I am embarrassing

This has been an extraordinarily hectic and awesome week. It all started on Sunday.*

I did standup comedy for the first time. In hindsight, I can’t even remember why I decided to do it. I had been aware of an upcoming standup comedy competition for a while, and I knew I would attend, but at some point I entered myself in it. And that was one of the coolest decisions ever, as it turned out. I stole jokes I had already written from this blog** and thought about how I could say them on stage so as to be funny– oftentimes entertaining written work is not as entertaining if read aloud. I told a lot of my friends I would be performing, and a bunch came. In fact, the entire third floor of Prettyman Hall came to see me. They alone took up four rows of the audience. And I did well. My energy onstage and my jokes and my impromptu karaoke of Ke$ha’s “We R Who We R” got the crowd laughing and feeling all happy inside. There was a later part of the event with an intermission, and they played music to keep the crowd entertained during the wait. The song playing was “Sexy and I know it” by LMFAO. Being a chipper fellow, I got up and started dancing! The crowd enjoyed that as well. A few people in the crowd joined me, which was awesome. I finished the event in second place, out of ten entrants. Not bad for my first time doing standup comedy. Also not bad was the fact that I beat last year’s competition winner, who was hilarious. He got in third. My friends picked me up and carried me outside the building, cheering.

So that was how my week started.

I decided to go to Susquehanna for dinner the next day. I went there right after going to zumba, which is always a great way to put back on the calories you just worked off from exercising. I saw a friend there, and I sat next to him. Actually, I saw a bunch of friends, but I sat with this guy because he was sitting alone, and that would be a nice friend-thing to do. By the way, that’s how I treat my friends: by doing friend-things with/for them. If anybody asks what me and my friends do, that’s my answer… friend-things.

So I sit with my buddy and we both point out that in the large, crowded room, there are a lot of people we know. So we have a competition to count how many people we see there that we know. Luckily for me, more and more people I had met before kept coming in. My pal ended up with about 12 people counted, and so I won, seeing more than 20 people I had met before. And this happened because Towson, for all the tens of thousands of students that go here, has a small-town feel. And that’s totally gnarly. There should have been a prize for me recognizing more people. I always want more physical representations of my accomplishments.

And as I was sitting in Susq, I got to see someone doing pullups at the gate. See, it was just about closing time, so the employees were lowering the gate to close up. However, the gate broke and the guy trying to pull it down jumped up to try to pull it down harder, by putting his entire body weight on it. It didn’t work. And if it had, he probably would have hurt himself. I really wish I had this on video or had a picture of it. It would be as iconic as this photo of a student’s car parked on campus:

I was at zumba the other day having fun as I always do at zumba, but the person next to me, in the middle of the dance we were doing, told me that I am embarrassing. Maybe it was because I did one of my special signature moves. Or maybe it is because I am a frighteningly-thin twenty-year-old man with a huge beard dancing in a giant room full of fifty young girls trying to learn sexy moves. Maybe that is what was embarrassing.

I went to an RA interest meeting the other day. You know what that means, world? I am applying to be an RA! I asked one of my coworkers the other day what she thought my chances would be, because it is a highly competitive job, and she said, “Well, you’re a guy. Oh, and you’re a guy! You’re also a guy! Did I mention you are a guy?” I think my coworker was exaggerating. In any case, I’m pretty confident and excited about it. It would be a nice step up from my current position in the department. Hopefully I’ll be addressing noise complaints before I know it.

*As weeks usually do.

**So I didn’t really steal them.

THESE ARE MY SHOES!

In one of my dance classes, we are required to wear a special pair of shoes that is dedicated to indoor-only use. I was doing a good job keeping up with this, bringing my super shoes into class each day, but today I was given an unexpected challenge. I woke up and got ready for this 8 AM class as I usually do but could not find my shoes, nor could I find the drawstring bag I use to carry them! And then I freaked out. I had no choice but to go to class with my indoor and outdoor-use shoes, AKA my sneakers that I wear every day and would be acceptable enough for the class. I was hoping that I could get away with wearing shoes that had minor dirt-stains on the bottom. I was worried and upset. Would I ever see my precious indoor-only shoes again? Had I lost them forever?

I went to the class and told one of my classmates what happened. She said, “Dude.” I started unpacking my things and putting them to the side, where there are these shelves. I put my things into one of them and feel my usual grief. Then I happen to look slightly over onto one of the shelves and there I saw a bag remarkably similar to the one I had been using to carry my shoes. However, I took this sight with a pinch of salt* because the bag I used was mass-produced and given out for free to every student at my school, so a lot of people have it. I opened the bag anyway, and inside were my shoes. I screamed, “These are my shoes!” in such a way that Kyle Cease would be proud. Then I put them on and was ready to go before class started.

This shoe adventure made me happy. I was pretty bummed that my shoes had gone missing, but apparently I had just forgotten to take them out of the class two days ago, when the class last met. Being disappointed and then recovering my shoes made me happier than I would have been if I had just had my shoes all along.

Interestingly, I have another dance class in the exact same room as this one, and I was in it yesterday. It is a little funny that I didn’t notice my very own bag and shoes there until I returned to the room this morning, but whatever. I got ‘em back.

I am in a poke war on Facebook with one of my coworkers. I can tell that she is slacking off because I know that she is at work right now, and she is still poking me back. I think that means I won? I don’t know. Poking is probably the stupidest feature ever invented on Facebook.

Sorry, that wasn’t such a great story. I just wanted to mention that I outwitted my coworker.

I’m doing my first-ever standup comedy act tonight. I hope it’s going to go well. I don’t know if I’m funny. I’m basically just going to read my blog posts verbatim for about an hour, and that will be my act. I’m just kidding. But I am pulling jokes from this blog and I am going to be ready to spread the laughs. If I tell a joke that nobody laughs at, which I think is likely, I’m going to say, “That wasn’t funny,” and then go right into my next joke. I hope I will be funny though. Some people tell me I am completely hilarious. I don’t think that’s true, but we’ll see.

Basically, I just want to win, so that I can perform again for a big-name comedian, who in this case is Eddie Griffin, a movie-actor comedian who most-famously starred in Undercover Brother, an awesome movie. So I’m inviting all of my friends to vote for me, because it is a competition I am entering, and I want to win. More friends = more likely to win. My biggest fear is that the other entrants will actually be funny. Also, I have a few other fears. One is that I will lose because many of my friends have said they want to leave right after I have gone on, because they don’t really care about the rest of the event. If more than a few of my friends leave before the end, they won’t be able to vote for me and I’ll end up losing. Certainly everyone is allowed to do as they please, and I am thankful that my friends are even showing up, but I do wish they would support me (which is pretty easy, just staying for the whole show) as well.

Hey, is it obvious that I’m getting nervous?!

A couple days ago I was talking to a coworker and she said she was bored at work, so she conceived this wonderful idea to make a big poster to hang up right at the entrance of the building, so that all 160 or so people who live here will have to see the sign as they come in. This big poster did nothing else but advertise my performance tonight and encouraged everyone to come see it. It’s amazing how many people have failed to notice it, because it seems impossible to miss, but that’s okay! I know a lot of friends are coming, and that’s what’s important.

Not that my performance tonight matters too much. It will be fun and a good experience. But I don’t especially want to be a standup-comedian or anything. I am just a major attention-whore who loves to be in front of everyone and meet famous people. So tonight I will get to satisfy my silly little desires. I can’t wait.

*Whatever that means.

Awesome Post

I have been telling people lately that they are the “bomb.” I don’t know how I have gotten into the habit of doing such a thing. I’m pretty sure nobody has said, “That’s the bomb!” in a good decade or so. And, sometimes I specialize my compliments when I’ve been saying “the bomb” and I’ll instead say, “You’re the bomb dot com!” I don’t even know if people like being compared to nonexistant websites. But it is supposed to be nice.

Excuse me, I just fact-checked a bit and there is a “thebomb.com” website. I won’t link to it because it was stupid. It was a picture of an Asian subway sort-of-place with links to some random guy’s other websites. It was very boring. I’m going to save you the trouble right now. Don’t go.

I love dancing and my dance class, but there is this one twenty-something dude in my class who really ruins the experience. He is balding and has a lot of muscle and stuff. He’s an alright guy, but he just doesn’t appreciate dance. And he is the only other guy in my class of 23 people. So the other 21 are girls, most of whom are awesome. Hearing this guy complain all through the class is really bothersome. I was talking to him today and he said that he always imagines if his buddies were to see he was in the class, they would all make fun of him. I said, “Dude, you need to be a lot less self-conscious!” You can never make too many friends, because everyone is different. Even some of my very own friends tease me for being a dancer, but I have more friends, men and women, who absolutely love it and admire me for pursuing what I enjoy, even with it being against social norm. So I could see his point, but furthermore, his friends are actually not there judging him, and never will be. The only people who are judging him are people like me, who want to enjoy the wonderful world of dance. His attitude reflects a lack of respect for what I think is the world’s greatest artform.

That’s okay, though. People are different, and even though this dude is very different from me, that doesn’t mean he is a bad person or that my life will be any worse because of him. In fact, every person is a potential friend, for you to learn from and appreciate and enjoy. And those feelings are mutual among friends… That’s why we make friends with each other in the first place!

I actually had a valentine this past Valentine’s Day! Well, that isn’t really true. What really happened is that I got a valentine on the day after Valentine’s Day. Okay, that didn’t happen either. So here’s what really went down: I spent my Valentine’s Day without much special going on, but I didn’t feel bad about it or anything. Valentine’s Day is just another holiday, like Easter or Columbus Day. Just spend the day loving and appreciating yourself and everyone you know. That’s the real way to celebrate it. At some point in time, it became about being in a relationship with somebody, which isn’t necessary.

And if you do want to have a relationship, go ahead and use Valentine’s Day as an excuse for a date. Go up to a pretty girl or handsome guy you know (or even one you don’t know) and say, “Hey, Valentine’s Day is coming up and I don’t have a valentine. Want to do [insert date here]?” As a guy, I can say with honesty that a girl will gush about a question like that, especially the “insert date here” part, and if a girl were to ask me such a thing, I would be really happy to oblige. It sounds too easy. And it is– the hardest part is mustering up your courage and allowing yourself to be humbled if that person says no. But the point of the holiday is to love, not to be in love, so don’t sweat it if you don’t have a valentine.

Man oh man, have I digressed! So here’s what happened: I got my valentine on the day after the holiday when I went to class in the morning. I sit next to a nice girl-acquaintance person. I guess I could also call her my friend, if you prefer easier-to-understand vernacular. So I asked my friend how her day went and she said it was bad because she didn’t have a valentine. Then we almost automatically became each other’s valentine. It was actually more of a joke than anything. But that’s the whole point! Enjoy Valentine’s Day and loving people, and tell people you appreciate them. There is a lot of joy to be had in doing so.

Sometimes people ask me, “Why do you write this blog?” Okay, that was a lie, nobody asks me that. But I feel like writing about it, so I am going to. This blog’s purpose is twofold: it lets me practice my skills, such as in writing and meeting deadlines, and it functions as a record of all the awesome stuff in my awesome life. One of my heroes, Shay Carl, said, “If life is worth living, it’s worth recording.” When I first heard that, which was before I worshipped Shay religiously, I thought, Nah… But it really is. In a journal, or a public blog, or anything, you can record your life. That is a wonderful thing to do. There are a lot of reasons why. Memory is one. I can’t remember what I was doing every day of last week. And I certainly don’t remember what was going with me two weeks ago. Asking about what I did sometime last year is totally out of the question– I have no idea. As we move on in our lives, we easily come to forget our past.

Knowing the past is really important. If we keep track of our thoughts at certain stages in our lives, we can look back and see what we used to think. Sometimes, we can re-learn fundamentals we have forgotten about. It is worth remembering what happens to us. When I am 72-years-old, I’ll bet that I will want to remember why I thought my life was awesome at age 20. And if I start losing my sanity or something in those years, I’ll be able to look back and remember the awesome person that I was, and probably rediscover what made me awesome as well. When my parents tell me stories, I always hear the same ones over and over. I think each time, You guys are thirty years older than me. How come you don’t have 30-years-worth of stories to tell? They do, though, but can’t remember, and therefore can’t share them.

I mean, if I didn’t write my life down, I would never remember how cool it was when I was at a tennis match in eleventh grade, and I asked out five hot girls at once while I was wearing an eyepatch. Okay, so I never wrote that down, but I do remember it pretty clearly because I was awesome.

Another important reason about recording your life is sharing it. Another thing the amazing Shay Carl said was that people like watching other people. When your friend tells you any kind of story, you enjoy hearing it. You can appreciate it, learn from it, value it, or whatever else. You are taking in information and it is up to you how you want to use it.

Okay, this blog post is getting long. Ending now.

Justin Bieber should grow a beard

I’m taking a capoeira class and it is pretty darn cool. I’ve never done martial arts, but I’ve been dancing for a couple years and I’m a big fan of literally just moving around. However, even though I love dance and movement so much, the class, which itself was designed to be similar to dancing, it is not always fun. I will tell you why: last time when I went to class we were doing a cartwheel-like maneuver and I ripped a big hole right in the back of my pants. The funny part is that I didn’t notice until the very end of class. I hadn’t heard any “rip” noise or anything like that. As soon as I realized it happened, I told one of my friends. She told me that she had noticed it, and I found out several other people in the class had too. I guess it was nice of them to say nothing, rather than pointing and laughing at me right in the middle of class. It was a cold day so I wore a sweatshirt to class. So now that I had a big hole in the back-center of my pants, I tied my sweatshirt around my waist like it was the ’90s again. Of course, it was still cold out when class had ended so I was chilly going to my next class, because I was not wearing my sweatshirt correctly. Fortunately, when I got to my next class, there was a building-wide fire drill, so I got to go back outside again and stand there. And I had another class right after that class, so I had to keep walking with my waist-tied sweatshirt through the cold weather. I reach my final class of the day and lo and behold, there is a fire drill in this building, too. The scenario from before repeats. When this class ends, I finally get to go home and change my pants. Mission accomplished.

I went to the bookstore the other day and saw a big section dedicated to one certain book. I can’t remember the title of it. That’s not important, though, because the only need-to-know piece of information in this story is that the book was written by Justin Bieber! Yes, the kid-friendly singer has written a book. I opened it, and it was filled with creepy high-quality photos of J-Bieb’s eyes piercing into my soul. Believe it or not, there were words in the book, too, proving that the boy can write. I read a few sentences and declared it a really boring book. It was written in the style of a memoir, like how this site is, except it lacked things like humor, satire, social commentary, and insight. And that made it extremely boring. The parts I read could have been written by anybody– the information was not enhanced just by being written by Bieber.

So I was featured as a prominent “sexy single” at my college recently in the school newspaper. I went in for a photoshoot and had to answer some questions which would be published in the paper and online. The section was called “Towson’s Most Elgible” and the misspelled “elgible” was featured as prominently as the sexy singles who are apparently at my school. In the main picture for the photoshoot, I posed holding a pint of Stephen Colbert’s Americone Dream, an ice cream flavor. That earned me brownie points among nerds and cool people. I also did a picture that was like this:

And here is a copy of the questions I was given, and my answers to them:

Describe your sex life in one syllable.

Ehhh

Finish this sentence, “Roses are red, violets are blue…”

I’m sexy and I know it.

What would your Spice Girl name be?

Old Spice

What would you do for a Klondike bar?

Whatever you want me to do.

Top or bottom?

Bikini Bottom

What animal were you in a past life?

A bear because I was in your love cave.

What candy are you most like?

Peanut M&Ms because I have nuts.

Who are you voting for in the 2012 election?

Stephen Colbert

What’s your biggest turn on and turn off?

Biggest turn on: If she’s stronger than me.
Biggest turn off: Exit 78 on the highway

What’s your most embarrassing moment?

The day I was born. Nobody could stop staring at me. And I was like, “Something on my face?” And they were like, “Whoa, a talking baby.”

If you could be stuck on an elevator with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?

Paris Hilton. Because everyone knows…

What’s your jam?

Evolution of Dance

What gives you goosebumps?

Pretty girls.

Would you rather listen to Justin Bieber or Nickleback for 24 hours straight?

Justin Nickleback and his hit single “Baby Rockstar”

What’s your favorite hashtag?

#TowsonGirlProbz

If you were president of Towson University, what would you do?

Give myself a raise… if you know what I mean.

If you had to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, who would it be?

Batman. He gets to be a BA at night and he gets the ladies in the day.

What couldn’t you live without, your cell phone or Facebook?

I have real friends.

What’s your most successful pickup line?

Everybody look at me!

What is the key to your heart?

Blood and all that stuff.

Why are you Towson’s Most Eligible?

I’m a cute guy and a good dancer.

The first few words to come to mind

Today is a Friday. All the ten people who read my blog posts are probably in shock that I am publishing this post on a Friday. Because my schedule is to put up new content* on Thursdays and Sundays, and I have missed a day. Please forgive me. Actually, even the ten to twenty-ish people who read my blog each time I update it probably don’t follow it religiously enough to have even noticed that I Thursdays and Sundays are my update-days. Oh well. I shouldn’t have even said anything. Oh gee. Now I’m going to live in regret for the rest of this blog post.

So my lunch today was Poptarts, chicken tenders, Doritos, and Gatorade. It was filling. Some people criticize me for the food I eat. Those people are probably used to gaining weight and getting sick and stuff. I’m too cool to gain weight or get sick. I think those activities are stupid, so I eat what I want!

I’m taking a capoeira class and it’s the first class I’ve ever had where I was forced to buy special shoes. That doesn’t sound too unreasonable, but the instructor is fairly obsessed with using “indoor-only” shoes, so everybody had to buy a new pair. I was so, so hesitant to go out to the mall just to buy some shoes, especially because I had already bought a new pair fairly recently. Every time I almost stepped out the door, I turned right back around and said, “No, I do not feel like walking to the shoestore in the mall.” Then I would think about how I had no other choice, and I would go towards the door again. And repeat. I guess I’m just a big lazy oaf… who dances.

I went and I found some cheap shoes, and there was a sale, and I ended up buying two pairs of shoes and spending $20. Pop quiz: what kind of sentence did I just write? A run-on sentence! Good job.

My journalism teacher was reviewing the lead sentence of a hard news story recently and she used a term that I hadn’t heard before. She said we have to get right to the BAM! And every time she said it, she made a BAM sound. It was a very onomatopoeic presentation. Sometimes she would further increase emphasis on the importance of the BAM by saying baBAM instead, adding a short and powerful “ba” to beginning of the BAM. Thanks, professor. I know a lot more about jouralism now. Explosions, too.

Rebecca Black. Lady Gaga called her a genius. If she is a genius, then I must be completely freaking stupid. Why would I ever think that the key to success is from getting an education and working hard? I had no idea that I could have just sung a terrible song at the age of 14 and had a career in singing more terrible songs. We should all copy this girl. It’s too late for me, but when I have kids I am going to have them sing the stupid songs I can write everyday. I will save money by not paying for vocal lessons and use the money I save to buy a good-quality camera to shoot a music video, and the fame will start rolling in.**

I was talking with my friends about Sesame Street the other day, and one of them said that it went off the air, and has been off for quite some time. But I remember that there was a recent episode of Sesame Street that got pulled from the air. It featured two things: one was Katy Perry, and the other was Katy Perry’s cleavage. Moms got angry, and the episode was pulled. I guess if that was close to the end of the series, you could say that Katy Perry and her inevitable sex-appeal killed Sesame Street.

So I just got a comment on one of my old Youtube videos. It was a humorous presentation in which I describe the life of knights and the chivalric code they followed. This comment was from a student who explained that his or her teacher sent my video to the class to help them study the subject. Now, I actually showed this video I made to my own class when I was a student-teacher, but it’s hilariously awesome that other teachers are also using this for their students.

*Some people call it crud, but I call it content.

**Sorry, I just felt like writing a joke. Rebecca Black is cool.

Life

Usually when I’m writing a blog post here on “The Adventures of Squirrel’s Life”, it covers the random thoughts that I spontaneously have while I’m writing. Sometimes, however, this blog does actually cover the titular “adventures” of my life. I’ve been doing a lot of things lately, so, with only a little bit of further ado, please enjoy some of these stories about my life over the past three days. This is a sentence. I wrote that last sentence so that I could have some more ado than the usual writer. A lot of writers prefer their stories without much ado, but I’m a maverick and I will have a lot of ado if I feel like it.

Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t really have much going on that I haven’t already written about. It feels like a lot, though, so I am going to write about it AGAIN. And IN MORE DETAIL. And featuring MORE CAPITAL LETTERS THAN REQUIRED.

I recently entered a contest of sorts that my school’s newspaper is holding. You submit a questionairre about goofy love questions and the newspaper decides if you are good enough to be featured in their article. They highlight the best and most interesting single-people with the intent that they will be able to find true love. So like I said, I entered this and I found out yesterday that I was one of the people chosen. Now I have to do a photoshoot and also a video interview. I’m worried that my beard will be too attractive for the newspaper and its website to contain.

I have been aware of an upcoming standup comedy competition later this month. As a rather avid comedy-fan-person, I planned on going as soon as I heard about it. However, and I can’t remember why I did this, I recently decided to enter into the competition myself. I inquired about it, and I was asked shortly afterwards to submit a video of some of my material in order for the coordinators of the event to ensure that I am “semi-funny.” So I sat in my room and made a quick Youtube video, simply reading off my blog posts as my ”jokes”. I got an email the next day telling me I was accepted into the competition. I then was asked to provide some fun facts about myself for a program that will go along with the show. My fun facts included dressing as a female stripper last Halloween and being a fan of the Pokemon Trading Card Game. I suppose that means I’m an interesting guy. In any case, I will be doing my first-ever standup comedy performance soon. This is kind of a big deal for me, especially because I want to win, which means I have to be funny. Or have the most friends in attendance who will vote for me. The winner will open for the renowned actor and comedian Eddie Griffin the week after. That’s really cool, and I would love to do it. My biggest fear is that the other “comedians” will actually be funny.

My school had a major event last night and they held a bunch a random activities in the main building on campus. There were a lot of expectable festivities, like karaoke, a mechanical bull, and minute-to-win-it stuff. That was cool and all, but there was one particularly interesting thing that was not very expected. And that was getting to see live, exotic animals run around the building. There was an exasperatingly long and uncomfortable line for it, but there was a presentation to see some random animals, and seeing animals in any setting besides a zoo is pretty neat. For example, I got to witness a kangaroo hop all around. And there was a lemur that climbed all over people. And a gigantic owl. The only thing that could have made this any better would be if they loosed the animals around the whole building, rather than just one big room.

My friends and I have an annual tradition where we go to the Melting Pot. Most of us have January or February birthdays so we all get together and celebrate each year. Even though this is only our second year. I’m not a very big fan of restaurants, especially the more-expensive ones, but we go straight to the dessert, which is multiple pots of melted chocolate in various flavors, and it is strangely awesome. That keeps it fun and from being too expensive.

So last night I saw someone get hit by a car. Sorry to throw a damper on your evening (or afternoon, or whenever you are reading this), but I did give a disclaimer at the beginning of this post that it would be about actual adventures rather than the usual simple stuff I think about. My friends and I had gone for a late-night 7-11 run, an activity which we regularly engage in, and on the way back, we hear a big BANG* right behind us. Turning around, it was obvious what had happened. There isn’t too much else I can say, except that it was bad. And that was what concluded my night, which had been pretty nice until then. Sometimes, this kind of thing happens in life, so it’s imperative to enjoy everything you have as you have it. You can never know what you’ll be missing the next day.

*I told you there would be more capital letters than required.

Single Comedian

I just started a bunch of new classes at school. They’re all cool, but one of them stands out from the rest, and it’s all because of the professor. That would be my professor Peter Lev, who is special because he sounds exactly like Ray Romano. I couldn’t stop thinking that for the whole time on my first day of his class. We also watched Bladerunner, which is a good way to spend college.

My school newspaper has this debatably stupid thing that they do around Valentine’s Day each year. In any case, I entered it. You are asked a bunch of dumb questions about love and other things, and they’ll pick out those who came up with the best answers and will publish them in the newspaper. I cheated and asked my sagest lady friends for some advice on what to answer, but it was all genuine. I’ll repost some of my answers if they’re published. Some were really dirty. Well, in comparison to my usual cleanliness.

Basically, every person whose information is published for this school newspaper is getting to freely shout out “I’m single and desperate” to all the rest of campus. I’m pretty sure that this is exactly how I should be spending my Valentine’s Day.

One of my friends was on Google Earth today and searched for “Your Mom”. And he actually found it; apparently, there is a business known as “your mom,” or so he said surpisingly. His surprise made it seem so much more realistic. Fortunately for me, I don’t fact check, so I am just going to assume he wasn’t making it up. I responded to him that there is a city in Turkey called Batman, which is completely true. There is also a city in the US called Metropolis, where every building and place is dedicated to Superman.

I was boasting to a friend of mine that you can type any of the randomest things into the search bar of this site and find it mentioned in one of my many posts. So I tried that out, and my friend said “pineapples.” But I’ve never written about them before, so my friend laughed at me. But now, I have written about pineapples, just two sentences ago, and that problem is now fixed.

As I’m typing this, I’m sitting in the lobby of the building I work in and it’s dark out. There is a wall of windows and the lighting made the reflections of the people behind me really clear. If you’ve ever seen a wall of mirrors, you know that they make the room look a lot bigger than it is, and also makes it look like there are more people in the room than there are. So I was looking at this reflective window and I saw someone wave. I waved back. However, they weren’t in that direction. They were waving in the direction I was facing to someone who was sitting is front of me, facing the other way. It made perfect sense to the two of them. But I waved back to a person’s reflection who wasn’t even waving to me in the first place.

I live in a big, tenement-like building and we have public bathrooms here. I just went in to use the toilet, as a person often does when they go into a bathroom, and a person I know was already in there shaving. I didn’t really care so I went into the stall and began to do my business. Then he started to saying my name, “Squirrel”, in a rhythmic and musical way, fluctuating his voice and enunciating the syllables to create a melodic tune to nothing more than the sound of my name. So I was sung to in the bathroom. I think this is the first time I can ever say that’s happened. It was beautiful and flattering while also being completely freaking weird.

I think I mentioned in my last blog post that I am considering getting some of my jokes together and doing standup comedy. Since I wrote that, I have entered into a standup comedy competition that’s being held at my school. The winner of the competition will open for Eddie Griffin later on. He’s an actor and comedian who I know best as Undercover Brother. It’s really exciting in a dangerous kind of way. Because I might suck. I’m already popular, so I have a lot to lose. What if my friends renounce me if I’m not funny enough? Honestly, that irrational worry is the only thing I’m actually concerned about for this competition, and it wouldn’t even happen. Your real friends are never going to desert you. So if I end up making a fool of myself on stage, I’ll be okay. Also, I am going to end up KICKING BUTT on stage, so I’ll be more than okay. I’ll be a total champion.

A story about the opera

Hey I forgot I was supposed to write another blog post today and so I’m writing it right now. Good thing I write about random stuff that isn’t important. If I actually served some useful purpose with this blog, it would surely be much harder to write.

I bought one of the Guild Wars 2 novels today. I feel like a nerd, but that’s alright. That’s just the feeling you get when you cross over to other media in the things you like. As I was checking out, the calmest-voiced man I have ever heard was at the cash register. I have never felt so safe around another human being because of their voice. He looked like Howie Mandel, but definitely wasn’t. Anywhoozles, I’m hoping I enjoy this book. I’ve never been such a fan of fantasy novels or novels based on video games, but Guild Wars is the game I have played more than any other in my entire life, and even though many people obsess over the game far more than I do, I feel like I ought to give myself something Guild-Warsy to do while I’m awaiting Guild Wars 2.

I heard somebody say “prima donna” the other day. I first heard that term as a kid and for the longest time I thought people were saying “pre-Madonna.” So I thought that when someone was described as a “prima donna” it was like someone was praising them for being cool before Madonna was, as if to imply Madonna was just some copycat who stole a whole bunch of great ideas. So if Madonna did something cool, everyone who had been doing that cool thing already was a “pre-Madonna.” I did some research on the term “prima donna” to enhance my awareness of it, and even though the most common definition is basically “a conceited jerkface,” a prima donna is also known as the lead female singer of an opera. The male lead singer has an even more fun name, the prima uomo.

Here’s a story about my experience with the opera: I almost went to an opera last year, but I didn’t.

I didn’t say it was going to be a very good story.

So I have a beard. This is nothing new to me, as I have had it for three months now. However, I have been seeing a lot of old friends lately and all have said, in this order, “Hello. OH MY GOSH LOOK AT YOUR BEARD.” I am rather used to seeing my super beard, but I guess no one else in the world is, and it is the number one thing people have been saying to me. I feel like my life would be nothing without my beard. Some people dislike it, but if I got rid of this beard, what would I be? A bare-chinned normal guy who doesn’t garner extra attention because of an absurd amount of facial hair, that’s who! And I don’t know how I could live that way, even though I generally have for most of my life.

Beards are actually an interesting thing. As a bearded person, people often tell me that I look like other people they are aware of who have beards. Which is interesting, because I actually don’t. Or, as my bearded uncle, who people have also been comparing me to, said, “All men with beards look alike.” And I suppose that’s true. It isn’t true, but people will see that as the truth. If I were to shave my beard off, I would look nothing like the people that I am often told I look like. I suppose that means that having a beard makes a man’s face look much more universal and unidentifiable. In fact, that is definitely the case, because some of my friends and family no longer recognize me now that I have this thing.

I wonder what would happen if Madonna grew a beard. She probably could.

I really have to go the bathroom

Good afternoon. Well, I say good afternoon but that is only the time it is where I am. For all I know, you could be reading this in the morning, evening, at night, or during some more specific time of day, such as 6:37 P.M. However, I am still going to say good afternoon to you, because looking down at my own personal clock, of which I have several on me at all times, like any normal person, the time is in the afternoon. I know that I don’t like to lie, so it would be lying for me not to say good afternoon to you. I have no other choice. Alternately, if today was not a very good afternoon for me, then I would be lying to you if I were to say good afternoon. Actually, that might not be true. Because I just realized that I don’t have a clue what the phrase “good afternoon” means. I think there needs to be some kind of article in front of the phrase to specify the actual meaning of it. For example, moments ago, on this good afternoon, I thought that saying “good afternoon” meant that the person who said it is having a good afternoon and is attempting to share the good-afternoon-iness by saying “good afternoon.” But without some beginning clause for the phrase, it actually is very ambiguous and open to interpretation. Here are some other things that the phrase could mean:

“I want you to have a good afternoon.”

“I am having a good afternoon.”

“This sure is a good afternoon, isn’t it?“

“Are you having a good afternoon?“

“Please, for the love of goodness, tell me what it means when I say good afternoon.”

I think that I will no longer be able to trust any person who says “good afternoon” to me from now on. If someone says that to me, I will stare them down until they say something else or walk away uncomfortably. But that is how it must be, for when a person says the words “good afternoon” without any preceding words in their communication, you cannot actually know what they really mean. Unless you can communicate telepathically, which I think should become the new norm for social interaction. It would be a great replacement for texting.

So I’m thinking about collecting some of my best jokes and using them in a standup comedy act. Literally, that’s what I’m currently thinking about. A few minutes ago, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind but as I was LQTMing* to myself a few sentences ago, I thought, Hey I’m sometimes a little bit funny on here. And as a person who watches a lot of live standup, I would like to further sharpen the line between good comedians and bad ones, because there are way more bad comedians than good ones, although the bad ones will often switch careers before embarassing themselves too much.

However, some good comedians are bad comedians. Don Rickles posted a tweet earlier today, and this is what it said: “Flying with bad turbulence is rough. I was in the 5th row having coffee, next thing I knew I was having coffee in the co-pilot seat!”

I saw that tweet and LQTMed.* That joke is not very funny, but it is a little bit funny. And somehow the lack of funniness makes things funnier. As an example, when a person does something annoying, it will just be annoying, but eventually people will start laughing at how annoying it is.

A more specific example: Norm Macdonald made a joke about how murder victims are always found in the woods in what is described as a “shallow grave.” He then said, “That’s now how I would do it at all. If I were to kill someone,” and then went on for several minutes about his exact plan about he would commit a murder. At the end of that he said, “And then I would bury them in the woods in a very, very, very, very deep grave.” His plan on how he would murder someone was given in great detail, but contained no humorous elements. However, if he didn’t say it, then how he ended the joke would not be funny at all. As a matter of fact, no part of the joke would be funny. It would just have been sad and strange to bring up in the middle of a standup comedy act.

So, again, things not being funny creates potential for enjoyment later on. It’s a very interesting aspect of how the human mind works.

Yeah, I can’t think of anything else, so I’m just going to end the blog post now. I also really have to go the bathroom.

*LQTM: Laughing quietly to myself. This joke property of Demetri Martin.

Face Punch=Happiness

Ugh. Gee. So it’s Thursday. That means time for another new blog post. Man…. I don’t want to write a blog post. Well I guess I don’t have to if I don’t want to. You know, this is making me wonder, why do I even write a blog anyway? Only a small few people actually read it, and most people come across it with keywords like “fat cat” and “paris hilton sex tape” because that’s the lovely kind of content contained within my blog posts. I wonder if I should try making my blog more kid-appropriate. Because I don’t know if a kid could handle seeing or reading about a fat cat that I posted a while ago. It might traumatize them.

Actually, I feel like I could show this blog to anybody. I’m just so amiable! Reading one of my blog posts is like smacking yourself in the face with a dandelion. Dandylion? How about we go with tulip instead because my speller (aka brain) isn’t working with me right now on how to spell flower names.

By the way, there’s a real dandy lion to the right:

Shout out to borogove13 of Deviantart!

Smacking people in the face reminds me of something. I remember a group activity I had to do earlier this year as part of training for a job where I would be doing something totally unrelated to this particular training exercise. That might not be true, but in hindsight I can’t quite recall the exact purpose of that activity.

So are you dying to know what the activity was yet? I bet you are!! Because you surely have nothing better to do if you’re actually taking time out of your day to read the garbage that I put on the Internet. I’ll tell you all about the activity… eventually.

First I want to discuss the important issue of tickets to see celebrities performing live. Demetri Martin, my favorite standup comedian, is doing a show on his new tour next month near me, and I really want to go, but each ticket is $50. Remember, I’m a broke college student. I guess that’s why I have student loans– so I can spend them on seeing performers. Of course, it would also probably be expensive as all else to even get to where his show is located. It’s in D.C. and the last time I went to that stupid city where the president lives, I spent just over a hundred dollars. That was worth it, though, because I got to see Stephen Colbert when I went. Best day of my life.

Okay, so I don’t like when people say that their wedding is the best day of their life. I feel like that’s such a guessable thing to say. If I want my wedding to be the best day of my life, then I’m going to have to get married at a reenactment of Stephen Colbert’s and Jon Stewart’s Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Because that was the best day of my life, and I don’t really think it could be topped, not even by a beautiful woman in a pretty dress who kisses me on the lips and pledges her services to me for eternity. That’s what a woman does at a wedding, right?

Speaking of weddings, I was recently catching up with my non-real life friend Charles Trippy’s wedding. You know, CTFxC. He’s no Shaycarl, but his wedding was so lovely.

Argh, I am talking too much about gushy stuff! This blog is no place for gushiness! Blargh, I need to talk about something manly!

Punching people in the face! The activity I did as part of my job training. We had to individually come up with super hero alter-egos and a select few people were selected to present their idea. I was one of those selected of course, and I got to go up and talk to a crowd of a bit over 100 people about my super hero, The Smiley Face! Doesn’t sound manly yet, but as I explained to everyone in attendance of that day’s major training session, my super power was helping out people who are feeling down by punching a smile onto their face. Face punch=Happiness! I even got to draw a well-made stick figure of myself and show it to the crowd. As always, my demonstration was beloved and I was showered with applause and roses afterward.*

I finally bought a new pair of shoes today. I think it’s my first pair of shoes I’ve bought since probably late in 2009. No, I’m not implying that I steal my shoes, but I am directly saying that I have only needed to buy this one pair of sneakers years ago, and they have served me so well for so many years. I felt really sad going to the store and finding a replacement. Think of all the things these shoes have seen, the places they’ve visited, and the people they’ve spoken to. You know, I think the fact that I have talking shoes is what made them so memorable. I’m just kidding, my shoes have never spoken to anyone before. You almost believed me there for a second, didn’tcha?!

Anywhoozles, I own a new pair of shoes now. The new shoes are actually exactly like my old ones except there are not holes, tatters, or permanent dirt stains. My sister came home today after being out-of-state for a week and I gave her my old shoes as a welcome-home present. I also gave her permission to tear apart the little that remains of them if she so wanted. I can’t think of a better gift I could have given. Maybe a face-punch because face punches equal happiness.

*Or just a few chuckles if you really want to be realistic.