Apathy and Arsenic and Apollo (Oh My!)

So… I had entirely too much free time on my hands at work today. I couldn’t leave early, but I also couldn’t just sit at the nurse’s station and do nothing. I took to wandering the halls, pretending like I was doing something, or hiding out in the bathroom, playing solitaire on my iPod (and never winning a damn game).

This reminded me of two things.

First, the whole “hiding in the bathrooms at work” bit made me think of Shane in Apathy and Other Small Victories. He would always fall asleep in the bathroom of his boring office job.

Second, as I wandered the hospital corridors, I was reminded of a conversation I’d had two nights previous:

Ben: you should slip them arsenic in their pills
Ben: be the greybull angel of mercy [NOTE: For those of you who don’t get that reference, here you are– follow the link to start crawling out from under that rock you’ve been calling your home]
Sam: heh
Sam: i would if i could get my hands on some
Ben: its a hospital, they have it somewhere
Ben: i’m sure you’re crafty enough to get ahold of it

So then, naturally, I wanted to know if I could somehow access the more dangerous drugs (maybe not arsenic). If evening shift really was as unsupervised as it seemed.

However, the most promising hall (the one with the pharmacy and lab) is attached to the ER. The ER was being overseen by a cute bearded man, who kept watching me as I walked past.

The fact that one cute bearded man was preventing me from doing what another one suggested was not lost on me.

I ended up in the old people’s recreation room, reading a National Geographic from 2007.

Yeah…

It was actually pretty interesting. One of the articles was about the future of the U.S. space program. Considering the recent upheavals in NASA and NASA’s government funding, I found this old article amusing.

I’ll share some quotes with you (yes, I stole it and brought it home with me… sue me):

President George W. Bush has outlined a new ”Vision for Space Exploration”: to return American astronauts to the moon by 2020 and eventually send them to Mars.

Yeah… no. We’re not going to the moon anymore. So much for that plan.

NASA calls the new space mission Constellation, and has already ordered construction of new spacecraft- a 1960s-like capsule called Orion, famously described by NASA Administrator Michael D. Griffin as ”Apollo on steroids”…

The first few Constellation moon trips- to begin perhaps as early as 2018- will be sorties to reconnoiter a projected outpost at the lunar south pole. Longer missions will follow.

Again, not gonna happen. In February, we heard Obama talk of canceling Constellation in 2011. Though he’s proposing a new plan for the future of space travel, it looks like the big moon-Mars initiative that’s been in the works for years is out of luck.

Anyway, the article as a whole discussed the ol’ space race (those were the days) and the future of space travel. It focused on the goings on in China and Russia, plus it ventured into the “promised land” of commercial space travel.

As I said, it was an interesting article. Nothing I haven’t read before (which would only make sense, seeing as it’s three years old), but I always enjoy me some National Geographic, regardless of the year.

However, I was not pleased with the quote at the end of the article:

“I do not see any need at all to justify human spaceflight on the grounds of what it’s going to do for science. It will do a lot for science, but that’s an ‘oh, by the way,'” Griffin says. “The drive to extend our reach- human destiny- is reason enough to go.”

First, I’m not entirely sure the overwhelming desire to conquer every bleedin’ thing we see can be classed as “destiny.”

But more importantly…

Science is never an “oh, by the way”!!

Damn you, Mike Griffin. Damn you.

Random AIM Chats With Sam

Maybe tonight I’ll get around to posting the history of The Great Wheaton War of ’10. Till then, I’m going to share with you two random (and, in my opinion, amusing) AIM chats I’ve had recently.

First, it’s Squeaks and I, discussing The Great Wheaton War of ’10:

6:31:31 PM Sam: i think i wasted a perfectly good kafka reference on tagg because he didn’t get my wil wheaton/secret of nimh reference
6:31:34 PM Sam: lamesauce
6:31:53 PM Sean: hahah
6:32:07 PM Sean: thats a pretty powerful combination for the right person
6:32:25 PM Sam: i was so proud
6:32:27 PM Sean: i think thats the man you should marry, one who gets such a rediculous reference mixture
6:32:33 PM Sam: goddamn right
6:32:48 PM Sean: like if anyone got a final fantasy william faulkner radio joke
6:32:56 PM Sean: id propose right there

And now, a chat with Chrissy after I played Dante’s Inferno:

3:40:52 PM Sam: jesus, so i was playing dante’s inferno last night, right? i swear to christ, the whole game is just TITS TITS FIRE FIRE FIRE TITS FIRE TITS TITS ON FIRE FIRE TITS
3:42:18 PM Sam: I entered the lust level of hell. a giant penis tower rose out of the ground, and a half-naked woman (supposedly cleopatra) was climbing up it. go inside the cocktower. naked womens with GIANT FUCKING COCKS with barbs on the end attacked me. get to the cleopatra fight. little unbaptized babies with knives come out of her giant nipples and attack me
3:42:23 PM Sam: weirdest goddamn game ever
3:43:06 PM Chrissy:
3:43:10 PM Chrissy: are you making this up?
3:43:19 PM Sam: i’m not that clever
3:43:36 PM Chrissy: where the hell did you find this game?
3:43:45 PM Sam: it’s a popular game!
3:43:55 PM Sam: it’s a newer release. been hyped for ages
3:44:07 PM Sam: gluttony had creatures with mouths for hands ripping me apart
3:44:37 PM Chrissy: it’s the unbaptized babies coming out of the lady’s nipple that turned my head
3:44:40 PM Sam: i only got as far as greed. i couldn’t handle it anymore
3:44:47 PM Sam: yeah… it was disgusting
3:44:59 PM Chrissy: i mean, the graphics on this look amazing
3:45:03 PM Chrissy: but that might just be me
3:45:12 PM Sam: on dante’s inferno?
3:45:15 PM Sam: oh yeah
3:45:15 PM Chrissy: yeah
3:45:17 PM Sam: they were great
3:45:25 PM Sam: all the tits look very realistic
3:45:30 PM Sam: and the fire as well
3:45:39 PM Chrissy: damn. this looks like SO MUCH FUN
3:45:43 PM Sam: i watched the end game thing on youtube
3:45:51 PM Sam: lucifer has, like, a 3 foot cock
3:45:57 PM Chrissy:
3:45:58 PM Sam: everything is ridiculous
3:46:03 PM Chrissy: seriously?
3:46:09 PM Chrissy: what would i have to search to see this?
3:46:13 PM Sam: your lady love, beatrice? naked through the whole thing
3:46:24 PM Sam: lol
3:46:44 PM Chrissy: i’m watching some of the gameplay as we speak
3:46:57 PM Sam: i think wanting to see satan’s dick makes you a bad catholic
3:47:03 PM Chrissy: hahaha
3:47:04 PM Sam: let the guilt commence

I hope you enjoyed that.

Away Messages: A Poem

Saturday night, I was scanning down the away messages of my buddies list when I noticed they had an amusing, almost poetic sound when put together in order.

Yes, these were all the away messages from that moment- I only talk to a select few people on AIM. Enjoy:

Furry little boy-toy
I want to go to there
Where everybody go?
Who wants to sex up my Saturday night?
No, seriously
There will be no search party for us
I’m away right now

This is a Slurpee of Sin

Song of the moment: My Only Friend The Magnetic Fields

I know, I know, I haven’t posted in two days. And what a strange two days they’ve been. I’ll pick up where I left off last time.

Friday

Well, after waiting at Espresso for the better part of forever for Sean to call me, I finally got too cold to remain in the coffeeshop, so I bounced over to the dorms, which also have semi-reliable wireless.

I got so bored of WoW while I was waiting for Sean that I eventually just started reading. The Art of War, in case you were wondering. I amused myself by spending the entire first chapter switching out the word “love” for the word “war.” It works wonderfully, albeit hilariously. However, while reading, the gears in my head slowly ground out an idea that unfortunately involved me looking up something in a book I didn’t have. That being said, I knew someone who used to have it. Not really expecting him to have brought it with him, I still raced up to Ben’s room to question him about the tome.

Sure enough, he’d left it at home. I was ready to leave it at that and bid him a good night, when he stopped me at that door, telling a story. Eventually, instead of just waiting to leave, I sat down and had a lively little conversation with him. He’s such a strange kid, the more I think about it. It was nice, though, because any lingering feelings there have completely burned away. And it was noticeable (to me, at least). It felt so good to know that we’re completely platonic now.

He made a sort of sweet comment that was nearly a compliment to my intellect. Nearly. I always joke that I think on rare occasion (since, let’s be frank, my silly personality often masks the fact that I am a fairly intelligent person), but when I said that to him, he just kind of gives me this probing look and says, “Sam, I know you think.” Like I said, almost a nice little compliment. Pretty much as close as you get to one from him.

Anyway, Sean didn’t get in touch with me until I left Ben’s room and our marathon talking session. He said he was really sick and had been sleeping all day and needed to go back to sleep and apologized for bitching out on me. Whatever. At that point, I was ready to just head home and enjoy a quiet night alone.

Back at the apartment, Stauff IMed me. Apparently, the kid was drunk as fuck. That led to a highly entertaining AIM conversation with him, my favorite part of which reads as follows:

2:00:35 AM Stauff: yeahs, and i htink he wants to live though my sex life too
2:00:39 AM Stauff: kid needs to stop!
2:00:51 AM Sam: he wants to live through your sex life?
2:00:57 AM Sam: and does he need to stop having sex? haha
2:01:16 AM Stauff: He needs to stop soemthin
2:01:22 AM Stauff: sex or cigs
2:01:26 AM Sam: hahaha
2:01:34 AM Sam: give him an ultimatum
2:01:43 AM Stauff:
2:01:44 AM Sam: you gotta pick one thing to go, sean: nicotine or sexing
2:02:08 AM Stauff: Kissinff people who smoke is like kissing ashtrays, buliten boards say so
2:02:19 AM Sam: i would imagine so, yes
2:02:19 AM Stauff: Stop
2:02:24 AM Sam: me?
2:02:25 AM Stauff: dont touch me there
2:02:30 AM Sam: what the fuck?
2:02:31 AM Stauff: this is my private square
2:02:36 AM Sam: hahaha
2:02:39 AM Stauff: s t o p get that thing away from me
2:02:44 AM Stauff: go rape someone else
2:02:49 AM Stauff: go rape someone else
2:03:02 AM Stauff: think that is how it goes
2:03:54 AM Sam: i can’t say i remember how that goes
2:13:02 AM Sam: sorry again
2:13:07 AM Sam: i missed anything you just said
2:13:18 AM Sam: though i think i found a new, stable wireless network’
2:13:20 AM Sam: we’ll seee
2:13:21 AM Sam: *see
2:13:22 AM Stauff: GO TO HELL
2:13:26 AM Sam: omg
2:13:30 AM Stauff: but thats not what i said hehe
2:13:33 AM Stauff: just wanted a reaction
2:13:35 AM Sam: i… i…
2:13:39 AM Sam: *cries in corner*
2:13:41 AM Stauff: oh noes
2:13:42 AM Sam: *like, a lot*
2:13:46 AM Stauff: Aw
2:13:54 AM Stauff: I like you
2:13:59 AM Stauff: Nocries

Dreamy Segue

And now, to relate the two extremely bizarre dreams I had Friday night. They were this weird blend of things I’d heard during the day and things that have happened to me in the past few months.

First dream: It was Christmas break, and apparently, I’d had to go back to Wyoming, and the return to the dreaded rectangle might just be permanent. My mother notices that I’m unhappy, and she’s offering to buy a plane ticket so I can go back. I comment that Stauff has been wanting to do a road trip, and that maybe they could road trip out to get me.

All of this takes place in my bedroom in the apartment, however. My mother leaves and Sean and Amanda come in. Amanda says she’s tired and goes to bed (there’s a fucking surprise, but for once, she doesn’t take Sean with her), and Sean gestures for me to scoot over on the bed. With anyone else, this would be taken sexually. But Sean just wanted to lay down and join me in playing WoW. Hilarious. For some reason, I then tried to convince him I was dead. He didn’t believe me, but Willow (from Buffy), who was suddenly sitting beside me, did. I had to convince her I was joking, then she suddenly leaped on me and started making out with me.

I will not lie- it was pretty hot. Still not into chicks, though. Only the odd dream (then again, when it comes to sex dreams, all mine are strange… half the time, I’m a dude).

Second dream: This one is really bizarre. So, I go back to my old high school, where I stop in to say hello to my old librarian. Turns out, she retired and a new guy had taken over. The library was very… kid friendly, and I asked him why that was the case in a high school library. He informed me that this was now the elementary library, and the high school library was located in the gym… this made perfect sense to me in the dream.

Suddenly, librarian man transformed into Al Pacino, and basically all of my friends, past and present, were at this classy party. Very old Hollywood, with a bitching jazz band playing through the whole thing. Everyone around me was drinking and partying and having a good time… and seemed blissfully unaware of the ring of mafia types around the perimeter of the party, obviously preventing anyone from leaving.

Al Pacino was holding all my friends hostage because he wanted something I had. Something that, if I gave it to him, would allow him to rule the world. But I had to give it to him willingly, he couldn’t take it- not even off my dead body. So he had had to devise a plan to get me to cave and give up whatever it was he needed.

Weirdly enough, he also seemed to be very interested in me as a woman, despite the fact that he had ladies hanging off him constantly (including Falk and Grix, who defected to the side of evil for reasons I never figured out). I was wearing this floor-length, slinky red silk dress, with a sweetheart neckline that showed a lot of cleavage. At first, I tried to play up the sex appeal thing, to change his mind. However, it just seemed to make him more resolved to get both me and the mystery item I had.

He eventually whispers in my ear that he’s going to start killing my friends if I don’t give him what he wants. I look around the room, seeing everyone I’ve ever loved. Sean was drunk and speaking in an Irish accent with Rachel, Adi,  and someone else. Chrissy was flirting with Shawn, who was drumming on the table. Ben was scamming on all the women there, including Sabrina and Melissa, though he ended up with a tranny most of the night. There they all were, all around me, and I knew Al Pacino was going to kill them. I was ready to give in.

I step out for a cigarette, and I look into the glass entryway. There, a stark naked couple is standing, holding hands, staring at me. There is a semicircle of mafia types behind them, preventing escape. Al Pacino walks up beside me and says it doesn’t have to be this way. Apparently, these nude people are my friends. And in my dream, I can feel that friendship connection. I watch, with my heart breaking, as they look at me with eyes that say, “Don’t give in. It’s not worth it. We’ll be fine.”

Then, they break into this graceful, sorrowful interpretive dance. I watch them approach the glass window and see Al Pacino raise his hand. The mafia men all raise their guns. Still dancing, the couple draws something on the glass window in large, sweeping strokes. They finish, and for a moment, we all stare at it. It’s a large heart, with a small cartoon couple at the bottom holding hands, with little speech bubbles that say “I love you” and “See you soon”. At the top, they’ve written “Don’t give up”.

And then, the mafia men all start shooting. The couple is riddled with bullets. Blood splashes onto the window, obscuring the heart. It starts to rain. Upset, I stumble back inside. I am alone again, and I start crying, sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly, I hear Al Pacino say something. I turn around and, with horror, see him leading my brother toward me. He flew Chris in from Wyoming to help break me. I smile shakily and hug Chris. I can tell that he has an inkling of what is happening and is afraid. He is led away into the party. I collapse on a sofa, feeling numb. I know I’m going to have to give Al Pacino what he wants.

A man walks up beside me and sits down. It’s supposed to be Stauff, but it doesn’t look like him at first (though, eventually, it morphs into him). Stauff explains that it’s going to be okay and that I have to be strong and come up with a plan. Al Pacino won’t kill my brother because he’s afraid of making me snap and do something rash, because then his men will be forced to kill me to protect Al, and he’ll never get what he wants. I’m slowly calming down, and we’re lounging on the couch, talking, when Al Pacino walks by again. He passes us, then turns around and casually shoots Stauff through the forehead.

And this is what breaks me. I fucking snap, going absolutely cold with rage. I storm into the large kitchen area, reach into my backpack, and pull out a beer. I crack it open and start chugging it. Al Pacino sidles up and makes a smart remark about me drinking an IPA. I turn to him, face full of hate, tell him to shut the fuck up, pull a gun from somewhere, level it at him, and…

Wake up. Damn, I wanted to know what happened. The dream was really dramatic, strangely cinematic, and completely strange.

Saturday

Well, Paul slept through his alarm (not that I blame the man, since he worked the night before), so we didn’t watch the Arsenal game. Yes, I learned who was playing. Go me. Therefore, I didn’t wander campus-way until later, just before the MSU game. I don’t really feel like talking about it. We lost. We played sloppy fucking football. I’m already bored with college ball.

After the game, we all just kept drinking and being merry. Then Abby showed up. Then everything went totally batshit. She made us play this fucked up game of truth or dare. Suffice to day, I had to make out with her and her gay friend, she gave me a fucking lapdance, and Stauff had to do a bodyshot off me. It was awkward.

I’m never drinking with Abby again. She always makes shit weird.

Anyway, Stauff managed to injure himself being a fucking dumbass and climbing on the little building attached to QD and then leaping down from it. While drunk. And spraining his ankle pretty badly and fucking up his wrist. So, Chrissy and I walked his dumb, drunk, injured ass back to his dorm.

Once I got him settled, I popped back downstairs and hung out with Paul for a bit, as he was night receping. Went home with a killer headache, drugged myself up pretty hard, and passed out for what felt like forever.

Woke up late today… so really, it’s almost been three days since you heard from me. Oh well, today doesn’t count- it was full of sleep.

WoW news: I have joined a new guild. It advertised as being about leveling and having fun, so I’m excited. Also, the GM is cool. I’m looking forward to having a good guild experience. Plus, it’s Brewfest in Azeroth, a big, drunken ceremony in the tradition of Oktoberfest. I think it’s hella funny.

Bonus link of the day: I fucking loved Pogs.

The Omegle Debacle

Aw. I met the coolest person on Omegle, but my internet connection crapped out during the conversation. I’m sad because we won’t be able to talk again. This person was fun.

Stranger: BANG!

You: *raises eyebrow*

You: you have my attention

Stranger: i won the quick draw!

Stranger: i own you now.

You: damn

You: you own me, huh?

You: well, shit

Stranger: fosh.

You: okay

You: what does that entail?

Stranger: well firstly, you best take note that i like my sammiches sans-crust.

You: i will make no sammiches! i am nobody’s sammich woman!

Stranger: until now!

Stranger: especially if you actually are a woman!

You: i am a woman

You: and if i have to make sammiches, they shall remained crusted

You: oh how becrusted they shall be

Stranger: well joke’s on you, cuz my bread’s that pre-uncrusted shit!

Stranger: i believe a touche is in order, madam.

Stranger: or more to the point, a sammich.

You: well shit. at least i don’t have to make the bread. that is a crap job

Stranger: nuhh.

You: a sammich is not in order

You: what else do i have to do, now that you own me and all?

You: basically, what other orders am i not going to follow?

Stranger: pretty much everything.

You: i think you got a crap deal here

You: because i’m really bad at taking direction from others

Stranger: well this is just perfect.

Stranger: why can’t you just be a good property and make me my sammiches?

Stranger: no belligerence is neccessary in PB’n’J

You: fine, i shall make your sammich. but i shall make disgruntled cat noises whilst doing so.

Stranger: oooh. this is most definitely the most exciting sammich to date!

Stranger: sammich sound effects are most appreciated.

You: they are not happy noises

You: they are noises of discontent

You: and revenge plotting

Stranger: if i find clumps of kitty litter betwixt my buns, i swear i will make you make more sammiches just so you have to make sammiches.

You: psh, kitty litter? please.

You: that is the least of your concerns

Stranger: and the cattle prod is the most of yours!

You: kitty litter will not cause you the suffering you deserve for making a poor, sweet girl like me make sammiches for you

You: OH NO

You: *gasp*

Stranger: oh, you can’t pull the poor, sweet girl routine now.

Stranger: ‘specially since now the cattle prod’s in the picture.

You: i’ve always been bad at pulling the cute and innocent card

You: so now i’m playing the “i have a knife and i know how to use it” card

You: i like this card better

Stranger: well well well.

You: it’s violent

Stranger: i’m gonna need more cattle prods..

You: i think you’re gonna have to up your game

You: see, i grew up in the rural west

Stranger: …BIGGER cattle prods.

You: i know how to operate a cattle prod

You: and how to avoid it

You: haha, bigger is not always better

You: certainly not here

Stranger: yeahh, but i’m gonna duct tape ’em together and make a really big ol’ disciplinary device!

You: and that’s when i pull out my chainsaw… on a stick

Stranger: oh plz. your stick chainsaw is bush league.

Stranger: and very unnecessary for sammich making.

Stranger: i have yet to perfect my breadloaftree.

You: i didn’t say it was for the making of a sammich

Stranger: there’s no reason for silly saws of chain.

Stranger: i know, but you were thinkin’ it.

You: a breadloaftree? this is an intriguing concept

Stranger: isn’t it though?

Stranger: and you can’t be in on such a lucritive venture because of your unneeded and unappreciated anarchy.

Stranger: and cuz i say so.

You: that is terrible logic

You: it fills me with rage

Stranger: well lucky for me i am a pokemon master and know that your rage wont be released for another few turns.

You: besides, we haven’t even crossed the biggest hurdle: even if i made this ridiculous sammich, there’s no guarantee i’m anywhere near you to deliver it

Stranger: holy shit how did i decided you were a pokemon?

Stranger: this is bad.

Stranger: i’ve lost me.

You: and frankly, i’m not traveling to you if it means enslavement and being trapped in a pokeball

You: meh

Stranger: but back on track!

Stranger: you WIILL and ARE near me, on muh belt.

Stranger: next to Alakazam.

You: i am not on your belt

You: you haven’t caught me yet

You: i am still wild

You: and roaming free

Stranger: but i won the goddam quick draw!

You: dammit

You: you did at that

You: but i saw no pokeball then

You: therefore, not captured

Stranger: y’know what was annoying as hell? going to the pokemon safari.

Stranger: i’m so glad i got you on omegle.

You: haha, i’m actually glad i got you, too

You: you remind me of a friend of mine

You: and of gir, from invader zim

Stranger: ohhhrly?

You: mostly gir

Stranger: ahahaha

Stranger: i need to find my trogdor courier bag with my gir patch on it..

You: that sounds like a thing of strange beauty there

You: wait…

You: shit

You: i’m wearing a gir shirt right now

Stranger: oh my lawd ’tis indeed.

Stranger: …

You: *bangs head against wall*

You: i’m such a nerd

Stranger: glory in shirt form!

Stranger: and yes.

You: haha

You: ’tis glorious

You: he’s… oh shit

You: no way

You: no goddamn way

Stranger: eating a sammich!!!

You: you want to know what it says?

You: “make me a sammich”

Stranger: apowreigsdfjcxv

Stranger: YES.

You: that is the most ridiculous thing i’ve ever… wow

You: i’m impressed

Stranger: the most epic win i’ve ever had on the internet in my lifetime.

Stranger: or anyone’s lifetime.

You: haha

You: you’ve seen many lifetimes

Stranger: indeed i have.

Stranger: but most don’t have gir in them.

You: those are sad lifetimes. bleak. meaningless. a little like reading too much camus or sartre

Stranger: oh my gosh i had to read a little camus for a world lit class last year

Stranger: actually a lot

Stranger: a whole book, actually.

You: i had to read “myth of sisyphus” during finals week. talk about bad timing.

Stranger: he’s a great writer, but existentialism is so give-upXcore

You: i think he’s a so-so writer, and i don’t mind the tenants of existentialism. actually, i suppose if i were to subscribe to a philosophical school of thought, that’d be it

Stranger: i just can’t buy in to the whole accidental drive that it wants to put on to the universe

Stranger: despite how liberating the stranger did make it seem

You: i look at it in a more positive light. i am the only one who can create meaning in my life. i find something beautiful in that

Stranger: oh, well no doubt you can look at it in a more positive way than camus did

You: also, i don’t believe in any higher force or anything ordering the universe, so… *shrugs*

You: haha

Stranger: well i didnt think so

You: i think a squirrel could be more optimistic than camus

Stranger: ahahaha

Stranger: i saw one carry half a bagel up a tree yesterday

Stranger: that was hilarious.

You: that would have to be as big as the squirrel! that’s awesome

You: he’ll eat like a king for a week

You: the other squirrels will worship him

You: for his gathering skills

Stranger: or maybe he’s a nice squirrel and will make little sammiches for all his friends in a day.

You: and bring him gifts of peanuts and shiny buttons

You: nonsense

Stranger: I LOVE BUTTONS.

You: squirrels are selfish creatures

Stranger: actually, snaps are more fun.

You: snaps are fun in the same way clicky pens are fun- i play with them when i’m bored in class or meetings until they irritate someone

Stranger: clicky pens make for awesome office-supply ranged weapons

You: give me two binder clips, a large rubber band, and a clicky pen, and i can make a sweet projectile launcher

You: i mean

You: i have never, ever done that

You: ever

You: *cough*

Stranger: pfff.

Stranger: you lil’ schoolyard anarchist, you.

You: what can i say

You: i was a rebel

Stranger: i bet you could make a damn good sammich then.

Stranger: you should show meh!

You: i make a mean sammich

You: a mean, toasted turkey and ham delight

You: it’s like a party in your mouth

You: but you’ll never know such joys

Stranger: ….

You: because i refuse to be your pokeslave

Stranger: i don’t think you understand what contract you’ve entered into by being terrible at drawing quickly.

Connection asploded.

Isn’t it awesome that the lost connection thing fit with the ZIM conversation? I thought that was sweet.

I Have Vicodin, Do You Want to Come Over?

Song of the moment: “Que Sera, Sera” by Connie Francis

It’s a Tuesday night, and I’m curled up with a beer and House, happily pantsless. It’s a good night.

Speaking of pants, I have accidentally stumbled upon a comedy goldmine in the form of an idea for a short story. And not just any short story. Oh no. This will be the greatest short story ever written. Ever.

It all began when I was chatting with Grix (yesterday was a good day for breaking my isolation, by the by):

7:53:55 PM Amanda: so
7:54:03 PM Amanda: shit what was I going to say
7:54:05 PM Amanda: dont remember
7:54:11 PM Sam: i don’t know
7:54:35 PM Amanda: WHY DONT YOU KNOW
7:54:47 PM Sam: i left my psychic pants in Michigan
7:54:48 PM Sam: sorry
7:56:19 PM Sam: …i wish i had psychic pants.
7:56:31 PM Sam: i could wear them when i needed them, and remove them when i didn’t
7:56:38 PM Sam: though it might be weird, taking my pants off in public
7:56:41 PM Sam: unless i was a stripper
7:56:48 PM Sam: a stripper with psychic pants!
7:56:53 PM Sam: that’s it, i’m writing a book
7:56:55 PM Amanda: I would think you would always want to have those psychic pants on
7:57:00 PM Amanda: haha
7:57:07 PM Amanda: doooo it
7:57:07 PM Sam: nah
7:57:20 PM Sam: it would suck, ALWAYS reading minds and seeing the future and stuff
7:59:09 PM Amanda: I would feel jaded
7:59:24 PM Sam: her stripper name would TOTALLY be jade
7:59:26 PM Sam: good one!
7:59:32 PM Amanda: ohhh snap
7:59:38 PM Amanda: wait isnt that…  nope thats not your middle name
7:59:42 PM Sam: i seriously think i’ll write a short story about it
7:59:51 PM Sam: no… though that’d be awesome
8:00:21 PM Amanda: dude I want to read a story about a psychic stripper
8:00:26 PM Amanda: so go make that
8:00:34 PM Sam: i so will

And there you have it. The story of Jade the Stripper and her psychic pants will be the culmination of American storytelling and writing prowess. Now I just have to determine if we mean pants in the American sense of the word or in the British sense…

Speaking of writing, I found 79 pages worth of the novel I started writing in high school. I went back and read it. That was the most sobering experience of my literary career. I try to console myself with the knowledge that I’m fairly positive I’ve improved since then. I don’t know if it’s working.

Thus the drinking.

At Least That Nothingness Will End the Painful Dream of You and Me

I always think my life is very boring. But sometimes, it’s too beautiful, awful, perfect, sad, painful, and confusing for me to honestly believe that. I never have figured out exactly what I’ve done to Karma, I just know that She tends to show up and fuck with me on a regular basis, ruining all my carefully laid plans.

This has become quite evident in the last week.

I’m sitting here, in my lingerie, sprawled across a bed that’s not mine, in a room that used to me mine (but that has only retained my paint job, none of my furniture or personal touches), trying to find the words to describe last night and how it made me feel.

I have never, ever believed I deserved the attentions, affections, and, dare I say, love (of a sort) of Greg. He’s too sweet, too romantic, too… everything for someone like me.

The evening started with me watching Marley and Me. Fuck that movie. May it burn in hell and die and never, ever be resurrected. It was a five tissue flick. FIVE. Do you know the last movie that required five tissues? Neither do I. Holy shit, I know everyone told me it was a crier, but I had no idea exactly how bad it would be.

Anyway, Greg showed up about 3/4 of the way through the movie, so he got to see me in all my weepy glory. Great. Just what I wanted, to have the first guy I honestly cared about see me as a slushy pile of girl. Super.

Of course, he was irritatingly wonderful about it. Held me and let me blubber and cry all over him and laughed at me as I did so. Then, he shooed me outside so I could cling to my stupid dog and cry a little more and reassure myself that Gurgi was fine and healthy and everything was okay.

The tears were probably about more than just the movie, recent events taken into account and all. Maybe I needed to grieve a bit, for Grams, for my summer plans, for everything that I wanted to happen this semester that didn’t…

Speaking of which… no, nevermind, all in due time. The story continues.

We talked for a while. Greg has a job at a tech support center out in Santa Rosa, which is near San Francisco. He seems pretty content with everything out there, though he says Cali isn’t as fantastic as he always thought it would be. But that’s the way it goes, right? Accomplishing your dreams is wonderful, but reality never lives up to fantasy. He’s got an apartment out there, though he had to sell his bike. He just has the GT40. And when I say “just,” I really mean that he still has the vehicle that makes everyone who sees it cream their pants. Here’s an image I found that almost looks exactly like his. Observe the beauty of this machine:

I'm fair certain he sold his soul to buy this. I've never asked how much it cost- I don't think I want to know.

We planned on playing Left4Dead, but I couldn’t find the connecting cable we needed to hook it up upstairs, and I wasn’t comfortable with us playing it in my little bro’s room (he was spending the night with Allison). Instead, we curled up together on the couch and watched my pirated copy of Star Trek. It was terrible quality, but we enjoyed it.

To the extent that we watched it, that is. Which, truth be told, wasn’t a whole lot. Both of us are still single, and the feelings we held for each other before are still there. It was… nice. I never want gentle, but then, I’m always terrible at deciphering exactly what it is I need. I can figure out what everyone else needs, but not myself. Thankfully, he always seems to know for me.

Which terrifies me, naturally.

Around 2 a.m. we went for a walk down to the city park. We played on the swing set for a while, then lay in the grass, talking and holding hands (that’s right, I held hands… you see what this fucker does to me?!).

I told him I was emotionally attached to someone else, someone who was probably very bad for me, someone who will never return my feelings. He just let me talk and get it all out, the rollercoaster of the last year, the confusion and the desire and the self-loathing at my own stupidity. He told me about his last girlfriend, how things fell apart between them (though they are still on good terms), how he didn’t want the same things she did. It was cathartic for both of us, I think, just spilling our guts, all the little emotions and buried tidbits that we hid from everyone around us.

But not from each other. We’re past that in our relationship, whatever our relationship is. Friends? Of a sort, though we never speak anymore. Lovers? On occasion, I suppose. Fuck buddies? I think we’re more than that. We were each other’s first loves. Hell, I was his first everything, and he was the first boy I “dated,” the first boy I felt real affection for (not just a vapid crush).

I still can’t believe he’s here, in town, at the same time I am. Squeaks told me it was Karma tossing me a bone. I won’t deny that it makes me happy and that it’s good for me… but I don’t think it’s Karma giving me a break. I still feel it’s Karma fucking with me. Because, just like every time before, Greg and I are doomed from the beginning. He goes back to Cali on the 23rd, and I will be heading back to Michigan at some point (sooner, rather than later, I hope). A distance relationship would never work.

Maybe we’ll keep in better touch this time, though. I hope so. I missed him.

This is getting long and sounds ridiculous, I know. But only one of my friends admits to reading this blog (though I have a sneaking suspicion there’s another one reading as well… don’t worry, I won’t call you out on it), so I suppose she can suffer through my semi-emo bullshit and this craptastic romantic drivel.

No really, being with Greg always feels like something out of a movie. He’s terribly romantic. Certainly more romantic than I am. And, truth be told, I think it would be too much for me to handle in a regular relationship. So maybe it’s for the best that we only have these little moments, these brief and scattered memories together.

TMI ALERT: Ever had sex outdoors? I can finally say I have (though it was windy and freaking cold, kind of ruining it a bit). Check that off the list. It was scary as shit, because we were also in a rather public area. Guess sex in public can get checked off the list as well. TMI END.

I’m sorry, Chrissy, I won’t post a picture of him. First, I don’t like taking those pictures where you hold the camera at arm’s length to get the two of you in there. Those are silly vanity shots. I like candid moments. Always have. Two, in that vein, I don’t take pictures of him. I just want to hold onto the time we have, to take advantage of it. Taking a picture acknowledges that it will end soon, and that that’s all I’ll have left. And I never want to admit that. I like living in my illusion. And three… there’s something so wrong and wonderful and personal about Greg and I. Nobody in Michigan knows him, just of him (if I care to share). I perversely want to keep it that way. He’s mine and mine alone.

Don’t ask. My reasons don’t make sense. I’m mostly just lazy and hate taking pictures. Maybe I’ll change my mind at some point this week.

But… everything good ends. We walked back home and fell asleep together. And I remembered why I hate sleeping alone- nothing beats sleeping with someone else. NOTHING.

He left this morning (family obligations surrounding Lizzy’s graduation), and I got a little more sleep. I have some more phone calls to make in regards to tomorrow, but maybe I’ll get to see him briefly tonight (Mom comes back tonight, so I probably can’t devote too much time to Greg). I look forward to spending time with him before he goes back (he’s promised to take me camping- he better make good on that, as I really want to camp).

Here’s the thing: Despite how wonderful this is, there’s still something awful about it all. Because I’ll go back to Michigan, probably still emotionally attached to an asshole, but now hurting again from loving and losing. I think it’s worth it, though.

I had forgotten what it was like to have someone care about me. Me. Sam. The whole person, body and mind. To have someone who just wants to be with me. To not fight for a scrap of attention, but to have it given to me, not because I’ve earned it, but because I deserve it. It’s beautiful.

I think it’s funny that I just had a conversation with Stauff about how I wouldn’t meet a guy while I was here:

11:21:54 PM Sam: my bro’s off somewhere, talking to his girlfriend
11:21:58 PM Sam: that’s all he does, heh
11:22:15 PM Stauff: Yeah… gf’s do that
11:22:25 PM Sam: …yeah…
11:22:38 PM Stauff: and then if it is a bad one then you’re in trouble cause you have no life once she gone
11:23:08 PM Sam: *shudders* you are making my fear of commitment flare up and burn within me once again
11:23:35 PM Stauff: Well unless you have found a strapping young lad I dont feel bad
11:23:41 PM Stauff: I have time to make it go away
11:24:23 PM Sam: oh yes, in the two days i’ve been back out west, i’ve found a guy and wrapped him around my little finger *rolls eyes*
11:24:25 PM Sam: absolutely not
11:24:42 PM Stauff: Never know, I’ve seen strange things
11:24:57 PM Sam: that would be near apocalyptic, if i suddenly had that power
11:25:01 PM Sam: or inclination
11:25:01 PM Sam: lol
11:25:21 PM Stauff: hehe
11:25:33 PM Stauff: Well it could happen
11:25:36 PM Stauff: You could be like
11:25:39 PM Stauff: dang that guy is fine
11:25:48 PM Stauff: and he would come up and say the right words
11:25:55 PM Stauff: and you guys will go out drinking
11:26:05 PM Stauff: and whadya know, he calls the next morning
11:26:09 PM Sam: haha
11:26:22 PM Sam: i have no desire to pursue a romance with someone from here
11:26:30 PM Sam: as it would inevitably end up long-distance
11:26:40 PM Sam: and i just don’t have the energy or desire to do that
11:27:01 PM Stauff: ah
11:27:12 PM Sam: also, men here are freaking retarded

Guess I lied…

Okay, I’m ending this whiny, mushy, extraordinarily long post with this: Holy hell, I missed sex.

Apokalupsis Eschaton

I really don’t like Spring Break.

Yesterday, I spent the morning (as per usual) in Espresso. I was just finishing up Brockmeier’s book when an older man sat down in front of me. He got my attention and proceeded to talk to me. You know the conversation is going to be unsettling when it begins:

Him: “How are you doing?”

Me: “I’m just fine, thank you.”

Him: “How’s your brother?”

I don’t know this fucker. How can he know I have a brother? Unnerving, to say the least. Anyway, he continues to talk to me, despite the fact that I want nothing to do with him.

Quick note: Someone just walked into Espresso that looks kinda like Justin. I’m praying to Oppenheimer that it’s not him…

So, as creeper is talking to me, I cast my eyes rather desperately around the room, looking for a way out of this conversation. I lock eyes with a devastatingly attractive man who I had been secretly ogling before. He smiles at me sympathetically, continuing to listen in on my conversation with creeper, laughing quietly to himself. I grin a little, hoping that as soon as creeper leaves, I can then casually walk over to this very fine man and start up a conversation.

Sadly, karma hates me. The cute guy leaves before creeper. On his way out the door, he catches my eye and winks. I think about packing up my stuff and chasing after him, but he’s booking it across the street and I have shit spread all over my little table. So, my materialism wins out, I guess. I mean, I could have just left my shit and ran after the guy… but I didn’t.

I guess Ghiert is the man for me. Heh.

Update: Not Justin. *breathes sigh of relief*

Anyway, I went home a bit later… only to get a text from Chrissy, asking if I wanted to have coffee. Despite having just returned from Espresso, I’m totally game (I’m starved of human contact, dammit). We hung out for nearly three hours, just talking. It was… well, nice, actually.

I had a bit of an existential/romantic crisis yesterday. I realized (upon finishing my book), that really good literature always makes me want to snuggle up with a significant other and read it to them. And for them to understand me well enough to know why these passage or stories impact me the way they do. And to both respect that and the story… to love the literature in their own way, as well.

And I realized, quite suddenly, that I’m interested in someone who probably has a similar desire… but for music. And I’m not musically inclined. I love listening to music. I can appreciate it and talk about the emotions it evokes. But I can’t talk about it from a technical standpoint, what the composer or artist did right or wrong…

Which, come to think of it, he probably can’t do with writing. I mean, I know he writes, but he’s not a writer. Not really. He doesn’t have the same appreciation I do for how words fit together, how they sound when rolling off the tongue, how they flow across a page.

I might be in trouble.

Anyway, I drugged myself to sleep last night (to fix my sleep schedule) around 9, after a funny convo with Squeaks:

6:39:31 PM Sam: …maybe i should drink
6:39:35 PM Sam: on an empty stomach
6:39:37 PM Sam: that’s an awesome idea
6:39:50 PM Sean: oh yeah totally
6:40:04 PM Sean: great ideas come from weary minds
6:40:12 PM Sean: brb
6:40:43 PM Sam: i would like to be able to find the right words today… fuck ideas, just need normal access to my vocabulary. i’ve stumbled over words all fucking day. it makes me feel like i’ve been lobotomized
6:54:26 PM Sean: sry back
6:54:33 PM Sean: needed to get a tasee beverage
6:54:42 PM Sam:
6:54:49 PM Sean: you as a mindless vegetable is kinda a scary image
6:54:55 PM Sean: id prolly have to kill u
6:54:57 PM Sam: KINDA?!
6:55:02 PM Sam: uh, you’d have to
6:55:06 PM Sam: it’s in the contract
6:55:12 PM Sam: you signed when we became friends
6:55:21 PM Sam: don’t worry if you don’t remember… i get everyone when they’re drunk
6:55:27 PM Sam: so they don’t read the fine print
6:55:29 PM Sean: oh ok, i should really read the fine print on that thing
6:55:39 PM Sean: actually i should probably read it period
6:55:43 PM Sean: but knowing me i wont
6:55:45 PM Sean: oh well!
6:56:21 PM Sam: yeah… i also might have “accidentally” set your copy on fire. all that booze floating around by that paper… SUCH a fire hazard
6:56:59 PM Sean: you managed to pervey such splendid sarcasm in text
6:57:02 PM Sean: bravo
6:57:16 PM Sam: i’m gifted
6:57:20 PM Sam: that’s what my mummy told me
7:03:57 PM Sam: also… why does this happen? internet is stupid
7:04:01 PM Sam: …
7:04:59 PM Sean:  btw, is this a doctor ref i see?
7:05:00 PM Sean: http://drmcninja.com/page.php?pageNum=28&issue=11
7:05:30 PM Sam: i’m glad i wasn’t the only one who read that as such
7:06:10 PM Sean:  D&D deli
7:06:25 PM Sean: this is possibly the silliest thing ever]
7:06:30 PM Sean: i love it
7:06:33 PM Sam: yeah
7:06:37 PM Sam: it’s dumb
7:06:54 PM Sam: but hell, i’m currently watching mortal kombat with animal crackers, so…
7:07:02 PM Sean: …
7:07:14 PM Sean: the internet has no bottom
7:07:25 PM Sean: tact and class can fall forever
7:07:33 PM Sean: dumb has no bottom line, no limit
7:07:56 PM Sean: retardation in infinite
7:08:12 PM Sean: http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/1o2NBqhAYkuy82z82RG4m85xo1_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=0RYTHV9YYQ4W5Q3HQMG2&Expires=1236899205&Signature=II%2FBMrM9p1zRKZXLC2haZOnPF7g%3D
7:08:20 PM Sean: that somes up how i feel right now
7:08:29 PM Sean: how deep ive fallen
7:08:45 PM Sean: what a tangled interweb we wind
7:08:51 PM Sam: i feel dirty whenever i’m on it. internet used to be a classy dame. then she got involved with the wrong crowd, got hooked on blow, popped out a kid and chucked it in a dumpster… now, whenever we hang out, i wanna wear a hazmat suit to protect me from rare interweb stds
7:09:16 PM Sam: …i’m hungry
7:09:19 PM Sean:
7:09:26 PM Sean: im saving this convo for posterity
7:09:55 PM Sean: when the utopia of the filthy internet is but a memory, and everythign is censored and monitored
7:10:41 PM Sam: we’ll whip this out of your top-secret hiding place and reminisce about the dirty slut who ruled our lives, filling them with filth and vapid entertainments?
7:10:43 PM Sam: huzzah

So, I slept until roughly noon, when someone knocks on my bedroom door… and then opens it. Fucking lack of lock (see previous post for full story behind that one). I blearily look toward the door… Long story short, a friend of mine was in town, and stopped by to talk. He ended up asking me out. I kind of saw this coming (like a very similar situation freshman year), but I was hoping it wouldn’t ever come to fruition. Anyway, now I’m upset and antsy because I hate being the bitch to turn someone down.

And now I’m worried that I’m gonna have the exact same thing turned around and used against me soon… Just like last semester. Fucking karma.

Also, a poem I wrote this week:

This is the way the world ends-
not with a bang, but a whimper,
dried bits of rotten apple plastered
to a brick wall, framed by
the rough chalk outline of a heart,
scrawled by a little girl who now
stands holding a dead mouse, smiling

You were always walking out
of my dreams two-steps ahead of me,
leaving me mirror-writing memos
to remind me of your presence

I purchased Judgment Day at an auction
just this morning- it looked like one
white rose in an empty beer bottle,
dried and withered like the apple
I threw at a child’s chalk heart last
Tuesday, when you tripped my lips
into a smile once last time before
gliding out of my life forever

The tick, tick, tick of the campfire rot
counterpoints the snap of my
high heels on wet pavement, the only
sounds remaining in this husk of a world

I’ve always been open to falling from grace,
even when my days were beautiful
in their utter normality, the overlooked
miracle of your lashes fluttering in sleep
reclaimed by my eyes at midnight,
slowly sliding toward days filled with
moments without significance,
pushing me closer to the apocalypse
with every traitorous breath

I’m not completely happy with the last stanza, but I lack the creativity and will to do anything with it right now.

Also, this post is really long.

And Hopefully, I’ll End the Night With Something In My Mouth

Another entertaining AIM convo with Ben:

11:30:21 PM Ben: i imagine that morning would be akin to waking up after a long night of doing crystal meth
11:30:38 PM Sam: yeah?
11:31:10 PM Ben: intense nausea, really lightheaded, unstable, and narcoleptic
11:31:18 PM Ben: except without my ravishing good looks
11:31:27 PM Sam: well, naturally
11:31:33 PM Sam: meth fucks your shit up
11:31:37 PM Ben: yeah it does
11:31:40 PM Ben: talk about intense
11:31:41 PM Ben: hot shit
11:31:44 PM Sam: i know
11:31:48 PM Sam: wyoming’s a hotbed of meth labs
11:31:58 PM Ben: well, plenty of open space
11:32:03 PM Sam: i’ve seen photos of meth users that even made me feel ill
11:32:09 PM Sam: haha yes
11:32:16 PM Sam: “just set up over there, steve, by that cow”
11:32:27 PM Ben: hey, whatever works
11:32:39 PM Sam: cows on meth!
11:32:49 PM Ben: god that would be hilarious
11:32:56 PM Sam: yeah
11:33:01 PM Sam: …till they ended up in the road
11:33:04 PM Sam: like they ALWAYS do
11:33:18 PM Sam: a whole herd of fucked up cattle
11:33:22 PM Sam: wandering around your car
11:33:46 PM Sam: all bony and terrifying
11:33:51 PM Sam: like satan’s cattle
11:34:19 PM Ben: heh
11:34:29 PM Ben: that could be a deterrent like none other
11:34:36 PM Ben: i gotta work that into the jew movie
11:34:39 PM Sam: for hell or meth use?
11:34:44 PM Sam: cuz it might work for both
11:34:59 PM Sam: “stop your sinning unless ye want to become satan’s cowherd”
11:35:12 PM Sam: *frame of horrific cattle)
11:35:13 PM Sam: *
11:35:39 PM Sam: though i’d imagine they’d be taken care of by the four horsemen, naturally
11:35:53 PM Ben: well, they have nothing better to do i’d imagin
11:35:55 PM Ben: e
11:36:00 PM Sam: and cerberus would be the death cowboys’ faithful dog
11:36:19 PM Ben: well, you gotta have a shepherd dog
11:36:26 PM Sam: of course!
11:36:51 PM Sam: and three mouths full of pointy ass teeth would be enough of a deterrent to keep raging death cows in line
11:39:07 PM Ben: hell yes

Hayden Christenson: Just Because He Has a Face Doesn’t Mean He’s Attractive

Ben and I had the BEST AIM chat ever today.

12:19:16 AM Ben: thankfully i don’t live with a needy person
12:19:32 AM Sam: oh brombrom
12:19:34 AM Ben: they would quickly find themselves on the business end of something sharp
12:20:10 AM Sam: hehe
12:20:16 AM Sam: i’d imagine so
12:20:31 AM Sam: ‘s the reason i stopped rooming with amanda after freshman year
12:20:36 AM Ben: like a sword
12:20:43 AM Sam: nick has one
12:20:47 AM Sam: if you ever need to borrow it
12:20:49 AM Ben: or a sharpened fork
12:20:54 AM Ben: or a jew
12:21:07 AM Sam: like, those two pronged giant forks. that would be awesome
12:21:08 AM Ben: any of those may be used in case of sudden stabbing requirements
12:21:11 AM Sam: i almost wrote jew fork
12:21:14 AM Ben: government approved, by the way
12:21:18 AM Ben: mm
12:21:20 AM Sam: because i was reading your comment and typing at the same time
12:21:24 AM Ben: very nice
12:21:30 AM Sam: i like the idea of a jew fork
12:21:42 AM Sam: it’s like a little sharpened death menorah
12:22:09 AM Ben: that would be incredible
12:22:17 AM Ben: perfect weapon for the hebrew hammer
12:23:35 AM Ben: ¡MENORAH OF DOOM, AID ME IN MY TIME OF NEED!
12:24:00 AM Sam: and little sharpened stars of david to throw, ninja-style
12:24:05 AM Sam: ‘twould be BADASS
12:24:14 AM Sam: i’d convert if i got that shit upon becoming a jew
12:24:22 AM Ben: and how
12:24:44 AM Sam: instead, it’s like “here’s your wooden top and a potato pancake. GO NUTS!”
12:24:45 AM Ben: we could make a ‘convert to judaism today!™’ promo packet
12:24:54 AM Sam: oh man, nice
12:24:56 AM Ben: sharpened menorah of doom
12:25:02 AM Ben: throwing david stars
12:25:13 AM Sam: i want to do a commercial with poor acting and bad effects!
12:25:19 AM Ben: a dreidel with retractable spikes for children
12:25:20 AM Ben: hell yes
12:25:29 AM Sam: for the kids!
12:25:30 AM Sam: hahaha
12:25:38 AM Ben: jew curls that double as wings for quick getaways
12:26:14 AM Ben: torahs with iron bindings and lead inserts, for literally bashing other religious
12:26:16 AM Ben: religions
12:26:26 AM Sam: oh sir, that’s just gorgeous
12:26:33 AM Sam: you clever minx
12:26:33 AM Ben: yamulkas that double as parachutes
12:26:35 AM Sam: we need to do this
12:26:56 AM Ben: and, of course, the requisite jewish words
12:27:13 AM Ben: which can be used for secret code when in tight situations
12:28:12 AM Sam: haha
12:29:58 AM Sam: you know what i’m imagining? some jewish dude tossing a dreidel into a group of assassins. it blows up (because it’s actually a grenade, obviously). there’s this HUGE explosion. and off walks our super jew, who gets to deliver the one-liner “mazal tov, motherfuckers”
12:30:11 AM Ben: very nice
12:30:14 AM Ben: also?
12:30:30 AM Sam: …what?
12:30:42 AM Ben: roaming klezmer bands that are actually highly trained stealth assassins
12:30:53 AM Sam: oh. my. god
12:31:36 AM Sam: they would be feared throughout the lands
12:31:49 AM Ben: you know those big furry jew hats the guys wear to synagogue?
12:32:04 AM Ben: they’d be curled up attack wolverines
12:32:22 AM Ben: hidden, yet ever vigilant, ready for anything
12:32:24 AM Ben: like nazis
12:32:55 AM Sam: i like that you tossed nazis into a discussion of badass jews
12:33:19 AM Ben: hitler never would’ve fucked with the jews if they were that badass
12:33:26 AM Ben: he would’ve reveled in his judaism
12:33:37 AM Ben: jew champion of europe, man
12:35:05 AM Sam: there’s a marketing strategy, to promote this among current jews. “prevent another attempted genocide”
12:35:40 AM Ben: ‘you think people will fuck with you once you become a jew as badass as this? think again, boychik, think again’
12:35:57 AM Sam: hahaha
12:36:16 AM Ben: ‘you can be the jew no one crosses or insults. because if they do? throwing star of david TO THE FACE!’
12:36:26 AM Ben: we need to be writing a screenplay for this
12:37:06 AM Ben: this might give me something to do for the rest of break
12:37:07 AM Sam: an anti-semetic, screaming, bladed stars in his face, blood pouring from the wounds
12:37:09 AM Sam: haha
12:37:15 AM Sam: this needs to be written
12:37:16 AM Ben: god, that would be beautiful
12:37:20 AM Ben: it absolutely does
12:38:26 AM Sam: look at that! something to fight the boredom!
12:38:56 AM Ben: hozallah!
12:40:11 AM Sam: but you totally have to let me read it
12:40:44 AM Ben: i absolutely will
12:40:52 AM Sam: good

ADDENDUM:

A second hilarious conversation later followed.

2:22:31 AM Ben: oh jurassic park
2:22:39 AM Ben: how thou dost entertain me so
2:22:41 AM Sam: …
2:22:42 AM Sam: dammit
2:22:53 AM Sam: you are becoming sean now
2:22:57 AM Ben: ?
2:23:01 AM Sam: that’s all i heard this summer
2:23:05 AM Sam: “jurassic park rules”
2:23:17 AM Ben: i didn’t say it ruled
2:23:22 AM Ben: i said it was entertaining
2:23:34 AM Sam: he made me sit and watch it, then shushed me at the part where hammond or whatever the old dude’s name is says “Damn!”
2:23:50 AM Sam: i hate industrial kitchens as a result of that film
2:23:53 AM Sam: and raptors
2:23:55 AM Sam: fucking raptors
2:23:57 AM Sam: scary buggers
2:24:05 AM Ben: indeed
2:24:52 AM Ben: if one had shown up while i worked at the gallery
2:24:56 AM Ben: i’d have been fucked
2:25:25 AM Sam: i think i could fight most things, or at least try… but a velociraptor?
2:25:33 AM Sam: i’d be a quivering jelly
2:25:36 AM Sam: a DEAD jelly
2:34:37 AM Ben: mm
2:34:41 AM Ben: a dead, formerly quivering jelly
2:34:57 AM Sam: hm… well, i mean, jello’s not even alive and it still quivers
2:35:03 AM Sam: i might still be quivering upon death
2:35:09 AM Sam: would that make me a zombie jelly?
2:35:18 AM Sam: if i ever become a zombie jelly… eat me
2:35:25 AM Sam: …dammit, that sounded dirty
2:35:37 AM Sam: everything i’ve said recently has been filthy… unintentionally
2:36:23 AM Ben: it happens
2:36:27 AM Ben: i probly would anyway
2:36:32 AM Ben: it’d probly make me a zombie
2:36:35 AM Ben: and that’d be badass
2:36:37 AM Sam: probably
2:36:46 AM Sam: it would only be badass cuz i was dead
2:36:53 AM Sam: and couldn’t level a shotgun at your face
2:43:08 AM Ben: which, i assume, would be your reaction if i tried to eat you, without being zombie jelly
2:43:19 AM Sam: i meant the zombie thing
2:43:22 AM Ben: ah
2:43:24 AM Sam: haha
2:43:33 AM Ben: понятно
2:43:36 AM Sam: always have a shotgun for the zombie apocalypse
2:43:37 AM Sam: ALWAYS
2:44:12 AM Ben: oh, i intend to
2:44:26 AM Ben: and not one of those piss-ant sawn off shotguns either
2:44:38 AM Ben: i’m gonna have a fuckin’ arsenal of spas’s
2:44:51 AM Sam: as much as i don’t want to live in the country, i want to be near enough to farms to implement my fav zombie plan
2:44:54 AM Sam: as you well should
2:46:17 AM Sam: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:GLEANER_L2.JPG   or   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:9410JDCombineJuly2004.JPG
2:46:24 AM Sam: look at those beauties.
2:46:31 AM Sam: coolest way to kill zombies
2:46:36 AM Sam: fucking combines
2:46:44 AM Ben: hell yes
2:47:09 AM Sam: i’ll rip the dried, decaying skin from their bodies, leaving them desiccated husks of putrefying organs
2:47:19 AM Sam: and i’ll have my guns up top with me
2:47:24 AM Sam: in case any of them are clever
2:47:38 AM Ben: http://world.guns.ru/shotgun/sh14-e.htm  and http://world.guns.ru/shotgun/sh06-e.htm are in case i’m not near any combines
2:47:51 AM Ben: it may also be a good fertilizer
2:48:01 AM Ben: rotting things do tend to add nutrients to soil
2:48:04 AM Sam: what if it made ZOMBIE CORN?!?!?
2:48:12 AM Sam: children of the corn, indeed
2:48:15 AM Sam: undead children of the corn
2:48:16 AM Ben: BADASS MUCH?!?!?!
2:48:25 AM Ben: weren’t they undead to begin with?
2:48:32 AM Sam: yeah… i think so
2:48:33 AM Sam: dunno
2:48:39 AM Sam: i watched it when i was really little
2:48:41 AM Sam: can’t remember it
2:48:41 AM Ben: SUPERundead children of the corn