That being said, no need to scrutinize my blogs.
Today, June 24th of the year 2012, marks the extinction of the Pinta Island tortoise. The last of his species, Lonesome George, expired this morning at 8am. This is my final gift to you, sweet giant turtle-like creature. The world shall hear the plight of your’s and your species’ last days.
TORTOISE LOG
June 21, 2012 (I think)
They tell me I’m a hunder’d and they gasp. Big friggin’ deal! My pops, they called ‘im Fastin’ Fred ‘cause he was a picky eater, lived ta see a hundr’d an’ fifty-two long years. Harumph. Old bast’rd used to tell me stories of the great drought-cession. Every time I said I was hungry he was sure to remind me that he “went two years without a good hump and three years without so much as a patch a’ grass ta call [‘is] own.” Good riddance, I says.
I saw a wee hermit crab today scuttlin’ past me. And fer what? Ta find a new shell? I couln’t help but feelin’ like my pops. Happ’ns more an’ more these days. I had half a mind ta yell “the one ya’ got suits ya’ jus’ fine, ya’ pipsqueak.” I didn’t. I never did. Just like me to keep my mouth shut. A hunder’d years and I ain’t stood up for myself but one time. Still remember it like ‘twas yest’rdy. Comes ta’ think of it, ‘twas jus’ yest’rdy. Just like pops said, “time flies sometimes.”
June 22, 2012 (I think)
They call me Lonesome George. Harumph I says ta’ that hoot ‘n holler. Cain’t be lonesome if ya’ hate bein’ the altern’tive. Funny they should have tha stones ta be callin’ me lonesome when it’s them who took me from ma’ home an’ moved me to a d’rn “sanct’ary.” Pops always said the only sanct’ary a tortoise needed was” ‘tween two legs of a lady folk. And it d’rn tootin’ weren’t worth git’n to if’n it didn’t take year or two.” Dirty ol’ bird.
And I’ll tell ya somethin’, I’ll be d’rn tootin’ if them upright-walkin’ curious folk aren’t pushin’ tortoise tail in ma’ face. Old “Lonesome George” woulda been jus’ fine if’n they woulda let me to myself. I did jus’ fine in that respect, I’ll tell ya’. By “that respect,” a’course, I mean matin’. Short, meanin’ful and seldom jus’ like it should be. But, ya’ takes what ya’ gits.
I saw that hermit crab ag’in t’day. I had half a min’ to give ‘im the ol’ stinkin’ eye.
June 23, 2012 (I think)
They tell me it’s safer in here. No goats munchin’ ma’ food. Pish posh! Gettin’ real darn tired a’ bein’ all caged up. Cain’t say I’d do anythin’ a bit different, but Jeez, please. I can feel them bars out there yellin’ at me, taunting me in ma pop’s voice “jus’ you try an’ run, boy. Ha! Ya’ cain’t run ‘cause yer a dang ol’ tortoise.”
Sometimes I wish I was a flyin’ tortoise. Then ag’in, anythin’ movin’ that quick must not know whats they’re doin’. Them little buggers in the air always look lost anyway. Bunch a’ bumblin’ damn fools. Everythin’ ya’ need’s right ‘ere.
Sometime’s I wish I was a swimmin’ tortoise. Then ag’in … time fer a nap.
Can’t nap if yer takin’ a swim can ya’? Harumpapum-pumph.
June 24, 2012 (I think)
They tell me I’m healthy. Well duh ta that, I says. Woke up early t’day. Woke up late yest’rdy. Guess it all evens out in tha end. Wish I could eat that hermit crab. More like hermit crap.
Feels like rain t’day. I’m ‘membrin’ a day not too long ago I says I’d just die if’n it rained ag’in. My pops used ta say “A tortoise ain’t nothin’ without ‘is shell. Be more like a big smooth lizz’rd, but slower ‘n stupid’r.” I think I fine’ly git it. What’s an’ old bugger like me if he don’t stick ta ‘is word. Guess I’ll be dyin’ now.
HARUMPHEDY-RUMPH-RUMPH!!! HARIMBELY-RUMP-A-DIG-DUG-PPPHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
The hermit crab didn’t even notice as he scuttled by on his way to work. His mouth still fresh from the lips of his boring but faithful wife, he hoped that his son had finished his homework. He always had excuses. “Jesus H. Crab! Late already? the beach is going to backed up for minutes!” He muttered to himself as he continued on…
R.I.P. and may you fly aimlessly with your winged-brethren, Lonesome George.
Work sucks.
[video]
“The perception of the comic is a tie of sympathy with other men, a pledge of sanity, and a protection from those perverse tendencies and gloomy insanities in which fine intellects sometimes lose themselves. A rogue alive to the ludicrous is still convertible. If that sense is lost, his fellow-men can do little for him.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
A scary story? Ahhh yes. I’ve got plenty of those, stranger. But, there’s nothing more bone-chillingly engrossing than real life, right? Let me tell you about a night not so long ago in a place not so far from this very campground. Do you have a flashlight so that I may splash an eerie glow upon my face? No? Are you sure? It would help. Still no. Then I shall begin in the pitch of black. You’re going to wish I had a flashlight. Have you checked everywhere? No, a bonfire doesn’t count. Uggh! Just forget it! The storytelling begins …. NOW!
Late one night, very much like this one, a young gentleman happens across an imposingly tall and ghastly vampire. Afraid and unsure of what to do, he threatens the vampire. He begins to chant “I am going to suck your blood!” It’s odd the things man will do when backed into a corner with his life at stake. Over and over he repeats his threat as he menacingly advances on the vampire. The mood is tense and the vampire becomes confused and a nervous. He continues to bellow, “I am going to suck your blood! I am going to suck YOUR BLOOD” The man’s voice is becoming raspy with hate.
The two are now within inches and the vampire begins to retreat. To retreat I tell you! I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes. The man is sharp to his opponents disorientation and begins to fill up with confidence. His step becomes bolder. His senses are more alert than he can ever remember. His whole existence is in this moment. The pounding of his faded black flip-flops as he marches to what can only end in victory fills his ears. Flip. Flop. Flip. Flop. He can no longer hear his own words as they rumble out. “I AM GOING TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD!” His fear has become his best friend as it now compels him to do the conceivably impossible. Their noses touch- his a squarish block slightly protruding from his otherwise flat face, the vampire’s an almost comically long and twisted prominence- and spark the man into action.
Check human. One move away from checkmate. I couldn’t begin to jest if I didn’t bear witness to so strange an event that night. The man jumped with the swiftness of a cat. His muscles working in unison to defeat a common foe. He was at the nape of the changed and now vulnerable looking vampire. There was a clash then unlike any, I imagine, has ever been witnessed. For what seemed like hours, but in reality lasted no longer than a few moments, they exchanged blows and jockeyed for position. If ever a fight could be described as glorious, this would surely be it.
And as quickly and swiftly as it began, it was over. Whew! Believe you me, it was exhausting! I don’t ever recall a struggle quite as satisfying, prey so deserving or a human so delicious! I still remember wiping my fangs afterward, letting the blood so sweet settle on my tongue and thinking “Mmmmm. Irony.”
Puns make the world go round :)
“Have no fear of perfection- you’ll never reach it.” — Salvador Dali
Last weekend was a blast. I’ll start with that. It was such a blast that my lack of sleep and subsequent thirst for sleep has hampered my productivity until today (almost exactly one week later). There were a couple things I was able to take from it, however. 1) It’s fun to spend a lot of money on drinks and good times because its silly and irresponsible. 2) I’m glad to say that as a 25 year old, karaoke has never been more fun. 3) Don’t hurt people who are extremely talented. That third bit of knowledge didn’t hit me until the next morning while I was listening to a live version of “Someone Like You” by Adele (a song that my roommates and I sang most enchantingly at the top of our lungs the night before in front of a crowd of self-determined apathetics). As Adele’s angelic songbird voice was taking my soul to her hurt dungeon where it was made to stare at her raw pain and to feel … her raw pain, I couldn’t help but empathize with the guy she was singing about. How could I not? Her profoundly personal style made it sound like she was singing at me. Not ‘to’ me, but ‘at’ me. When she got the audience to sing the chorus for her I even felt like they where looking at me with scorn in their faces and rocks in their hands. So it got my brain engine turning. How can I avoid feeling that bad? I broke down the chorus to help me out.
Never mind, I’ll find someone like you …
Well, if she wants another guy like him, he must have been a pretty awesome guy. I was a little nervous to find that I posses this quality of awesomeness. Again, to remind you, I want to separate myself from that guy- Also, I’m tired of writing “that guy” so I guess I’ll have to give him a name. Merv. Merv Applewood. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s OK to be awesome, so I’ll assume something went wrong. Merv probably overestimated himself and thought he could do better than Adele. Bad move, Merv. Her hair is kinda out there, but talent is sexy. Red Hot Sexy. I wish, most importantly for my sake (if he wouldn’t have screwed up, I would have never had to hear this wonderful soul-racking song), he would have realized that.
Takeaway: It’s OK to date talented people even if you are awesome, but be good to them.
I wish nothing but the best for you …
Adele comes off as looking pretty rad right now. Hey, Merv would you like to say something back to Adele? Maybe how you hope the best for her as well? Too bad because no one wants to listen to you. You have no voice. You went and married a talent-less woman. I hope you’re happy. Uggggh, Meeeerv!!!
Takeaway: Well, you can date a talented person, but it’s getting risky. Maybe forgo any impulses you might have to end said relationship. The phrase “the grass is always greener on the other side” is your mortal enemy.
Don’t forget me, I beg …
Oh boy. Sorry, Merv. You’re also not allowed to move on. This is not one of those things you can brush off and say its behind you. She has immortalized your blunders as a human being- and we all have them-in song. I guess she’s only asking this one thing of you.
Dear Merv,
I do want you to be happy. More than anything, I do. I also want you to think about what we could have been together and be sad about that for the rest of your life.
Love ALWAYS AND FOREVER, Adele ;)
Takeaway: I’m starting to wonder if its ever a good idea to venture into a relationship with anyone who has a sweet voice.
I remember you said, “Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”
Why would you say that!?!?! Stupid! You think you’re some kind of poet or some shit something? Did you say that when you broke up with her? Did you google “douchiest way to dump your girl?” I suppose you probably texted it to her as well? Oye! Ok, well you said it. So what now? That’s something she’s absolutely going to remember. The last thing you need, Merv, is Adele to remember that. I would say every time you want to say something so very over the top, finish it with an uncomfortable joke like “What happened to the Chinese man who ran into a wall with a boner? He smashed his nose.” This might at least rip that stupid thing you said from her memory. Plus, she probably won’t get famous singing a song where she remembers you said that joke.
Takeaway: I think I made that pretty clear.
All I’m saying is be wary when you find yourself in a committed relationship with a talented person. In fact, you might want to steer clear of talent all together. You never know what you might say or do to spark something inside them that will find it’s way to my ears and upset me.
The Brewers and I beat my roommate’s- we’ll call him Lon Decker- Giants in a heated game of MLB 2K10 tonight and it would be a lie to say that it didn’t feel most wonderful. Howsoever, I find myself in a quandary. Why did it feel so great? It’s hard to quantify. Actually, there are more reasons to feel shame than anything resembling joy, but shame is completely absent from my being. I wonder why that is.
It is a game, just a game.
I in no way physically bested my opponent. I am supremely mediocre at all things sporting related. The players aren’t even virtual representations of myself. They look (kind of) like real MLB players- all of whom I imagine don’t have a whole lot of time set aside for gaming. In fact, I was able to enjoy a glass of red wine during the match up. Nice.
Is it because the real life Brewers suck right now?
Maybe.
I have a lot more play time than Lonny. Should I still feel good about the win?
Probly not. I shouldn’t be rewarded for spending the most amount of time not accomplishing real life goals and achievements. That would be like if they gave out money to the person that could text the fastest. Oh wait.
I won the House Baseball Championship Belt. That’s GOTTA be worth something right?!?!?
Well, yes and no. The idea is pretty cool,but this belt isn’t even an inanimate object. That is to to say it doesn’t really exist … at all.
WHY THEN, WHY?!
I think it stems from generations of primal maleness. While my ancestors bested each other in good-hearted bouts of fisticuffs and excelling in the business world, generation Y has been reduced to living and dying by the swords of wireless controllers. We still feel the thrill of a good whooping and the sharp agony of defeat, but it’s … it’s hard to say … ahhhhh! … reaching for a good word … different. Until it once again becomes socially acceptable to challenge a man to a duel for the hand of a prominent family’s virginal daughter or just easier to get a good job after graduating from college, this will have to do.
With technology where it is today, it’s understandable that our generation has a hard time keeping ourselves entertained without it. Everything from our favorite games to our favorite books have been digitized and made easily accessible to the masses. So while you’re browsing the world wide web in all its glory, I offer up to you a tool to help you entertain yourself. It’s time to take a page from our past. More specifically a page from a delightfully small flip book containing hours of self-manufactured fun: Mad Libs. I modernized this one a little bit for you: enter Rap Libs. So get out one of those ancient #2 pencils and plug these into your original rap song.
(1) food item (15) word that rhymes with plaques
(2) noun (16) name of person you hate- first & last name
(3) Olympic sprinter (17) a verb that shows affection
(4) adjective (18) a noun that’s a symbol of wealth (plural)
(5) verb ending in -ing. (19) a stackable noun
(6) body part (20) your favorite restaraunt
(7) female dog (plural) (21) your least favorite beverage
(8) a scavenging animal (22) adjective
(9) your favorite animal (23) Gastro-intestinal disorder
(10) mythical beast (24) obscure President (plural)
(11) mode of transportation (25) brand of cereal
(12) emotion (26) type of bread
(13) an opposite emotion (27) name of a department store
(14) verb (command)
I WILL ENTA’TAINT YOU
Looks like we at it again. (Make a lighter noise and pretend you’re inhaling smoke). I’m goin’ in.
Well, I got more _________ (1) than your neighborhood grocer. I gots mo’ paper than a Dunder Mifflin. I’m an old school boss- call me David Wallace. I move more ________(2) than a jaded postal worker. Ship it priority… ________ (3). My rhymes is so ________(4), feel like I’m ________(5) on Shakespeare. Money oozing out my ________(6) better call the doctor, it kin-da hurts. And that’s not funny call it Carrot Top. Got ________(7) flockin’ to me like a ________(8) to a dead, bloated ________(9). I am a ________(10) bent on destruction. I’m a brand new ________(11) that is crashing this function. I’m smokin’ that ________(12) weed that makes you feel ________(13). Confused? Read a book, ________ (14)
CHORUS
I don’t need no platinum plaques cuz I got the baddest ________(15). Believe me, Them ________(15) makes me a Big Mac, try that special sauce. Born to rule over all the ham-bourgeois.
Here I come ________(16) Heed my presence or I shall smite thee might-ily, Mother ________(17), come hither!
I don’t need a library, I got ________(18) in the back piled up like stacks a ________(19). Hop up in the truck, you. I will Scrooge McFuck you. We goin’ to ________(20) and you can’t have none of it. You’ll get ________(21) bitch, a whole big cup of it. I got that ________(22) dirty flow, call me Mr. ________(23) I got a wallet full of ________(24) just chillin’. Still don’t get it? Read a book!
CHORUS
So pop that bottle, pop that box of ________(25), We havin’ baller breakfast cuz you know we break fast. Time out… Tim Tebow. Put that cup up to your mouth and drink of my wealth. That’s 50 carat ________(26) bread goin’ down your gullet. So mull-it. Over. It’s party in the back and business in the front. That’s a ________(27) employee steppin’ up to me. No it’s not a he. Yeah, she’s a she. And she party in the back and she party in the front. Drop to yo’ knees and beg for forgiveness, you are not worthy. And you are in luck, for I am not pervy.
Uhhh, Eat a book, Mother ________(18)
Mr.________(15)… Right back at it….