9/29/00
I cannot apologize enough for my lack of writing stuff lately. I just can't put in as much time as I could over the summer. I'm on late on weekends and EXTREMELY EARLY on weekends. It's wild. A quick recap on the events of my life over the past couple of months: In early August, I started marching band camp. Before you start poking fun at my marching band ventures, let me remind you that any stereotypes you hold against marching band members were artificially created by a movie you aren't old enough to see, that you thought wouldn't affect you, but has obviously instilled in you the criticism of marching band members. I met up with my schmucks that I hadn't seen all summer, and a good time was had by all. Due to some genetic anomaly, our drum major has an awfully good looking little sister, who was admired by all, with hilarious consequences. We went to Busch Gardens, and quite an inuendo was experienced. I've got to tell you this. Forget the brief summary. It started last year on a similar marching band trip to a similar theme park with a similar name. Extremely similar, in as much as it was the same. I've already told you in a previous entry about the pictures that they take of you on the roller coasters, and how my friends and I had planned to take the perfect shot this year. Well, we were at Busch Gardens, and the crowd was astronomical, by which I mean large. We had time only for one more roller coaster, and we had yet to take the glorious photo. So we decided it was time. We played four games of guess your pitch in order to win three inflatable bats. That's a lie. The inflatable bat was the consolation prize, and we all lost intentionally in order to win them. The plan was simple. We weren't allowed to take loose items onto the coaster, so, ofcourse, that's exactly what was decided must be done. The cars were in rows of four, so four of us would preform the traditional YMCA in the front car, and four of us would whack the other four with the bats from the cart immediately behind, as the picture was being taken. But the bats had to be smuggled into the carts. The plan was to hide each person's bat in his respective pants, and, during the ride, to inflate them as quickly as possible. After the ride, they would be deflated, returned to their respective pants, and smuggled off of the ride. If all went according to plan, they would not know about the transgression until it was over, and we could all purchase a photo depicting the glorious occurence. If all went according to plan.
We started the 22 story ascension before the ride began, and as soon as we were out of eyeshot, the schmucks behind me whipped out their bats and blew like there was no tomorrow. Just as we approached the top, the coaster stopped. I felt the first qualm of uncertainty. Surely noone saw the bats. This must be rutine. The guys behind did not keep such cool heads, as they deflated like there was no two minutes from now. And then the authority, 3 teenage girls in this case, started climbing the 20-odd stories of stairs beside the coaster, the real anxiety began. They're gonna catch us! Abort! Should we jetison the bats? Should we lie? They're gonna throw us out of the park! Mr. Jenner's gonna eat me for lunch! (no exagerration) I decided to pretend like I didn't know the guys around me.
But the fuzz was surprisingly cheerful when they finally got up to us. "Alright, who has the bats?" "Um . . . we do" "You guys!" So she confiscated our bats and let us go on with the ride. That's when we pulled out the REAL bats! No, I'm joking. But wouldn't that be funny?
So we ended up with 2 rows of YMCA's. If Brendon will scan it, I'll post it. I've got a rather dissapointed look on my face. But in retrospect, I'm glad it happened. It makes for a good story. 
10/3/00
I've got to catch the bus in five minutes, so this is going to be short. Today's Brendon's birthday, but since I'm in the middle of recapping the past two months, we'll pretend it's my birthday. My birthday started on the trip home from Busch Gardens. The guys all chipped in and got me a small coffee and some prepackaged doughnuts at a rest stop. It was great. When Jacob fell asleep, we but balls of paper in his mouth. I'll see if I can get the picture from Hoss. I then partook in the first intellectual conversation I've EVER had with these guys in the wee hours until we got back. I suppose they were too tired to act stupid. But I shouldn't talk, because I'm the one who wanted to make the Ice Ice Baby music video. Shoot, I gotta go. 10/6/00
New Business: Brendon got a CD-RW for his birthday, and suddenly the price of CD's for Chandler drops 19 and a half bucks.
Old Business: So where was I? Right. Well, band camp dragged on for another week and a half and nothing interesting happened. Wait, something interesting did happen. Mr. Jenner, our band teacher, announced his resignation. I'm going to hate to see him go. We've got a sub during the school day, but he's still teaching marching band.
Well, we started school, and this year has a lot of promise. I've got two periods of math this year, and my french teacher is surprisingly nice for a retired Romanian communist military leader. I'm tearing it up in band class, and by "it" I mean my lips, which God never intended to play the notes that they are expected to. No, I've just lost my range from playing third part all last year. James is in my C&C class, so we're gonna dominate this year. I eat lunch with Nick, because Brendon has band that period, and I've decided that the rest of my friends are morons. And my chemistry teacher has the funniest speech impediment. Yes sir, the year is looking good. 10/6 & a half/00
Can somebody tell me what the deal is with dancing? I mean, I don't want to seem like a square, but why the emphasis on this ritual? What makes teenagers think that a social event should involve jumping up in down to the tune of pulsating music so loud that you can't hear anything. Am I supposed to be proving my charector with spontaneous rhythmic movements? And it's always so cramped and hot and headache inducing. Why do we think that it's fun. Is it because we're touching people? Is it the basic sexual outlet for modern youth? I mean, I suppose dancing can be fun, in as much as it's a make-shift performance, comparable to singing with your friends. But no, it's not about actually having fun, but about being cool, trying not to look stupid. In this respect, I have less fun dancing with some hot girl than I would dancing with, say, Hoss. But anybody who's anybody goes to the dances. People talk about it in anticipation for the preceeding weeks, and in retrospection in the proceeding weeks. "So, are you going to the dance." "I am like, so going." "Who are you going with" "Oh my god I don't know!" Oh no! Better get a date! Or else all of your friends will hate you! And my god! Can the dances be any more like dry sex? Christ, you know I'm talking about. And anyone will do it. It truly sickens me to see these four and a half foot tall girls moving like four and a half dollar prostitutes. And the music just encourages it. They know what the kids want. That not true. They tell the kids what the kids want. Everyone in highschool is in such a hurry to prove they aren't a kid, they'll accept the sex inducing music as a means of showing their maturity. Ha! If we had any class, we would want nothing to do with it. We would sit on couches and have fun, like my friend Nick suggested.But maybe I just don't understand it. Maybe I AM square, or whatever the term is today. All I know is that I don't get a kick out girating to extremely loud music that I don't even like, and I'm going to stop going to school dances until my opinion changes. 10/10/00
Our computer is in a room of our house that is not particularly well insulated. We're experiencing some uncommonly cold weather here in North Caroline, and I'm freezing my everything off. If you catch any typos, it's probably because of the mittens. I usually like cold weather. It's so brisk; it makes you feel alive. There's something about cold weather that feels so clean, if you know what I mean. Unlike hot weather, which feels like you're in somebody's mouth. Good things happen during cold weather, like Christmas, and ugly people putting more clothes on. I am very well apparelled for cold weather because I have this great trenchcoat. However, when I wear it, everyone thinks that I'm trying to be badass. Everyday some schmuck will come up to me and say "Ya got any guns under there? Haha!" Oh, funny. Relating me to a member of the trench coat mafia. I swear, I could just KILL somebody. No, not really. I suppose I get the jesting because it's a black trenchcoat, and, indeed, numerous "badass" people at my school wear one. More than anything I'm glorifying the fashion of the forties. I got black because it was cheaper, and now I see why. But the trenchcoat is Really warm. I swear, it's better than these crazy multicolor jackets all the guys are wearing. You know what I'm talking about. And the trenchcoat is the only thing that can keep me completely dry in the rain. It's great. Well, it's time for me to go, in as much as I'm missing too many fingers to type anymore. I'll see you around. 
10/13/00
Pshoo! What a week. Yesterday we performed our African Folktale for C&C class. We missed a few lines, but thanks to my outstanding charisma we'll get an A. I wish you could have heard the script. It was about an extremely fat woman who melted away. And all that that implies. I want to tell you about this girl named Jackie, but I'll have to wait until I know what in the wide world of HELL is going on with us. Oh! In marching band practise yesterday, Brendon got stung by a bee and his lip got all swollen up. So he went home. I don't know whether or not it went down, or if he'll be able to play the Sousaphone at tommorow's contest. I'm going to Nathan's after school today, for those of you who like to keep tabs on my life. I think today is his birthday, too, so happy birthday Nathan. You haven't died for a year, good job. He'll have his party later. Zoiks! I've got to go. See you around. 10/17/00
Quite a weekend. I saw my school's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream on Friday afternoon, and I was quite impressed. Then I went home with Nathan and we rented a couple videos. I had a marching band contest on Saturday, and we got a trophy big enough to be a flute player. On Sunday I went over to Brendon's house, and we filmed another scene of our movie. And Brendon rattled off a list of lame jokes and made me cry. Monday was a teacher work day for us, so we went to the North Carolina State Fair, which had conveniently opened last Friday. We went to Matt's house before hand, and had some nice clean band fun. Then we went to the fair, where I was determined to spend less than fifty bucks. So I only bought one pound of fudge this year, and I only ate half of it in a single sitting. I didn't go on too many rides this year, which is just as well, because fair rides aren't so much fun as they just make you want to vomit. However, I did some funny things on the Gravitron, and an all around good time was had. And we had a lot of fun making fun of signs, which had humorous lemonades suggested, such as "ONION LEMONADE" or "LEMONADE with cheese or bacon" and the like. We ran into a couple of Brendon's chicks, who hung out with us for most of the day, and even got us to sing kareoke. I took the lead on Breaking up is hard to do, but keep in mind that this was after yelling for eight hours, and I really couldn't hear myself. I ended up spending $45 bucks, and so I was very pleased with myself.
Have you noticed that you only get keen insights on days when I didn't do any thing? When I'm busy, you just get a summary. Meh. 6/18/00
There are several different means of getting cookies. You can buy prepackaged ones from Nabisco, you can get nice ones from some places, like bakeries of whatnot, or you can make them yourself. If you make them yourself, you can make them from scratch, you can use a mix, or you can bake them from readymade dough. If you take the latter of the three, you can either use the slice and bake, the break apart and bake, the dough that comes in a kind of sausage-looking package, or the industrial size 5 pound tub of chocolate chip cookie dough. And out of the seemingly infinite means of getting cookies, the tub is my favorite. Because I love cookie dough. I used to always plot ways of swiping it unnoticed. I'm a Pillsburgular. It used to be so hard to swipe it with out a trace from all other packaging methods (believe me, I've tried), but the tub just lets you scoop a spoon (finger, tongue, whatever) into this vat and pull up instant gratification. And nobody notices one spoonfill missing out of 5 lbs. It's a dough lovers dream come true. So thanks, Pillsbury, for beating the system (my parents) and making it possible for a guy to get his daily allotment of cookie dough with out adverse consequences. Now I've got to go, because I'm experiencing severe abdominal pains. 7/23/00
Sorry I haven't written lately, guys. I don't like to write unless I know what's going on, and I'm surprised I wrote as much as I did. I had the cookie schpiel in reserves. It has become increasingly apparent to me that a lot of you think that I am Jewish. Maybe it's the big nose. Maybe it's my use of the words schmuck, and schpiel. Maybe it's my wit, for Jewish people are very witty. But for the record, I'm not Jewish. I'm mostly Irish. I've got really hairy legs. (I get them from my mom) The favorite college football team in my household is Notre Dame. (the fighting Irish) And I can pronounce all of my r's with l's, and replace my e's with a's. And I like potatoes. And I've been oppressed by the Brittains all of my life. (telletubbies) I look good in a green suit. My uncles have very hairy backs. And they quite often get pissed drunk. So if anyone finds these charectoristics Jewish, well, sucks to be Jew. Oh, my friend Katie wanted me to mention her. Katie. 10/24/00
Guess what! I just got a much simpler domain for my site. Now you can just type in www.chawk.org and get to my site. I know, I'm not really an organization, but I couldn't get .com or .net. Unfortunately, if you get to my site via that method, you get this namezero toolbar at the bottom of your window. If you can deal with that, cool. But you might want to keep the conventional method. Sorry. I cooked this really cool stuffed beef for french class. I'd give you the recipe, but that would require me doing stuff. Jackie thinks I look like a monkey. You guys need to covince her otherwise. Send her an E-mail telling her how much I look like a notmonkey. monkin7244@aol.com Tell her I look like Ben Affleck. Yesterday was pajama day at school, and I wore these flannel pants, but they had a huge, gaping hole in the croch. Does crotch have a t in it? Oddly enough, today is the first day I've ever written the word crotch. Today is also dress to impress day, and I'm wearing very nice clothes. Let me take a picture for you. 10/26/00
Sorry, I couldn't get a picture that I liked. But I wish you could've seen me yesterday. It was culture day, and so I dressed scottish. Let me tell you I was the only guy at school in a kilt. Now, the kilt really ought to make me feel insecure and feminine. However, I felt extremely manly in it. And I've got great kilt legs. My legs are exactly the kind of legs you would expect to find under a kilt. Jackie laughed at me, but that is to be expected. She still insists I look like a monkey. But I think she has a thing for monkeys. |
