Putting myself on a deadline helped me more than any class I have ever taken because repetition is everything.
We all have a friend that chews on their straws. It's one of my more mild pet peeves. It doesn't really affect me with the exception being if someone takes a sip of my drink or I take a sip of theirs. I'm a big straw fan, like huge, I love straws, and seeing them getting mutilated hurts me a little. Not only does a hardy chew change the aesthetics of the straw, making it look all gross, but it actually inhibits the proper flow of liquid from point A (the cup) to point B (your mouth hole). Whenever I notice someone is a straw chewer, regardless of gender, the first thing I think is "Wow, I bet that person sucks dick at sucking dick." Because if someone can't keep a fragile plastic straw intact in their mouth I most certainly will not be putting my penis in that gaping maw full of chompers and grinders. The relationship between your lips and a straw is gentle and lacks teeth. A simple embrace of the lips is enough to create a negative pressure in your mouth which causes the liquid to rise into your mouth. RIP to all the straws that lost their lives to a set of teeth.
Starting a blog is easy. You have all these great ideas and all this energy to write about them and you know that at this rate you could go forever. You're just using the very best stuff you've written and your website looks great. After a while though, like 6 to 8 months in, you start running out of great ideas and you have to start using the ones that originally didn't make the cut. Your work is getting worse and worse and because of your work getting worse and worse you feel even less motivated to create. This is where I am now. The past several weeks-worth of posts have been ones I wrote ages ago that I didn't think were that good. But then a sunday or wednesday rolls around and I have nothing but writers block. This results in having to dig deeper and deeper into my reserves. The posts get shorter and shittier. I just started a new project that can be found on my site, my 100 day film challenge where I plan on creating 100 movie in 100 days. I have a bunch of ideas that I am very happy with but I'm afraid that this same conundrum may ail me in the future. Who knows if its in 80 days or next week.
I plan on making a revival soon. I want my website to be something I am truly proud of, not something I keep up because I want to follow through on my new years resolution. For the next 100 days, My full time job is being my website manager and film director. I am going to read through all my old posts and spell check them and polish them, and will continue to make movies at the rate of one a day. I will get my site polished up as if it has a wedding to attend. Once I get my site to a place I am happy with, I will email all the celebrities and let them know that I am ready to join their ranks.
Soon Stinky Einstein will prove that you can infact polish a turd.
A smoke transfer is when one person takes a hit or a drag of a cigarette or pipe or joint or whatever you happen to be smoking and then exhale the smoke into an other persons mouth. It's an apparently sexy maneuver that is a great excuse to kiss someone. However, I don't smoke so I am missing a huge part of teen shenanigans. That is why I would like to start a new trend called drink transferring. It's when you take a huge sip of a drink, swish it in your mouth a bunch to taste it, then spit it into your friends mouth so he can also taste it. A sexy maneuver for the whole family!
I am staying at my older brothers apartment in San Francisco for a week. I packed all the stuff I would need; clothes, socks, and of course, my chocolate milk powder. I got to his apartment yesterday in the afternoon so I had already had a few glasses of chocolate milk that morning so I didn't feel like I needed anymore that evening. Today however, When I woke up I decided I needed a quick glass. I got a glass, got the powder and then opened up the container. Sitting on top of the chocolatey powder in the container was nothing. There is always a scooper!! ALWAYS! I was petrified. I literally stood there staring at the scoopless container for around 5 minutes. I then looked around my brothers apartment for a scooper that was the same as the one I had. I knew I could just use a spoon, but then the amounts wouldn't be the exact same as what I always have. I always have two level scoops from my scooper. But now my world was thrown into chaos. I had to improvise and use a spoon. I tried to eyeball the amount and was actually pretty close. I then went to grab a straw, which is the utensil I use every time to stir my chocolate milk and then the tool in which I transport the liquid to my mouth. NO STRAWS!!! WHAT KIND OF HOUSEHOLD DOES MY BROTHER LIVE IN!? I was furious and forced to stir with the spoon that I used to scoop my powder. I seriously tried to drink out of the end of the spoon like four or five times because I forgot it wasn't a straw. It was a rough day to say the least. I need an assistant who can go run and find a scooper and straws. And no, chocolate milk is not a code word for cocaine.
The other day I was emptying out a box of recycling into the big recycling bin to take to the curb. I was throwing empty bottles in when I thought about how weird it is that they never break, It seems like throwing a bottle into a pile of a bunch of other bottles should break it. The next bottle I threw into the bin shattered. I realized that yes, the bottles should break, but as long as you believe they won't, then they wont. the next bottle I tried with all my might to believe that it would not shatter and when I threw it in the exact same way I threw in the other, it in fact did not break. The power of belief is an amazing thing.
A while back I decided to go to a performance in the town where I went to school. It was an electronic concert that I knew a lot of my friends would be at so me and a few guys all decided to go. To get in you had to go past a security guard who would pat you down and look inside your hat to make sure you didn't have any weapons or drugs on you. When he put his hands on my torso I tensed up and flexed my chest and abdominal muscles a little. As soon as I walked through I yelled to my friend (becasue the music was too loud) "I just flexed when that guy patted me down!" and he said, "Why? are you gay or something?"
No I am not gay and do not have any other legitimate reasons why I would need to impress this security guard. This brief interaction with a stranger bothered me for some reason. Why did I flex? that has never happened to me. Do I really care that much what a complete stranger thinks of me enough to flex when he touches my stomach?
I love sending people emails. I think they can be funny and you can poke fun of people and things with absolutely zero worries of the ramifications. I recently sent an email to the head of alumni relations at the high school I graduated from asking her to put me onto the list of notable alumni. Here is the Email.
I was recently perusing the Stevenson School website when I noticed something most disturbing; there is no notable alumni section to be found. You are probably curious as to why I am so interested in a notable alumni section of the website, well let me inform you of something. I graduated from Stevenson school last year, which makes me an alumnus. And as if my correct use of the singular form of “alumni” is not proof enough, I want you to know that I am extremely notable. Yesterday I sat and pet my cat for an hour strait (I will have you know that she is very skittish so this is quite the accomplishment) without her leaving. I’d like to see MC Lars do that! I was also recently talking to a large group of people and a handful of individuals in the crowd were jotting down things I said. They were literally taking notes on me because I am so notable (worthy of being noted). Perhaps the most notable thing that I have done is being the catalyst to the Stevenson notable alumni list. This paired with the fact that I am a proud graduate of Stevenson school means that I am in fact a notable alumnus.
The way I see it, there are three ways you can approach this situation:
1. Keep the site the same; with no notable alumni list.
2. Add a notable alumni list and not add me to it.
3. Add a notable alumni list and add me to it.
If scenario number one is the one that plays out, I will understandably be upset. I will most likely be upset for a few years and then forget about it. If situation number two happens, I will be livid. If the third scenario happens, I promise to donate a large sum of money if I do in fact become famous and deserving of being named on the list. If I become legitimately famous first and then you add me to the list, it will be too late. So what you should be weighing in your mind right now is whether or not putting some crazy kid who just graduated on a notable alumni list is worth it. The cons are very small, the pros however are a potentially large donation in the future and knowing that you supported me before I went big. If I go big. Keep up the otherwise great work and I look forward to doing an autograph signing at Stevenson in the future.
If I make the list, you can put “Super duper notable.” Under my name for why I’m so notable, but you have the ultimate say.
She responded about 2 days later and took me far to seriously for it to be funny for me to post the transcript. In essence she told me that they don't have a notable alumni page because they were afraid that people may feel left off of it. I understand this entirely, but they need to understand that If a list is put on the page and I am not on it, there will be hell to pay because I will indeed feel left off of it. Just to be safe, I went to my schools wikipedia page and edited myself into the notable alumni section there.
almost every time I have friends of mine read my blog they ask me how I can come up with a new idea for a blog post twice a week. The answer is that I don't. I don't spend a second of my time thinking about or brainstorming ideas for the website. My process is more like that of a photographer. A photographer carries a camera with them every where they go in the hopes that they might see something that catches their eye. To me and you it may just look like a regular corn field, but to them they recognize that this is a perfect opportunity to take a photo. It's about having the eye, not necessarily thinking about what kind of things you want to shoot. The same goes for me. I carry a pocket sized notebook with me everywhere and when I am in conversation or hear something intriguing that I believe has potential to be written about I jot it down in my notebook. By the end of the week I could have up to 30 new ideas so I simply choose the ones that I like the most and elaborate on them and turn them into a post. It requires little creativity but requires you to really process everything you hear and think about it on a deeper level. I have found that you find conversations more interesting when you try to imagine a way you could write an entire article based off of just one sentence you heard or said.
How many people would it require to kill a horse? the answer is no number, because without weaponry or tools, there is no way to kill a horse if the horse also wants to kill you. You and one friend? forget about it. You and two friends? good luck. You and literally every human being on this continent versus one horse? yah good luck, that horse is still going to buck and trample its way to victory because those things are vicious when they want to be. This being one of the reasons why I hate them. This theory that it is impossible to slay a horse is one that I have been spreading around on my many travels. Sometimes people think they have found out how to defeat an angered horse and because my favorite art form is the strongly worded email, I put my talents to work and let them know why it should be a law rather than a theory. Here is the email I recently sent to a friend.
I was recently talking to my good friend, Austin, when he told me that you had solved the age-old question regarding how many people it would require to kill a horse and if this task is even possible. I am writing you this email to carefully point out why you are not only wrong, but also a complete fucking idiot. If my understanding of your idea is complete and accurate, you think that you can simply ride the horse until it gets too tired to carry you and dies from either natural causes or from your fat ass crushing it’s spine. First off I would like to inquire how you plan on mounting the beast. Not only do I doubt your ability to climb onto a bareback horse while it is calm and ready to be mounted, it also seems like an even more nonviable task when the horse is angered and attempting to take your sorrowful dejected life. To put in bluntly: mounting an angry horse is an insurmountable task. Secondly I would like to point out that thinking that you could ride a murderous horse for long enough to end its life is absolutely ridiculous. Yah, forget about it. I don’t know if you have ever heard of something called a “Rodeo”, but it is a competition where cowboys (who start already on top of the horse) see how long they can stay mounted in a saddle while the horse attempts to wildly buck them off. A very good time for one of these athletes to remain on the horse would be around ten seconds. Now keep in mind that they are not only sitting in a saddle and have something to hold on to, but also have been training their whole life for just that moment. The fact that you think you could ride it long enough for it to die without falling off like the sad sack of potatoes that you are (after somehow mounting the beast) is absolutely asinine.
It hurt me deeply to think that you could be walking around this earth right now thinking that you could have somehow disproved a law of nature; that a horse cannot be killed without weaponry or tools. I though that it was my duty to let you know that not only are you wrong, but you quite possibly came up with the worst answer I have ever heard in my 18 long years on this planet. I hope that your complete and utter stupidity is not affecting your time at new york university and hope to reprimand you to your face soon.
One of the Ideas I had for interesting things to do on my gap year was to completely isolate myself for the entirety of one month. I would most likely take a boat up the lost coast or find some other nature spot to camp out alone for 30 days. I was brainstorming ways to make my trip more interesting and decided that I would not take any books besides empty journals to jot down my thoughts. Another Idea that I ultimately decided against was to get addicted to tobacco cigarettes before hand and then not bring any on my excursion to see how I was affected. The primary reasons to trash that idea were because I didn't want the focal point of the trip to be about addiction and I didn't want to be miserable the whole time. However, on a deeper level I was scared to do it because even with a mandatory detox, I didn't think I would be able to fully quit. I am fairly confident I would seek them out even after not smoking for a month.
I am very strong willed with a lot of things and will persevere through a lot so I thought that quitting smoking wouldn't be hard for me. However, upon deeper thought I realized that I am a very habit forming person. I picked my nose compulsively for years longer than most children did and to this day I still bight my nails and crack my knuckles due to anxiety. I have tried many a time to quit with varying success but in the end I returned to knuckle cracking and my finger nails returned to nothing more than small squares on the tops of my nub-like fingers. I know that cigarets relax you and are a very common outlet for anxiety. That paired with my already addictive personality and a family with a history of substance abuse, I knew that this experiment could only end badly.
I plan on isolating myself to see what the effects of it on someone as extroverted as me would be, but I do not plan on forming an addiction before hand. I plan on keeping my lungs as pure as possible so I can hopefully do some deep breathing exercise while I'm totally freaking out alone on a beach somewhere.
The drive from santa cruz to monterey takes about an hour. You drive through lots of fields where produce is growing and by lots of little buildings on the side of the road where you can buy the produce. One of these locations where you can buy artichokes is called the thistle hut. Outside of the thistle hut is a huge sign that says "The World Famous Thistle Hut!" I actually was not aware that it was world famous. However, this makes it really convenient for me when people from the east coast ask where in California I live. Usually if you say anything other than LA or Santa Barbra they have no idea what you're talking about, but now it's very simple because I can just say that I live about half an hour north of the thistle hut and they should know exactly where I'm talking about. A few years ago I was traveling through Europe and someone noticed I was speaking english and approached me and said "Hello, I noticed you are an american. I have never been to america but hope to one day make a voyage to see the thistle hut. is it as grand as they say it is?" to which I responded "Yes, yes it is." I am so blessed to be fortunate enough to live only half an hour away from the thistle hut and I hope it continues to thrive in the future.
A little more than a month ago I started carrying a pocket sized notebook around with me. This ended up being one of the best decisions of my life. People ask me why I don't just use the notes app on my phone. the answer is that sometimes I do. But when you have something you need to write down but are trapped in a conversation you can't just pull out your phone or the person you are talking too might be offended( I for sure am when I'm talking to someone and they pull out their phone). On the other hand, pulling out a notebook and jotting down some quick notes actually has the opposite effect. Worst case scenario, you get a neutral reaction. I was surprised to find out that usually people are excited that something from our conversation could prompt a note. Also chicks think you're deep as fuck for having a journal on you. Chicks dig thoughtful guys apparently. Who knew?
I hate s'mores. Whenever I say that, I feel like I just said that I support Hitler or something because of the aggressive wave of hate that washes over me for disliking such a mediocre dessert item. But the weird part is that I love marshmallows and graham crackers and Hershey's. It's like when you have a friend who's cool when you're alone but as soon as you're in a group he becomes a dick. It's like, "Hey Mr. mallow, I think you're great, you're a real homie. But when we hang out with hershey and graham you become a total dick." And he's all like, "No man, It's totally cool, you love me when I'm with stick and fire, remember? I become that golden mess that you love so much?" I think about it, he does have a good point. Alright, I'll give him another shot.
But as soon as hershey's and graham get involved, mallow is all like "hey buddy fuck you! you're trying to pinch me off of the stick between the two grahams so you can make a little s'mores sandwich? yah that sounds cool but what if I got all over your fingers and then just tasted really shitty and got all over your face too? How does that sound?"
It infuriates me! "Alright Mr.! Next time I'm hanging around with my friend, hot coco, we're gonna melt you down and basically just use you as additional sugar you filthy dirty piece of ghost crap!"
But my anger never lasts. The next time I see Mallow when its just the two of us I can't resist but to penetrate him with a stick. And then it really starts to heat up. He turns a golden brown and I think I'm in love. Until he burns my mouth, But it's ok, because sometimes the things you love will hurt you the most.
This isn't about nike, this is about me being my own worst enemy when it comes to my pursuit of expanding my realm of creativity from just the written word to other mediums. I let perfect be the enemy of good. For example, I have an idea for a video that will make me famous on the internet (don't doubt me, I'm a super hero) but I won't settle for less than how I have envisioned it. I don't have high quality cameras and I don't have any editing experience so for now, it will have to remain simply a vision in my mind. But rather than actually practicing making videos and getting the hang of the whole editing thing, I just think about how much of a genius I am and how bad I feel for everyone else because they won't be able to experience the video for several more years when I have the proper resources. But that day never comes! I need to just do it. Even if I'm not making THAT video, I can make other ones to hone my craft and learn about cameras. Maybe if it becomes a passion I can invest in a nicer camera. I am letting my vision be a road block rather than a destination. That was the catalyst behind my decision to try to add video to my blog. You may see it here in the near future!
This idea of getting stuck behind your visions is most apparent to me in my desire to make videos but it can happen with anything. Art, exercise, design or any other potential passion. Don't let yourself fall into this trap. If you have a desire to do something then do it, even if it turns out shitty. In the wise words of Jake the Dog, "Sucking at something is the first step to becoming sorta good at something."
One of my friends has a full chest tattoo of a vampire skull with huge wings that spread from pec to pec. It's all colored in and pretty intense. His entire chest is tattooed with the exception of his nipples. His nipples are still nipple colored and normal. It doesn't look funny and most people don't even notice. I want to get a tattoo just like his, but only the missing pieces. I plan on only tattooing my nipples to look like what his nipples would have looked like if he had gotten one hundred percent of his chest done. When we stand next to each other people will wonder why I have weirdly colored nipples until they see him and realize that I am the missing piece. I'll explain how I got a rare nipple disease that my body's immune system was not capable of fighting off, but his was, so we got a nipple transplant. A very simple procedure to any nipple expert. So easy in fact that my brother just did it in my basement with an exact-O knife and super glue.
Now all that is left is to decide if my desire to fuck with people outweighs my desire to not have multi colored nipples....
I have the ability to write a post and have it automatically publish on a date of my choosing. I did this for the past few weeks because I was away working at a summer camp. I don't like scheduling posts as much as I like publishing them by hand on the day I want. It feels so artificial and removed posting five things at once and then not having to work or even look at my site for five weeks. I feel less involved even though it's often less stressful. I missed both the stinky and the Einstein last week because I was away longer than I anticipated and hadn't queued up enough posts. Missing posts does not motivate you to want to write more, which I would expect to be the effect. Missing a post gives you a kind of "Well I missed one so whats missing another one gonna do?" attitude. Just one of the many struggles of having a website. my weeks without missing a post has been reduced back to zero. Here we go.
How can I tell if I have a god complex or if I'm actually a god? In both of these possible scenarios I believe that I am a god. With the first scenario I think that because i'm crazy and with the second one it's because i'm actually a god. How can I tell? At first I thought I must be crazy because I haven't really done anything godly. But then I realized that being a god is not based on accomplishments. hermes was a god and he didn't do shit ever. All he did was fly around and deliver messages to other gods. Where as Steve Jobs had a god complex and did way more than hermes could ever do. He pioneered an empire and was the driving force behind one of the most innovative companies in history. so even though I have only performed a few miracles here and there (you cant prove They didn't happen. Plus, it says they happened in the holy book of Randolph which of course is the truth) so it is still very possible that I might be a god.
I should have put that on my college essays. What college wouldn't want God as a notable alumnus? Seems like a no brainer. So if you want to start worshipping me, join the crowd. And if not, then ill have all my followers bother you about it, which is a fate worse than death.
Penguins have been my favorite animal for a long time. When I was younger I used to draw them on everything. I even had a name for the penguin I used to draw everywhere. His name was Ed the sexually ambiguous penguin, or ESAP for short. I have drawn him thousands of times and own countless articles of clothing depicting penguins. Although I have always loved them, I recently realized that I am very well represented by that animal which only increased how much I enjoy them.
Penguins are goofy. They always look like they're having fun sliding around on the snow and enjoying general jollyness. This would be a relatively lame comparison between myself and penguins if it stopped at being fun loving. However, When you realize that penguins, one of the only flightless birds, who can hardly walk and who dont have any fangs or claws, live in one of the most hostile enviornment known to man you may have a new found respect for them. Even though on the surface they seem to be frolicking gayly, in reality they are in a battle for their lives every day. Although I am a very happy and fun loving person, I had very difficult struggles with both anxiety and depression during my high school career that were very hard to over come. I hid this very well and to most everyone I knew I was just that guy who liked to smile.
Penguins are very habit based, every time the magdalena penguin leave the water to go to its burrow or from its burrow to the water, they take the exact same route. Because they travel between land and sea so frequently the eventually wear their own path that intertwines with that of others (which is a pretty beautiful metaphor for peoples lives but I'm not about cheesy stuff like that) which from the sky looks like a cross section of an ant hill. They have annual routines but are still very fun loving and have time to fit in playing around a very tight schedule which is something that most people struggle with. I strive to model myself after them.
Penguins have a dark side. I find it hilarious that an animal as seemingly innocent as the penguin who is known for it's need for community to survive in the cold winter in a penguin huddle, could possible do anything to betray it;s brothers. However, in order to see if their is danger in the water, sometimes penguins will push other penguins off the ice to see if they are eaten or if the water is safe because they know that you gotta look out for number one first.
Lastly, just look at them. google baby penguins or something, watch march of the penguins, go to a zoo and look at them. what's not to love? penguins are the greatest animal ever and thats that.
We've all heard the expression about not getting into pissing contests. But what does this really mean? I understand what the metaphor is supposed to mean but what would an actual pissing contest entail? Two men standing side by side and seeing who can pee the furthest? Who can pee the longest? Who can drink the most pee without puking? There are infinite different possibilities. However, if I were to start a pissing contest league as an interscholastic sport, here would be the rules.
- Any male student (sorry ladies) can challenge any other male student. The one who is challenged can refuse to duel but then cannot challenge anyone else himself untill he has completed the duel he was challenged too. you can only have one duel hanging over you at once.
- Once you have a partner that you have challenged you line up on the regulation size pissing court. 12 feet long with lines every 4 inches and preferably with a perforated surface that has sufficient drainage.
- Line up on either side of the court facing your opponent with your wiener out and your toes behind the line. Any infractions would result in a penalty.
- When the duel begins, niether competitor can move his feet until both competitors have said the word "advance." Every time you move up a line you can signal to move forward again or not. You must not move forward until your competitor has also echoed your call.
- The point of the game is to be able to hit your opponent with your pee stream. The trick is to not shoot to early and be out of range, but you don't want to wait to long and get hit first.
- The round is over once a pee stream has connected with the shoes of the opponent for 1 second. Then they can jump back. But they still lose.
The only part of your body that has to be behind the line is your feet, which can not move. You can thrust your hips forward for extra distance though and tug and pull on yourself however much you like. However, there are several rule violations that result in automatic disqualification. These include:
- Stepping over the line prematurely.
- moving your feet once you have been set behind a line.
- getting a boner.
- dodging a pee stream.
The penalties for these respectively are:
- once the game is over the opponent is allowed to move up one line from where the game ended and take a free rebuttal shot. The outcome of the game doesn't change but pissy shoes is just a good punishment.
- The same penalty as #1
- A slap to the face. Can't be present at competitions for a month.
- You automatically lose and the winner gets to pee on your shoes for 2 seconds.