Thursday, June 23, 2011

P365 Day 3 and also venting about rage

I'm basically going to post a slightly altered version of what I said about the facebook picture, and then I will rant about things that beckon forth hate from my soul because RAGE.
Day 3
-Southpark Meadows with some friends.
-Gay Best Friend and I split off from the group and went bracelet shopping. The day was filled with trying on clothes, Gattitown and Taco bell (pronounced t'COH-bell.)
-This is not the outfit I wore most of the day. It's more like the one I wish I had been wearing. I found my scrunchy face quite amusing.

Now, on to the real post:

Venting About Rage

Hate Focus 1: Exes that don't leave you alone

...will add more later

Added 2 hours ago ·  · 

Stefan Plays Frisbee Golf- P365 day 2

Day 2
I was randomly invited to play Frisbee Golf at in the morning. I learned that I do not know my friend's little brother well enough to hold a conversation with him, despite having known him for several years, which would have not been that big a deal if we weren't on a team. I also learned that  Jeans make me unable to do things athletically, and that I have no idea how to interact with my friend's older friend who apparently does nothing but play Frisbee Golf and earn money by CAD drafting....I honestly can't imagine how he managed to meet my friend, either...

Friend and Friend's Friend chasing frisbees. Note Friend's Friend's man purse. It is made specifically for carrying frisbees.... Then again I just put mine in my bag and got my camera and phone all muddy...

My can't tell, but it didn't land very far from the starting place thing that I threw it from...:(
That thing waaaaay off in the distance is the goal. I did not make it. :(
Friend's Friend. Also I believe that's my frisbee right there not too far away from the goal. It was actually a decent throw, apparently, but you wouldn't know it from how everyone kept saying "good throw" in that way that people who are unacquainted but want to be encouraging to the obvious failure as well as polite. I know his intentions were good, but I feel like Sir Frisbee-Drafter could have tried to engage me a little more socially.

That is my frisbee in the fucking basket. As far as frisbee golf, my life is complete and I can now die in regard to frisbee golf. I actually said that in front of Friend, and we had this needlessly complicated conversation about how to die in regard to such a specific aspect of life. We determined that you would stop acknowledging its existence and pretend like your friends who "believed in it" were completely insane. Seriously though, I was really fucking excited. I felt that I had accomplished something for the day. :D

I think this was supposed to be a shot of my frisbee, which failed into the bushes. You can probably see it if you click the picture.
Friend. He was prompted to "act like he was throwing a frisbee"...and this is what he came up with. So the official caption is: "Friend fails at following photo prompts."

This is friend in the throes of actually throwing a frisbee. Shortly after this we went to Chick-Fil-A, where I learned the joys of eating breakfast at a real Chick-Fil-A and not just a shittastic college campus Chick-Fil-A. They have this wonderful thing called a "Chicken, Egg and Cheese Bagel"'s made of sin...and is possibly the best thing I've eaten for breakfast since...well, I don't know about that. But I enjoyed it. It was a very good day over all and I will probably be playing Frisbee Golf again, but I hope to do it with people I can hold a conversation with. Possibly with Friend and Gay Best Friend.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011


To my like...3 readers: I've decided that to get me into the habit of posting, writing, and generally getting my lazy ass out of bed every day, I'm going to do this thing called Project 365. Many of your friends have probably done/are doing some version of this project (I know tons of mine are), and all information on the version I will be using can be found here.

Basically you take one photo a day...and then awesome things happen. I will also be doing this on Facebook, where I will be writing short descriptions of the day. On here I will attempt to include actual blog posts, no matter how relevant they are to the actual picture. So my question is: WILL YOU COME WITH ME ON THIS ADVENTURE!? Well, since I have, like I said before, only 3-ish confirmed readers, all of whom I know in person, I'm assuming they will be following along to be supportive, no matter how drab they find my rantings about life.

The first photo will be added shortly.


This is the one that I ended up posting on facebook for day 1. I chose it because it illustrates the fundamental problem that I have with photography. When I get myself to actually look good for a potential shot, I end up fucking up the actual shot, which makes everything all fuzzy or bad in some other way. 
So basically here is what happened today and a bit of yesterday: My hair has been relayered, and my super awesome, gay friend whose name shall be changed to Cameron for the purposes of this blog got to see the debut of it...of course yesterday it looked horrible because I neglected to blowdry it, but it looks good today I guess. Today I started this photo thing, and then also my grandfather had me fix a computer problem which I am convinced didn't really exist. I'm pretty sure that what actually happened was that he freaked out because a button was a different color or something and called tech support, and then he had no idea what they were talking about, so nothing could be done until someone who understood complicated technobabble such as "start button" and "mouse" and "web browser" was summoned. Currently I'm listening to Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne and contemplating what I should do today. I should be working on the show I'm supposed to have done by the fall. I'm also hungry...perhaps I should get food. 

Here are some of the other candidates for Project 365: Day 1
Here's me trying to do another mirror shot while actually looking at the camera, however it makes me look like I've just been outed as having really smelly feet or having slept with some damnably gross person. 

This one did not make the cut because my hair decided to make me look like I was dreadfully pissed off. I was not, hair. Stop lying to the camera.

I don't know, my face looks weird in this one I think.

I mostly look penniless and dead in this one...

Same problem with the shot-fuzz problem, also I look like I'm about to eat the photographer, and since I took this picture I am not really down with this prospect.

Once again, my face looks weird.

This shot is so blurry that you can barely tell what's happening here! :(

Monday, June 13, 2011


I decided to re-draw that random comic thing in this post, but in pen and stuff...and actually (somewhat) good...

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Momma likes her some Potato chips with a capital "P"

So, my mother (whose blog may be viewed here) and I have decided to post corresponding blog posts about each other (and by "corresponding" I mean "posted at the same time").

As such, I will attempt to summarize my mother and my relationship with her in a series of various whimsies.

Whimsy #1: Comparative Psychological Analyses

If one were to compare my mother and I side by side, it would be pretty obvious that she was my mother. We have the same nose, the same eye shape, the same vocal tones, the same tendency to bitch when we don't get our way, roughly the same speech patterns.

However, there are differences in our personalities which come out when we interact.

I feel that the most obvious of these is her belief in a global concept of Justice (note the capital J), however she refuses to understand that Italy has "Iustitia" with a capital "I", whereas I support the existence of both "justice" and "iustitia", neither using capital letters.

Here is an example:

Note the AK-47 spear. You may have to click the image to read what the tv is saying

Whimsy #2: When attempt to shop together, we end up in Narnia

The other day we went to Wal*Mart to pick up some contrived thing, I don't remember what it was. I proceeded to follow my mother, I assumed she that she knew where she was going, because she was the one picking things up. About twenty minutes later we noticed that it was significantly colder, and many of the storegoers around us happened to be talking animals.

As it turned out, she was following me because I apparently knew where I was going, but I was following her. The result: Narnia.

Wimsy #3: The duo was very active even at an early age.

When I was very young, my mother and I obsessively played a game called "Banjo Kazooie".
During the summer our day consisted of me waking up at the crack of Dawn and going to wake my mother, who would inquire something along the lines of "What the fuck? What time is it?" To this I would respond, with an ironically straight face "Banjo Kazooie".

Instantaneously spellbound by the utterance of the two words which bound her comologically to the will of the Nintendo® Corporation, she would roll out of bed and lumber sleepily to the television, where I would have likely turned on the game already. One of us would begin playing while the other fetched a large glass bowl and a bag of barbecue potato chips. From dawn till dusk we would instruct an anthropomorphic bear and his tropical squackbox lady friend to perform various tasks inside the lair of a nice old evil witch who only wanted to steal the bear's sister's youth.

One day we actually ran out of potato what did we do? We paused the game, left all the lights on, possibly even left the refrigerator door open, hopped in the car and SPED to the store to buy more chips.
The following is what the note on the floor reads:

I was pretty much raised to be a nerd from birth.

I had planned for many more Whimsies, and may I'll add some later. Pictures will be added tomorrow.
In the meantime I leave you with this:
Your mother likely kept you from watching "bad shows" by forbidding it. Mine unknowingly kept me from doing so for a long ass time by saying she didn't give a rat's ass what I watched so long as I didn't act an ass in public. Win.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

When I have children, they are GOING to practice hygiene or suffer on pain of death.

I was going to write a post about some of the ridiculousness that happened at the children's theatre camp I've been volunteering at for the past week, but instead I'm going to write a post complaining about how those stupid fucking sacks of pathogen and mucus gave me some horrible thing that has convinced me that my limbs and most of my face are going to fall off.

Last night I passed out pretty much right after I ate, which was...some really early six or seven in the evening. What seemed to my screaming body to be five minutes later, I awoke to a clock which obnoxiously read "1:55AM".

I knew something was wrong because I awoke fully clothed and I had left the temperature in the room higher from leaving for the day when I normally turn it down after coming home. This is how I came to the conclusion that I was probably sick. My dying immune system decided that I needed soup and juice more than anything on the planet.

I opted to follow the orders given to me by my body because if I didn't it would probably retaliate by making me keel over and die.

...So there I the kitchen at 3 AM...making soup.

From there I decided I should watch FLCL, which generally makes all the problems in the world go away.

Then after that I watched "The Dark Crystal", and almost died of a nostalgia-exacerbated version of my illness (which by this point I suspected was some sort of Soul Ulcer).

After that I watched a few episodes of Southpark until I passed out. Over the course of these episodes I got to thinking the following:

"I should go outside and run. I'll make a playlist for running and everything. It'll be awesome. All my friends who run love it, and I love me some endorphins. If I go right now while it's pitch black outside nobody will see me!" ...but then I thought about what might happen if I went out to run in my current condition.

And then I woke up this morning half way wishing I had died overnight, so that I would not have to experience the horror of seeing my face in the mirror.

All I knew by the end of this horrible experience was that I needed an army of Garthim at any cost. That way I could keep any snot-nosed, pathogen-spewing germ-bags away from my normally resilient immune system.

Because children are cesspools of horrid germ-breeding that produce new, unidentified freak-strains of horribly warped diseases that science cannot conquer, and thus only the primeval sorceries of soup and juice can be of any use.