Friday, September 24, 2010

I had a beer with lunch and now can't think of a title

There have been immeasurable (1) calls for an update, so here it be. Let us classify this as a life update rather than a funny/offensive op ed piece. The reason for my non-bloggitude as of late has been, for those who do not know, that I have returned to school for a rather intense program. Consequently, I will not be blogging with the same frequency or read/comment on my followed blogs for the time being. I know that we're all special snowflakes that deserve all the love and attention in this here blogosphere, but it's just beyond my temporal means at the moment. Selfish, perhaps, but what blogging isn't?

Yep, I call my posts pieces. What…a dickbag.

Future Roommate has gone the way of countless pop stars before her and dropped the 'Future' from her name. In other words, she is now my full-blown roomie. As far as the adjustment from friend to friend-roommate, there have already been smiles and frowns, ups and downs but already I have grown accustomed to her face. While she does not (yet) make the day begin, I feel we've been doing pretty well at communicating needs and wants and she has not yet attempted to castrate me nor I deovarize her, so back pats all round.

Speaking of castration, there are a whole bunch fellow teacher candidates who I feel would benefit from this process. Okay, fine, I'd benefit from this process. Of their castration. Ugh, not blessed by the Witty Hatred Faerie today. Ooh, new tag! I will not list here the full list of homicide-inducing archetypes, but rather will give a top 3:

3. "I'm a teacher candidate who doesn't like getting up in front of a class"
Um, you fail. A lot. And hard. Also, speak the fuck up. Group project partners, this is directed at you. Do NOT get in front of a class of adult learners and say, "Hey, guys… guys?…we're gonna move on so if you'd just like to [flaps forearms in the air, presumably to represent 'quiet' but coming off more like retarded penguin]…"

2. "I'm a teacher candidate who is doing this as a second career and therefore know more about everything than you"
Hey, do you know anything about shutting the fuck up? Didn't think so. Maybe if these jackasses actually listened to the instructor instead of thinking about an answer based on not listening to instructor, they could actually participate productively instead of wasting my valuable-as-that-weird-ass-mineral-from-Avatar time. An instruction to "reflect personally first" does not mean turn to your neighbour and run your mouth off for 5 minutes before asking me in a condescending voice if I'd like to contribute anything. Here is my foot. I would like to contribute it up your ass.

1. "I'm a teacher candidate and I won't shut up about teaching in Korea"



Shut…the fuck…up.

Know who else has taught in Korea? 83% of the world, that's who. If I hear one more asshole (and they're always males) say, "So yeah, when I taught in Korea…" or talk about adding each other on Facebook so they can exchange kimchi recipes I AM GOING TO GO OFF. Kimchi tastes like pickles shit.

In other news, I had a two month thing with a Brazilian (cause I hate the white man) that ended in yet another "You're a great guy and I'd like to keep hanging out but just as friends, no kissing or anything like that anymore " talk.

Hey, Pele: what's Portuguese for "You're not interesting enough to be friends with while clothed"?

Reader Poll:
In the past year, David has cavorted around with a Macedonian, a Portuguese, an Albanian and a Brazilian. What ethnic group should he take up with next:

A) Rwandan
B) Peruvian
C) Latvian
D) None-of-the-above-cause-I'm-gonna-die-alone-and-unloved-ian
E) French

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Generalization Observed in Transit

If a woman gets on a bus, streetcar or subway with a baby stroller, chances are good that the child in that stroller was not planned.

If the woman is wearing a sweatshirt, hoodie or otherwise, the chance is doubled.

Times a million if she is wearing hoop earrings with a diameter exceeding 3 inches.

Poor People: Accidentally Procreating Since... Um, Forever.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Sassy New Career Change. SASSY.

I just got the urge to post something for the first time in a couple weeks, so regardless of the shit that flies out, we're just gonna ride this one through together. As a family.

Sometimes just writing down what's going on can replace the need for help from another person. There's some stuff that's been going down for the past week that I haven't told anyone about. It's not that I think my friends and family will judge me negatively or anything, but I just don't feel that any of them will understand what it means. For the most part, my loved ones are pretty squeaky clean. I mean, some of them even think that pot is wrong; they have no concept of how addiction works and that stopping is as simple as flipping a switch. Still, this thing has been taking up so much of my time and energy and I'm getting scared of what might happen when I run out so I just need to hurl this admission into the internet universe and hope that something will help me, free me from its grasp:

I am addicted to Intervention.

It started simply enough. I'd heard about it for years, often when some Hollywood celebrity would talk about their experiences as a viewer, but I never thought that the junk would have any appeal to me. Then on a whim and two glasses of red last Monday I decided to watch an episode and after just one hour I was hooked. I couldn't get enough. As I watched more and more, I got a sick satisfaction from simultaneously drinking a vodka gimlet. In the first 24 hour period alone, I watched 9 episodes. These were really recent and easy to score, but after those were all watched, I just wanted more. I combed my usual video streaming websites like the dope fiends I craved in the hopes of finding some random sexually molested fuck up and their family cry for an hour...and allowing me to do the same. I don't think I even enjoy it at this point; it's more just a craving and I get really pissed off when the addiction is too common. "Oh fuck, not another heroin addict, Jesus..."

I need an Intervention intervention.

Otherwise, it's gonna get nasty, people. I almost want to develop an addiction just so I can be intervened upon by Candy Finnigan. As previously stated, addiction to prescription meds is for dicks, but I wouldn't mind a little alcoholism or coke habit. Something classy. On Intervention, the subject never knows that there's going to be an intervention; they just think they're in a documentary about addiction. Not the brightest bulbs smashed to liquefy meth on, these ones. As a bonus, I would totally lose my shit when I walked into the room and discovered what was going on. I'd be all "Oh helllllllllllllll naw!" and then run/wheeze away while the slightly obese camera man jiggled along beside me. I might even hit him. Cause I'm sassy.

BUT THEN (ooh, sorry, that got shouty. I'll calm down.) But then, I'd go to treatment and reform myself and then - wait for it - become one of the interventionists! Yes, that's a real word! I even have Jeff VandensomethingGerman's whole speech down:

"Well, [Insert name], I've been here since yesterday and I just see a bunch o' people who love you like crazy, so how this works is they're gonna say some things and then you're gonna say what you're gonna say and then we're done, sound good?"

Granted, ok, yes, I could have copied and pasted that speech but I didn't because I WOULD BE AN AMAZING INTERVENTIONIST.*

I mean, I have no psychological training whatsoever, but I'd make a go at it. Sassy, 'member? I'd just start intervening on people I know, knocking drinks out of people's hands, smashing my father's bacon lettuce & fried chicken fat sandwiches to the ground, randomly going up to strangers who litter and yell "INTERVENTION!" before tackling them to the ground and shoving the gum/beer can back in their mouths.

*Once I begin my interventionist career, I plan on moonlighting at I can be an interventionista. And then - THEN - you will want my life. Yes, you will.

Saturday, September 04, 2010

My night was awesome; thanks for asking!

Illustrious D: Hello, Expectations.

Expectations: Hey, Illustrious D.

ID: Well, thanks for popping by. That was really fun while it lasted.

E: No worries, man. I aim to please.

ID: Yeah, I mean, that little Brazilian number that seemed so sweet and cute...OH, and the fact that he seemed really, really into me...THAT was a nice touch.

E: LOL, I know, right? Man, I sure outdid myself this time.

ID: Really did. Thanks so much for another evening spent by the phone waiting for another asshole not to call.

E: Hey, no probz, dude. Totally random thought: maybe you should post this when you haven't had 3/4 of a bottle of wine to compensate for the fact that you will die alone and when you might actually make coherent sense to the two winners that still read this piece o' shize blog.

ID: Nah.