29 March 2004

Writing

I really enjoy writing. I'd do it all the time if it weren't for one thing: I hate everything I write. It sucks! I can't ever finish a story because I convince myself it's not worth writing. What is this? I'm never going to get better unless I actually finish some stuff and leave it open for criticism. But i fear criticism, beceause if it isn't good enough for me, why would other people want to read it? Ugh!



19 March 2004

My Penis

Do you find my penis interesting? Is it your goal in life to help me improve my penis? Would it give you happiness and a sense of fulfillment knowing that you helped contribute to the general well-being of my penis?
You must be the one that keeps sending me email!

Here’s the story:

I receive at least 5 junk emails a day. I define junk as the bulk solicitous email that all of us have at one point received from people we’ve never met who have never quite perfected proper grammar. I consider myself lucky to have such a small pool of garbage to wade through each day, but that isn’t the point of this story. No. My focus lies on the content of the messages. Eighty percent of these emails have to do with my penis.

Let me tell you a little about my penis. It’s fine. That’s all you need to know. I am very happy with the hand I’ve been dealt. I know that there are men in this world walking around with straight flushes, but it doesn’t bother me. I don’t ever play with them anyway.

This is where the problem comes in. I’m happy with my penis, but these people who send me the emails aren’t. As a matter of fact, it seems to be the general consensus that I could and should add at least another four inches to my penis. Now, they all have their reasons: increase my confidence, make women happier, change the channel when I lose the remote… but they do all agree that they can help make it bigger, and that making my penis bigger is a good idea.

I’m not sure who to listen to. These emails are all from different people with different ideas on how to bulk up my penis. They have pills, creams, pumps, weights, exercise techniques, diets… it’s a tough decision. (Notice that I could have said “hard” but restrained myself)

I’ve decided to listen to all of them.

Now, I’ve done the math. To review, I receive four penis emails daily on average, and they all seem to agree that a four inch improvement in overall length is exactly what I need. Now, to be fair, some of these emails also suggest some sort of girth enhancement, but for the sake of keeping my calculations simple, I’ll ignore that for now. We’ll just consider any girth growth a pleasant surprise.

We’re going to assume that all of the claims in these emails are 100% accurate and independent from any other emails. We’re also going to assume that the results are relatively instant. All of my calculations are based on one year’s worth of emails. And finally, my current penis size will not be factored into the result. It will be insignificant in comparison to the behemoth I will soon be wielding.

Ladies and gentlemen, if I responded to every penis email I’ve received over the past year, my penis would be 5,856 inches long.

Yes, my friends, that’s 488 feet.

Now let’s put that in perspective. If I were to lie on my back and think certain thoughts, my penis would stand more than three times taller than the puny 151' Statue of Liberty. How’s that for a national monument? And do you realize that you’d have to be at least on the 35th floor of most skyscrapers to even have the privilege to look down on my penis? Amazing.

Now, how much blood would it take to fill this monument to phallic flesh? Well, we said we’re ignoring girth enhancement, so I’ll be using the average penis diameter of 1.5" that I found after looking through several online study results. I’ll also be assuming that the entire penis could engorge itself with blood, as the whole blood/flesh ratio is too much to consider at this hour.

With all that in mind, my new penis could hold at least 45 gallons of blood.

This is somewhat of a disappointment, since the average human body only has 1.25 gallons of blood in it at any given time. My new penis would kill me much like a vampire the second I saw a Girls Gone Wild commercial on late night TV.

At least if I was dead, I wouldn’t get any more penis emails.



08 March 2004

Zoom Zoom Splash

Well, I got my license back this weekend. It's a very strange victory. It's not like I re-earned it, so it's not a feeling of accomplishment... It's almost like finishing a prison term.
I'm surprised at how well the damn Taurus is doing. It still shifts like it has narcolepsy, but I can deal with that. The big problem now is night vision. The headlights are for shit... I need to get a hold of some of the ultra-clear versions, but they don't come cheap. The need for these was most apparent Friday night when I was wandering aimlessly across the Dodge county highway system and damn near wiped out in a puddle.
This was no ordinary puddle, mind you. This puddle was covering the road and was at least 8 feet wide. I'd guess it was a foot deep at it's center. Anyway, cresting a hill at 55mph with a 60 degree turn coming up, the puddle and I were formally introduced, much too late for me to make any course corrections. Fearing death, I... well, didn't do anything. Which was odd. I think I chalked it up to irony and accepted my fate. Anyway, long story short, I skipped across it like a black Ford stone and emerged wet but safe on the other side.
Ahh, to drive again.



04 March 2004

Gripe of the moment.

The guy who lives in the room below me is about as good as I am on guitar. Yet he insists on playing thru an amp.



The cost of my mistakes.

$1641.96.

That's what I've cost myself in speeding tickets and other fines last year. Ouch. This, of course, doesn't include the exponential inflation of my car insurance that went along with getting the speeding tickets and the subsequential license suspension. (side note: Neither Word nor Dictionary.com don’t recognize “subsequential” as a word. It’s a word, damnit.)

Anyway, what’s got me thinking about this is the fact that I get my driver’s license back on Friday. I should be happy about this, but it’s depressing. What am I going to do with it? Drive my shitty Taurus to nowhere in particular, since I have nowhere I really need to go, until it dies on me again? I’d go to Puckaway or something, but it’s too wet and cold out to really accomplish anything out there. Maybe I could just work on it in the driveway, something I could’ve done all winter when I had no license. What’s really depressing is the fact that I lost my license in the first place. I really know how to fuck up a good thing. I had pretty cheap insurance, I was lined up to get a nice, new car… And then I rack up almost two grand in fees and lose my license. What a winner. Now I have to stick with that damn Taurus at $900/year insurance since that’s the absolute cheapest way I can legally drive. Hell yeah it could be worse, but it still sucks.

Which brings me to my next point. I am terrible with money. Terrible. I buy way way way too much shit that I shouldn’t. I swear to God it’s an addiction. Think Jack in Fight Club before his apartment explodes. I’m sitting here right now thinking of all the fancy new shit I want to buy. I have no money to buy it with. I shouldn’t even be thinking about stuff like this right now, since I have it pretty damn good to begin with. Disease, I tell you. Disease.

I want my damn tire job back. I didn’t have to think much, I lost weight, I got a tan, I had fun. I got money by going to work. I liked it better than college in that respect. I don’t like that I’m spending over $10,000 a year to be here, no matter how well I do. I mean, damn, there was some pressure to do well in high school, but if I got mediocre grades (and I did), there weren’t that many consequences. Now I have to keep a 2.5 GPA to even take classes for my major, and better keep a 3.0 if I want cheaper insurance. So every time I go to class, I realize that I paid an assload of money to be there, so I better make it worth it, and that while I sat there, I was getting more and more in debt.

Ok, I’ll admit it. I’m a lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky fuck. I have college paid for like 3 years. Very damn nice. But I’m still racking up debt left and right somehow, and my mom won’t let me forget about that every time we talk. My cell bill I manage to pay for, but car insurance debt keeps growing like cancer. I doubt I’ll make any money this summer at Goodyear; it’s all going to go toward getting my car back in the black. And that’s if my transmission still does it’s job after a whole summer of at least 300 miles a week. I need a job next year, at Goodyear if at all possible. I hate this fucking feeling of having more and more debt just by living. I will never buy a fucking credit card. I don’t need to be the classic American broke motherfucker. I want to keep Puckaway.

Done with the pissing and moaning? Think so.

I was wondering what was wrong with me after about a month in here at UWO because I had hardly met anyone new besides my girlfriend. I was still wondering that last week, when I had this explosion of friends. That was a much needed pick-me-up. Through a guy across the hall that I’ve talked to a few times about computer stuff, I’ve met about 10 other guys who are actually nice. It’s cool finally having enough people to play multiplayer Mario Kart, (I need to buy another GameCube controller now. Disease….) and one of the guys from upstairs is a UT and Star Trek freak like yours truly. It’s nice having a girlfriend who’s actually excited by my making new friends instead of feeling threatened.

I love college. Fuck worrying about financial obligations and stuff, I’m having fun.

I love my fragile mind.



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