March 24, 2007

"Any free time not spent making money is unprofitable time."

--A proverb

In all my passion about things of a political nature I have forgotten to keep readers posted on developments in other areas of my important life. This is inexcusable and to punish myself for this mistake I have recently done things to permanently scar my body while sitting on the toilet. These scars will remind me of the error of my ways.

As you know, I am employed as an unqualified remedial science teacher and a slightly less unqualified substitute gym teacher in the Greater Baltimore School System. I only have three classes per day and because the school computers do not let me access pornography, I am left with large periods of time to fill or become bored with self and looking at twiddling thumbs. About a week ago I came up with a grand plan. The plan in question involves posing as a trustworthy school counselor, posting notices on bulletin boards announcing my presence, and encouraging students to trust me with very sensitive personal information. I then use this information to extort money from them as once I have the sensitive information I sit back, clasp my hands behind my bald head, grin broadly and explain that the information they have trusted me with (as I am trustworthy enough to trust with sensitive information) will be revealed to parents, police, or other persons who would crucify the trusting student if they knew the information I was being trusted with. This good plan has so far netted me $3,452.23 in addition income this month and I plan to expand my operations in the coming months with an expected monthly income bump of between $5,000 and $10,000. Not bad for an employee of the public school system which is not broken when we see how effective a good moneymaking plan can be!

Since the status of my relationship with my girlfriend is questionable as I am uncertain whether I am willing to make a commitment given that she keeps telling me about "giving head" to drug dealers to repay debts accumulated while being a junkie, my good friend Chopper and I have discussed a plan to get your friend Behr a more reliable girlfriend, one I know can cook, clean and pull herself together for social events.

I have in the past told you about my former friend Dale and his wife, who flirted with me often and would sometimes "accidently" rub a breast against your friend Behr's shoulder or allow her skirt to ride high on the thigh to show delicious, smooth thigh meat to Behr's hungry eyes. Well, after telling friend Chopper some of the tales regarding Dale's wife, he has taken the time and effort to explain to me that these behaviors have made Dale's wife rightfully mine. Because Dale threw me out of his house during the holidays due to my playfulness in placing my personal items, meaning testicles, in a serving dish being used to distribute deviled eggs, and then filed a restraining order against his good friend Behr, I am also well within my rights to set things right with Dale, his wife and myself (Behr).

Chopper and Behr (me) are making the preparations this weekend for an operation worthy of Navy Seals. We will put on all black outfits, smear grease paint on our faces, and in the dead of night break into Dale's house, subdue Dale and abduct his wife. Then, after we get her to an undisclosed location, we will set to deprogramming her (as we are certain she has been brainwashed and forced by Dale against her will to not be Behr's girlfriend). Once the deprogramming is complete, she will certainly want to become Behr's girlfriend, especially after the wonder of seeing Behr's personal items in a tray full of deviled eggs during the holiday season.

Friendship with Chopper has truly changed my (Behr's) life and opened my eyes to the truth that is out there. Praise the Lord for bringing Chopper into my lonely life, as not only do I have a true friend with straight up political views and agendas, but one who is helping me to have a real girlfriend.

Sweet! You know what's awesome (besides, like, volcanoes and wolverines and fucking Gears of War!!)? Okay, so the first time I came here I was a goddamned imbecile. This website has embiggened my reality. That's the truth: it improved both my existence and things external to it, via some osmosis/voodoo. Sorry if that makes me a GROTESQUELY UGLY FREAK. Since we're all here together, you know what is not awesome? Showing up late for a party. Also not awesome: re-opening old wounds and saying stuff that's already laid out elsewhither, and then (hopefully not) re-starting discussions already discussed. Consider yourself warned, shitheads.

I've been really busy in the big blue room. Its restless and timeless companion, the Orb of Fire, comes when it may, and men fear to glance up at it. But let me tell you what I remember.

I have listened to people talk about E2 since, I don't know, FOREVER. And if not, it was somewhere around FOREVER. So I won't talk about E2's changing seasons, the Quest For Better Content and Also Maybe the Holy Grail. Hell man, I don't care.

I remember two things, and they are as follows, using something called an "unordered list". I found it on the internet:

• The red shirt node. Hah! What's always seemed funnier (to me) is the coalescence of that "joke" and the "joke" about red-shirt ensigns in my brain. I no longer separate the two. They are one. So, by way of association, any time I watch Star Trek and there is a red-shirt ensign, inevitably it proceeds that I visualize cowofdoom's death. I'm not sure what this means.
• The other one's hard. I got here in March, 2001 sometime (I'd give the date, but I'm typing directly into the box below, and I'm afraid that dark internet sorcery will destroy everything ever). I didn't know shit about shit. At some point I became an editor, and due to technical difficulties, I stepped down. And aside from "How did I get here, Sarah?," it's the only writeup that chafes my brain daily. I don't remember when, but some interweb hoodlum (who, I assume, must bear a strong meatspace resemblance to the peerless Interstellar Scrotum) crafted a writeup in the daylogs--this was about the same time that "Wore a red shirt today. More later." appeared, mind you--about his day. Except he did it as a text adventure. And aside from the aforementioned story by jp, it is the best and most flawlessly executed writing, in my estimation, that this website has to offer. And I only read it once, six years ago, and have not been able to find it since.

Serendipity: a dumb-sounding word that means something like, the time when you find an unexpected thing, so inexplicable in its excellence that, in the time it takes you to remember that it wasn't what you were searching for, great and wonderful change has already occurred. You are forever improved. I was searching for some other comfort, some other solace in my otherwise problematic life, but instead, through some external benificience, found this place. Like a syphilitic lesion inexpertly bandaged on the upper thigh of a high-priced, famed callgirl from the "Business Personals" section of your local newspaper, I will never leave. Glad to be here.

That's when I decided I loved this goddamned place that doesn't exist. Man. Talk about your good times. I get this thing in my chest, right about here, when I think about that place in my life. That's what I remember. That's what I remember.

Diane and I were sitting at home watching About Schmidt on DVD. (Warning: spoilers ahead!) Schmidt is very conservative by nature, and he doesn't much like his daughter's fiance, or his future in-laws. All fathers of the bride love hearing about their daughter's sex lives, particularly from the groom's boasting mother, who wants him to be sure that whatever happens in the marriage "They'll always have what happens between the sheets." The wedding reception scene is set up by the best man's toast, where he quotes the groom as saying, "I know this will sound strange from me, but I think I'd like to go out with this one again." After which the best man jokes that he can't repeat the rest of the stuff he said about her.

At that point Diane turned to me and said, "Don't you dare!"

I told her truthfully I hadn't said a thing about that issue. I explained I had blogged all the naughty bits.

Please don't set her straight.