My life experiences, in short

I apologize to all you readers out there for not posting in a while.. I’ve been quite busy between taking classes two days a week and being lazy during the rest. That was a joke, I know no one really reads this shit.

Well, for those of you who read this (so no one) yesterday was my birthday.  You probably just read that sentence and said to yourself, Captain Kidney, I’m dying to know what you received for your birthday! Well don’t be.  I got a card from my aunt, and at first glance, I was excited to open it, assuming there was a sum of green 20 dollar bills in there, considering I am unemployed and need money to fulfill all my bad habits (just kidding, I dont have any…). I was very disappointed to find a 50 dollar gift card to Sports Authority. Who the fuck goes to that shithole anymore? The last time I went to Sports Authority was when I got lost on the way to Lacrosse Unlimited, a real sports store. But hey, it’s the thought that counts right? Oh wait, no, I desire real things, not gift cards to shitty stores that only get visited by homeless people and 8 year-olds who want their first pair of t-ball cleats.  Whatever, maybe I’ll just buy something then sell it on eBay for ten times more than what I bought it for.

So then, I get two cards from my mother and grandparents.  Again, I assumed money.  We all know what assuming does (for you idiots out there, it makes an Ass(out of)u(and)me.. clever).  I got scratch tickets.  The 2nd and 3rd ones I had ever thought about scratching, because with limited funds, scratch tickets are the last things I desire to spend my collected quarters on. Anyway, I scratch the first one, some 5-dollar ones my grandparents got me. On the first (of two separate tickets they had given me), I won Five dollars. Ok, started with nothing, came out with five bucks.  On the second, I came out more successful, winning ten bucks.  Wow, what a day I’m having. Just made fifteen bucks off what I figured were worthless gifts.  Then I see my mother’s gift, a “Billion Dollar Winner” ticket. Wow, that just sounds exciting.  I scratch my “winning numbers,” none of which were any of my lucky numbers (7, 17, 24 for those of you who care).  As I begin scratching my hopeful winners, the first three numbers are, you guessed them, 7, 17, and 24. Could have won ten thousand dollars. Guess not. None of the other numbers I scratched were anywhere to be found under the winners.  So much for winning that billion dollars.

A little later, as I’m creeping facebook and searching online for what movie I want to download and watch later on, my mom comes into my room. She gives me a talk about how that wasn’t the only thing she was going to get me, and to let her know what I really desired for my birthday.  Then comes the kicker. She says to me, “I was going to get you a fishing pole, but I wasn’t sure what kind to get.” I felt like asking if I really gave off the impression that I wanted to fish 24/7. The only time I will fish is if I have beers with me or I’m on a boat (props to T-pain and The Lonely Island). Other than that, you will not find me dead near a fishing pole, unless it’s someone else’s.

Anyway, I will take this opportunity to tell her that if she does not get me xbox I will probably run away and never come back. PS2 gets old after the 928347982374th game of shitty graphics and an even worse sountrack.   Yes, I am poor and can’t afford to get xbox on my own, despite the fact I have requested it for Christmas and my birthday last year. No big deal.

On another note, I watched UP (yes, the new Disney movie), and I have to say, I was impressed. It threw my emotions in a whirlwind, but overall, I am not ashamed to say that I enjoyed it. I recommend it to anyone who can’t find weed to smoke or beers to drink. Well, it’s good to be back, and I’m sure that you readers (if you exist) are glad to hear from me again (on opposite day).

So far in my half-semester at community college, I have learned a few things that will help me survive the remaining portion. Besides being rediculously easy, and overwhelmingly run by people who are clearly not natives of this country, I haven’t been turned away from this scene yet. Quite the contrary, I enjoy it. Not so much that I want to spend the rest of my college career there, but just enough so that I can finish this semester and hopefully go to a less diverse, english-speaking college. Anyways, here are a few things that I have learned that may help you survive your own journey into the world of community college.

First, DO take the time to observe the people around you.  No, I’m not saying interact with them, but merely be aware of your surroundings. Just the other day I witnessed an asian female with red hair. Now I know for a fact that NO asians are born with red hair, unless they have a genetic follicle-related problem. If you are one of these people with such issues, pay no attention. This sight made me take a quick second glance, and left me in silence, pondering the issues going on within this certain female’s head that made her make the decision to change her hair color. If you are a natural blonde and want a nice shade of brown on your head, go for it. Caucasians have the priveledge of being born with a random hair color. So if you are a natural blonde and want that shade of brown on top of that face, then by all means, go for it. No one will say a word, nor care, nor be able to tell a difference, unless you decide to have hideous roots in your natural color. This doesn’t only apply to blondes. If a brunette wants a shade of amber, fine. If a redhead wants some blonde in their life, and have the inability to get a boyfriend because of their hair color, then all the power to you. But if you are asian, please do everyone a favor and do not draw more ill-exposed attention to yourself. Every person around you realizes that is not your natural color. Congratulations! You have accomplished your goal of getting the attention of males around you. However, I’m almost positive it’s not the attention you want. I don’t think you washed the dye through your hair thinking, “Man, I really want people to make fun of my unnatural hair color choice and laugh behind my back.” Sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s what’s going on. Maybe even in front of you.

Second, DO NOT sit alone. You never know who will spot you from across the lobby and think “Now THERE is someone who looks lonely and needs some attention. From me.” If you happen to be surprised by an oriental coming to pop-a-squat within 3 feet to either side of you, move. If you don’t, you will be forced into a conversation (in broken english) about where they come from and how their life is so much better now that they are here. We know. We have been here for longer than you. We have had good lives thus far, so spare us your sob story. Another issue with sitting by yourself is if anyone who is not from the continental states spots you, you will be ridiculed behind your back and always remembered as “that fag who has no friends and sits by himself all the time.” I don’t think that is a life goal of anyone.

Finally, DO get in, and get out. Do not hang around there long enough to get sucked in by some school-run organization for teaching non-english speakers english. I have a friend who is in a class with mostly non-english speakers, and the following is an exerpt from a story she told me: “So this girl right? (Right.) She is doing a speech, and can barely speak english right? (I’ll take your word for it.) And she goes ‘So my brother.. He own a Seven-Eleven. I hope to own one myself someday. (A common aspiration) He will also find me boyfriend.’” There’s where it got me. Throughout life, I have been stricken with some poor relationships, but now I understand why. Born sibling-less, I have no sisters to provide the search for a decent girlfriend that I desire. Perhaps that is the answer to all of my life questions. Why do I remain girlfriend-challenged? Why do the Canadiens always beat the Bruins? Why do people bother watching the O’Reilly factor? The answer is simple: because I have no siblings. Watch out philosophers, I just answered all of your questions about life.

Let’s be honest for a second. Everyone loves watching the food network every now and then, gaining knowledge on how to create easy, fifteen-minute, healthy meals, which consist of ingredients that cost no more than ten dollars. Jim Gaffigan, famed comedian, likes to say that, “When you’re hungry, the food network is like porn.”  Ok Jim, I get what you’re saying. But let’s be real. Besides once or twice, no one ever decides to take it upon themselves to go out on a limb and attempt to create an easy, healthy meal for themselves. No, there is, in fact, a different element of programming that affects our appetites. Commercials.  You could be watching “Black Hawk Down” on FX at 2:30 in the afternoon, right after lunchtime, where you probably didn’t eat anything, and then it comes; the infamous commercial where “real” Italian people claim to love the pasta at an authentic Italian restaurant.  Then comes the shocker. THE PASTA WASN’T FROM THIS RESTAURANT, BUT INSTEAD IT WAS MADE AT PIZZA HUT!  Wow, what an insult to not only the intelligence of authentic Italian people, who no doubt could be able to tell the difference between an order at Pizza Hut and an authentic Italian meal.  I may be mistaken.  Maybe Pizza Hut stole the recipe from your grandmother on her way across the Atlantic.  But I’m going to assume that is not the case.  It also insults the workers at the restaurant, who we all know have never gotten those reviews before, thus stooping to the level of a sub-par fast-food chain.  Moral of this story: why waste your money on healthy, pure Italian foods, when you can just as easily get Pizza Hut pasta, or “Pasta Hut,” as they call it, for twenty bucks less and two thousand calories more?  Sorry, I guess I don’t see the point.  But that’s just me.

That brings me to the second and third points of this argument.  The other day, as I watched “The Daily Show,” a daily re-occurrence for myself, a fit of commercials came on the television.  Usually, I don’t pay attention to these commercials.  However, one particular commercial caught my eye.  This one was particularly clever, consisting of a mother and son sitting in their car eating what looked like a typical fast-food meal.  The quick exchange of humorous lingo made me chuckle a bit, which really peaked my interest.  Then came another shocker. This commercial wasn’t for McDonald’s or Burger King, two chains I have certainly paid my loyalty to, but one for Sonic.  I live in Massachusetts.  In my eighteen years here, I have YET to see a Sonic relatively close to my home.  At first, I went back to my typical commercial-time ritual.  I won’t discuss what that is, but I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.  Anyways, after a while, I got thinking.  What if other residents of this lovely state saw the same commercial?  What if that commercial made someone REALLY want Sonic?  I’m sure plenty of morbidly obese, faithful tv-watchers saw this, and thought, “Hmm.. I could really go for some Sonic right now.”  This poses problems on a couple of different levels.  First off, our country constantly complains about how obese our children are becoming these days. WELL WONDER WHY NO MORE.  Sonic, please refrain from producing shitty commercials in areas where THERE ARE NO SONICS.  Spare us the thirty seconds of temptation.  That is the last thing our citizens need.  If people like Sonic, they will go there. If they don’t like it, or for that matter, don’t even know about it, then don’t worry. I’m sure you have plenty of faithful, overweight patrons as it is. As far as I’m concerned, even if a Sonic builds a restaurant, if you could call it that, next to my house, I will not go there. That is my payback for years and years of thirty second commercials that at first had me hooked, but then made me realize that useless attempts to get me to travel to God-knows-where to find you are no good. No good no matter how close you are to me.

Another case of this would be that of CiCi’s pizza.  Thank you CiCi’s, for at least TRYING not to bombard me with your delicious looking entrees. Sure, I see a CiCi’s commercial every now and then. And at first, I had the same reaction to these as I did to those thirty seconds of hell from Sonic.  However, because of the lack of repetition, I soon realized that you were making an attempt to broadcast to areas where you are located.  It’s not your fault that television schedulers need filler time. Yes, your food looks quite appetizing, but so do most foods on television. But the point is still there. When I am hungry, I want instant gratification.  I want to drive three minutes down the street to the nearest Wendy’s (my personal favorite), not drive four hours to pay for overpriced meals I could make at home for half that price. My message to Sonic is this: Do us all a favor and retract your commercials from our airtime. We don’t need you. Thanks, but no thanks. And to Pizza Hut: good effort, but everyone knows that your meals are nowhere near as delightful as an authentic Italian-grandmother cooked dinner. Again, thanks, but no thanks. I suggest you go back to the drawing board on this one and figure out a new way to try and seduce patrons into buying your over-caloried, under-priced, not-that-good food.

I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping up lately.. I’ve had a little trouble with my password. But I’m back. I know you all are glad to hear that! Sort of. Anyway, I’ve started classes at Quincy College, and so far, nothing troubling to look forward to. I recently completed the first of five assignments for my Psychology class. It was not too hard, and it took me a while, but I now have a rough draft to hand in to the teacher before it’s actually due. Always a good habit to get into. If nothing else, the one thing I have learned throughout high school, is that rough drafts do nothing but help you. Too bad I didn’t think of that last semester.. My Philosophy class may be a little more difficult, considering we only have two tests the entire semester. I’ll just have to prepare myself adequately for them. No worries so far.

Recently, I’ve begun reading a book called “The Know-It-All” by AJ Jacobs. I recommend this book to anyone who may or may not lack irrelevant knowledge, but appreciates some good sarcasm. Jacobs attempts to read the entire encyclopedia (44 million words, by the way), in order to become the smartest man. I admire his determination, but can honestly say that I have never, and most likely will never, have the urge to take this daunting task upon myself. So I figured his book would be good enough. It is filled with sarcasm, leaving no page unturned without at least a quick laugh.

Well, in case you all were wondering, I’ve begun thinking about stand-up comedy. Now, after you’ve all made your preliminary judgements, hear me out. Because there are so few jobs out there, and I tend to have quite the sense of humor when I want to, I feel like stand-up could pan out for me. Not because I want to find a career in going on stage and making fun of the people I love, but mainly because I feel they provide adequate humor to get at least one routine out of. I’m not talking about Comedy Central-worthy stuff here, I’m just thinking small comedy clubs and such. Still, this is only in the back of my mind, considering I’m having so much trouble finding a job myself.