undefended goal.  He scored.  Billy did a bad header and passed the ball to a opponent standing… you guessed it… right in fucking front of the goal.  He scored.

Arthur continued to laugh his ass off.  I, however, had clamped my mouth into a terrible grimace of anger mixed with revulsion, sprinkled with a little bit of hate and topped off with a cool serving of despair.

It looked somewhat like this

I shouted.  I screamed.  I ran up and down the pitch throwing chairs and children about like the incredible hulk rampaging in a daycare.  I banged my head against the wall.  I prayed.  It was all for naught, for Arthur’s team was still in the lead.  He stayed there too, all the while sitting in his chair, laughing and laughing and laughing as the world crumbled about me, heedless of my protest.

It turns out winning at sports club mattered a lot more to me than i had previously thought.  I assumed that this is because whenever i play sports, i lose.  It’s a bad habit I’ve never been able to shake.  Even though I am incapable of winning,  I can live vicariously through my campers winning at a sports league.  I won last week.  But as the game ended in a 6-4 victory for the cast of the replacements, I clearly say the writing on the wall.  I was doomed.

But such is the fate of those who dare enter the gauntlet of…


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