7/1/00
I saw this playground, aprivately owned playground, a church playground I think. Well, it had, like, a yard of chain on the lock! A playground! Well, this in itself is pretty odd. But then you see that the fence around the playground is maybe three and a half feet high. Real smart. "Hey, how are we going to keep kids of our ten feet high steel-on-concrete monkey bars?" "No problem. We'll put a little fence around it." "Right! And if the kids try to climb it, we'll chain up the lock!" Let's hope idiots still go to heaven. 7/2/00
Most girls in Raleigh are pretty thin. Not only are they thin, but they're also pretty frail. Frail and weak. So this was the conception I had as the average girl. Now, I spend my summers in New Bern, considerably more rural than Raleigh. I spend the majority of the time chilling in my "crib". But, for onereason or another, I got out of the house. And when I did, I met some New Bern girls. And I was very surprised to see that they were all EXTREMELY MUSCULAR! Sure, the southern accents I expected, but every girlI met was just really buff! They could have beat me up easy. Now, this feeling of physical inferiority drastically affects my normal sexual magnetism (HA!). No, I didn't bring home any fly honies tonight. 7/3/00
I was telling my good friend Brendon this. I was going to church the other day, probably a Sunday, and I was late. Not my fault, of course. But anyway, I was worried about the scorn I was sure to receive for arriving late. So, I walked into the building, and I looked into the sanctuary. Oh good, I thought, the choir's singing. Now I can sneak into the back unnoticed. Success! But just as I was heading for the door, Jesus walked around the corner. He wasn't really Jesus, of course. Just some shmuck dressed as him for one reason or another. At least, I think so. But still, he scared the hell out of me. Literally! 7/4/00
Today was the fourth of July, and you know what that means. Yep. Only 5 months and 21 days until christmas. Put, perhaps even more significantly, on this day in 1776, the Declaration of Independence was signed, stating that the people of America desire to be no longer ruled by Great Brittain, and was signed by the ENTIRE AMERICAN POPULATION! Well, actually, it was a small group of upperclass white male adult land owners, but I didn't inhale. *Little known fact*-the original declaration of independence was signed in Pennsylvania in 1689, but didn't arrive in Brittain until 1964 (Fed-Ex). However, the Pennsylvanyites (back in 1689) had a hard time deciding who the king would be (there were only two people at this time), and the new found government quickly ate itself. 17 minutes after the D of I was signed, the Declaration of Redependence was sent. However, it was misaddressed, and reached my house three days ago. (I believe so, any way. I haven't checked the mail since the mailbox bit me). But any way, we were celebrating our Idependence today with the traditional Englishman sacrifice. Those Brits have the highest pitched screams. Then we sang the traditional American Songs, like "Yankee Doodle", and "Damned if I'm Gonna Wear That Hat!" And then we all went outside and watched the fire works. If we stayed in, we might have gotten burnt. 7/5/00
Here at Tripod, they give me lots of free services for running a website, in exchange for the advertising space. Among these services is a tally of all of my hits on the previous day. Yesterday I had twelve, before 5, and before that I had twenty. Now these numbers make me feel good. But I can't help but wonder, how did these people find me? I've given my address to two people, and the only person who actually made it to my site is Brendon. Now, I know Brendon hasn't given the address to 19 of his friends (he only has 2), so how are the rest of you getting here? And do you keep coming back? I really didn't expect anyone to be reading this crap unless I personally asked them to. So please, if you are not Brendon, send me an E-Mail immediately. I want to know my audience, so I can cater to you, and make more advertising dollars. Coming next week: 98 Degrees pictures:) 7/6/00
As you may or may not know, I spend the summer here in New Bern, North Carolina. The people here are more polite than those in Raleigh; all the adults are addressed with a "Miss" before their name. (Miss Mary, Miss Kim, Miss Ralph) And, let me tell you, everyone here is EXTREMELY christian. But despite the citywide conformity, they still consider themselves, as christians, a very selective group of people, as indicated by posters saying such things as "We, as christians, are a very selective group of people", and "We're those christians satan warned you about." I find it hard to believe that this poster would have a large target audience, considering there are probably very few non-christians will be in the church to read the sign, and probably fewer who have been conversing with satan. It's kind of sad, really, to see boys from some church youth group walking door to door to spread the word of God onto a comunity whose children's first words were all "Jeus". I actually confronted one of the said boys about this, and he answered, and I quote, "We found a jew once, but he wasn't home." 7/7/00
Now, I am no fan of Brittany Speares. But I feel that she does not deserve all of the ragging on that she gets. People will say "She can't sing!" And then these people will go and listen to their "Kid Rock" and "Limp Bizcuit", or even RAP! Oh, right, a lot of gorgeous voices in there. Let's face it: if all good songs had to be by good singers, we'd all be listening to nothing but Frank Sinatra and Celine Dion. (Big fan of the former, not the latter) And then people will say, "All her songs sound alike." Big deal. Half the songs in the 50's had the traditional Duke of Earl base line, and they're classics. Brittany's transparent songs actually make them more fun. Whenever I hear one chorus, I sing the chorus of a different song, and get acool harmony effect. She should do this on a CD. The real reason we don't like Brittany is the fact that she is so popular. She dominates our radio and MTV (which I can no longer tolerate). This is not Brittany's fault. It's the fault of whoever decided that the music industry should cater to twelve year old girls, as I have often told my good friend Brendon. Bottom line, give Brittany a break. At least she's not ugly. 7/8/00
I just got AOL Instant Messanger, also known as AIM, which I don't think is fair. The A in AOL stands for America, but in AIM it stands for America On-Line, while I and M each get one word to represent. I would call it AOLIM. But that's not today's observation. (It's not even mine, but Nick's, from several months ago) I'm complaining about the IM users. First off, they're lazy. Sure, you're talking to your friends in "real time" and it's supposed to be convenient and all that. But my friends have no regard for spellig and grammars. thejusttypeassfastashteycanadnsednitttoyuo And what's with all of these abbreviations? I don't like the feeling that everything I have to say is so cliche`esque that I don't even have to type it in for the shmuck I'm talking to to get it. "lol", "roflmao" It's as if i'm drawing a predetermined conversation from a hat. I thought the point of communication was the exchange of ideas. If you're so sure I already know what you're going to tell me, why are you here? And don't these guys always show up at the most inoppurtune times? I'm busy working at my site, and I-- oops, hold on. Okay, I'm back. Anyway, I'm working on my site, and I hear the beep. So I look in and find the pressing message "whassup" (the mandatory greeting of all people under thirty as determined by the Twelve Year Old Girls) "not much" "me neither" Incorrect responce as a result of 2 second attention span. "so what's new?" "nothim" You wait a second to see if he's dead. Close. BEEP! Arg. Open. "what ya doin" I'll tell you what I'm doing! I'm talking to a moron! Except, before you can finish typing this, "brb" and it's too late. Close. BEEP! Arrg! Open. "back" Jesus, I wish you could slam the internet like a phone, because there is no way to end these conversations. You type in "g2g" Close. BEEP! ARRRG! Open. "k" AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Ofcourse, I'm complaining about one of my only readers, so I should stop. I won't whine so much tomorrow. 7/9/00
It's hard to remember the date when you don't go to school or anything. Today's Chawkservation is a movie review. I saw "The Patriot" yesterday. A very powerful movie, I thought. It moved me, but with the kind of emotions that weren't valid, if you know what I mean. There was little in the movie that was actually important to me, but every one was crying, so I had to, also. It was a long movie, and it seemed like it. But not in a bad way, it was a movie that you wanted to keep on going, because you're afraid the ends coming up, and you aren't ready. If you follow me, good for you. If not, meh. It's rated R because of the violence (no sex or bad language or drug abuse or cannibalism or satan worshipping). I thought the violence was necessary for the movie to give the right impact, though it made me whince. I'm not giving any of the plot away, but this movie gets my reccomendation. If you're gonna see it, see it now, because the video won't work. 7/10/00
I love hamburgers. They are my favorite genre of food. Now the other day, I went to Wendy's with my cousin, Katy. (she had money) Wendy's is a great burger place, because of the fresh food. (I think I read that somewhere) They give you rectangular burgers, but we can overlook that. Anyway, we both got frostees. Now, everybody likes frostees. We ate them as kids, and now we eat them faster, and they give us headaches. Weird people dip fries in them. But frostees have found a place in the heart of every red blooded american. (Except Sam Davidson of Clayton, a small town near Phillidelphia) But it's time that we realized the truth about frostees: They're frozen yogurt in a cup. Think about it, you know I'm right. We all thought it was a genuine Wendy's creation, unique to that restaurant chain. And all this time, Wendy's has been brainwashing us, drawing our attention away from the fact that it's just soft serve, and that old fat guys aren't appetizing. And frostees are more filling than milkshakes. A 99 cent small is enough for me. And I consider myself a pretty big icecream eater. Kudos to anyone who can eat a biggie, because that's about 3 quarts of icecream. Have you ever tried to drink one through a straw? If you have, you're a moron. Trying to get those huge frostee molecules (about 3cm in diameter) through one of those straws takes so much suck power, you're losing more calories that you're gaining. And the cheek surgery's gonna cost more than 99 cents. If Dave Thomas was rational, he'd realize that frostee straws would have to be about the thickness of paper towell rolls. But I'm taking up too much space. More on Wendy's tomorrow. 7/11/00
This is a continuation of yesterday's Chawkservation. So, I'm at Wendy's, right? Well, at Wendy's they sell three different salads, a chicken salad, a taco salad, and a "Delux Garden Salad." Now, the "Delux" salad is the cheapest, and it also has the least stuff in it. So, exactly how is it "Delux"? I mean, it's the bare minimum amount of salad material possible at Wendy's. There is no normal salad, but there is a "Delux" salad, with the least stuff in it. Maybe there used to be a regular salad, but it wouldn't sell, because it was just a carrot stick. (The "Delux" salad comes with a plate) Speaking of Wendy's, I did this funny thing there, once. I went up to order my food, and I said: "Yeah, can I have a Bacon McCheeseburger, some Chicken McNuggets, a Biggie McFries, a small McFrostee and, um, a biggie McSoda." "What kind?" "Um, McSprite. And could I get some McNapkins with that?" "Get the McOutta here!" "No, but seriously. Can I get a whopper?" 7/12/00
And now, the thrilling conclusion to my three part Chawkservation on fast food. McDonalds likes to add "Mc" to all of their foods. i think it's a good idea. But, you know, McDonalds has really created a technological monopoly in the field of Irish named american fast food. You know, no one else can legally establish a dish as theirs by adding this "Mc" to it. They'd have to use another irish name add-on. I can see it now. Burger 'o' King. Home of the 'o' Whopper. Except you have to pronounce it in an Irish accent, like Bulrgar 'o' Kang. Walcome to Bulrgar 'o' Kang, what can a doo folr ye." "Yeah, can I get Cheesy 'o' burger, soe fries--" "No flries. Famine." "Oh, that's right. Well, just give me a medium whiskey, and, uh, what do you want, Johnny." "I wanna go see Wiley 'o' Riley, the wee leprechaun with the big red shoes." 7/13/00
You've all read my lament on AIM. (7/8/00 I think) Well, tonight I get a message from someone I don't know. How she got my name, I don't know. But when I discover some mysterious chick wants to talk to me, I don't ask questions. Turns out she's from Georgia (it took me a while to figure out what "ga" meant. I thought it was one of my friends misspelling "gah" again) I was talking to Gina at the time, who wanted to harass the girl. I was impressed by how this girl just dove into a conversation with someone who didn't know anything about her. It caght me off gaurd, but it was a refreshing change. What was nice, is that my reputation didn't preceed me. She couldn't tell what I was wearing, who I hang out with or my sexual orientation (three of my biggest obstacles to getting girls). We had a pleasant conversation. She'd say something. and I'd come back with a witty, usually overly sarcastic, occasionally randomly bazaar, responce. (you know what i'm talking about) What I thought was funny, was that, at the end of the conversation, she thought that she had scared me, I suppose by means of her "silly" statements. My readers know that this is a joke. I think that this girl is considerably older than me, or atleast pretends to be. Hopefully, I haven't revealed my age on my site anywhere. The point is, I have renewed faith in AIM, for making it so easy for a loser to meet a girl. Something I forgot to put on my site: my AIM username is ColonelSchmuck. 7/14/00
Well, faithful readers, I got a surprise today. I was IMing my good friend Brendon and my girl friend Gina and my gay friend Danny. I noticed that the Georgia chick was online again. I told Brendon and Danny to IM her, and to drop somewhere in the conversation certain signature phrases and topics of our conversation last night. It was just a little fun. Brendon, being an idiot (ALGEBRA I), identified himself as my friend, and ruined the joke from the beginning. This is irrelevent, however, because Brendon managed to find out her age. You can imagine how surprised I was to find out that she was 36. I was expecting 13, 14, 17 tops. And when someone tells you they're 36, they're either male, or lying. Or both, in the case of a premature presidential candidate (Gore). I figure, she's maybe 45. But you could understand how I could misjudge her age if you listened to our conversation. She lacked the conversational formality of a bonafide adult. She was flirty, and girly. You know what I mean. (She identified herself as a "Dumb Blonde") But she could have been Brendon's mom. So AIM has moved down a notch on my scale. Or up a notch, now that I stop and think about it. 7/15/00
I ate too much seafood and vomited. That's all you're getting today. 7/16/00
Please excuse my apperant lack of effort in yesterday's Chawkservation. I was feeling a bit under the weather. But I'll tell you about it now. It's not like you're doing anything for me, so stop getting so picky. Anyway, I went to the beach yesterday. The beach is great, and, living in New Bern, it's about 45 minutes (menus) away. For those of you who don't know, the beach is a lot like a swimming pool, except it hurts. And you always feel crappy on the way home. But, on the plus side, nobody cares if you pee in the ocean, because they know that the ocean is made of 95% fish pee. And how about that dress code? I mean, in school, it's, "Oh my god! Becky, your bra strap is showing!" But, on the beach, every one's perfectly comfortable jumping around in what is essentially a couple wet headbands. Because modesty doesn't apply when it interphere's with practicality. And don't we fellas know it. However, unlike most of my heterosexual male bretherine, I've got a significant handicap in the field of girl watching. You see, I can't swim with my contacts, so I'm pretty much as blind as an ox out there. (I actually swam in the wrong ocean once) What this means is, until I'm 8 cm away, I can't tell if a chick is 8 years old or 80 years old or 800 pounds, or possessing any other charectoristic divisible by 8. Yessir, I've gone on quite a few wild goose chases, only to find out that it was really a dingo disguised as a wild goose. Add this to the growing number of days that Chandler didn't bring home any fly honies. 7/17/00
As many of you already know, the new X-Men movie has recently come to theatres. I know what you're all thinking. "Chandler won't want to see that. He's too tasteful to watch a childish, plotless action flick" you say. "And because Chandler won't watch it, I, too, shall abstain from viewing this overhyped display of thoughtlessness, and follow in the example of Chandler, who's charector and tastes I greatly admire. WWCD." Well, faithful readers, you will be pleased to find out that you are completely wrong, once again. While I would normally show little interest in a modern big budget cinematic adaptation of a comic series (Batman & Robin?), I am not ashamed to say that I can't WAIT to see the X-Men. You see, I loved the X-Men dearly when I was but a wee lad of 8. Oh, you know I had all of the action figures. Except Nightcrawler (BAMF). Wolverine was my favorite, of course, being the coolest, and I thought Rogue was really hot (still do). My friend liked Gambit, who was still doubtlessly cool, but did not have his own series, like my guy. And, man, we'd ALWAYS watch the cartoon on Saturday mornings on Fox, and then we'd go be X-Men for awhile. While Spiderman was my actual favorite Super hero, it was more fun to be Wolverine, with my signature phrases, such as "Bub", and "Snikt", the sound I made as I unsheathed my adimantium claws. But I had long since forgot about X-Men, selling all my cards, throwing away my pajamas that I had for 6 years (started getting tight), looking at 3 demensional girls. But my hidden love for the X-Men, for all Marvel comics, was revived by my very good friend, JK. JK wore a shirt one day, that said "Snikt" on it. Of couse, I recognised the term, and the nostalgia commenced. One day we spent Biology class reading from one of his Fat Comic books, that rich kids can afford. Magneto ripped out Wolverines Skeleton! Can you believe that? Can you believe they sold that to me when I was six? Never the less, I can't wait to see the movie, and when I do, you can be sure I'll review it on this page. Good night! BAMF!
*see ish #364 7/18/00
Today is a noteworthy day for me. For the better part of a month, I've been wondering who goes to my site. i'll check out my account, and see numbers like 88 hits, and I'm thinking, who are these people, and how did they find my site? So I've been asking people toi E-Mail me, trying to figure out what kind of people go to my site. And today, I got my first E-Mail. I didn't know who it was from, ofcourse. I opened it, and it said:
"hi
your site is pretty kool
it'll be wick when yuo've added more
cya
kell"
I almost cried. I was so glad to be getting some kind of responce from you shmucks, I didn't even notice the lack of punctuation. So today, a heartfelt thanks goes out to kell, who gave me new motivation to try for a wick site. I'll have something funny here tomorrow. 7/19/00
I spent some time in chat rooms the other day. If IM is bad, the chatrooms have their own level of hell. Because there is no curtesy at all. Probably because, when you're talking to someone in Idaho, you're not worried about seeing him in school the next day. People come in and deliver there little sound bites (this room sucks!) and NEVER offer any good conversation matter. I try to greet them. You know, try to give the room a more personal feel, ask about their name, really just try to get them to stay. It doesn't work to well. Because you shmucks have no commitment! You'll drop out once it fails to entertain you. I've actually stoked up nice conversations in small rooms, and got to know this lady from the mother land (Ireland). But there's no taming those big rooms. And people rarely use the conversation piece presented b the NAME of the room, but I can live with this. Now, some of you may have noticed that I've got a cool AIM "remote" at the bottom of each page, and apparently, I have my own chatroom. If you promise to meet my chatroom etiquette, you can go there. There probably won't be anyone there, but I'll try to drop in whenever I'm online. (Usually, about twelve to three AM) Be ready to tell me how you got your screen name. 7/20/00
Well, it seems I was meant to be born about '65. Because all the chicks that I pick up online are in their 30's. It's happened everyday I've had this AIM crap. But i just cannot seem to snare any teens. Am I too dry? I'll let you decide. Anyway, I told my Chatroom friends the 12 yr old guy and the 30 yr old biker chick I'd mention them. But you've heard enough AIM laments. On a lighter note, i just found out that I'm going to Busch Gardens on Sunday, and all that that implies. I'll be going again with the marching band on 8/2, which is cool too. For those of you who haven't been to such a roller coaster park, . . . (cont. tomorrow) (I'm running out of ideas) 7/21/00
Alright, here's what me and my friends did last year at Busch Gardens. On the roller coasters, there is a specific spot along the course of the ride where they take a picture of you. (They take several quick pictures, each focusing on a different car) As you all know, I'm always interested in using these type of public displays to their creative peak. i mean, anyone canmake a funny face or something, but that wasn't good enough for me and my friends. And because we rode each roller coaster a number of times, we had time to think of many different things to do, most of which I had forgotten. But one the funniest ones I can remember, is when we did the YMCA across the line on our car. Then we did the monkey thing. (See no evil, Hear no evil, say no evil, smell no evil) But the most fun one was the bats. You see, by doing some midway games, we obtained these cool blowup bats. But they wouldn't let us take them on the rides. So, of course, that's just what we did. We had to deflate them, and smuggle them onto the ride. During the ride, we blew them up. And at the end, we had a great picture of four guys triumphantly whomping the people in front of us with inflatable bats. The inflatable bats of FREEDOM! However, I couldn't afford to buy a picture, so you won't see this display of patriotism. But the next time I go with my friends, not this Sunday, but soon, I'll try to get someone to buy a copy, and I'll get Brendon to scan it and add it to my site. You guys deserve to know what me and my friends really look like. 7/21/00
Well, faithful readers, (both of you), the day has finally come. I can't think of anything funny to write today. My reserves are spent. So I'll whine about AIM some more. Okay, so people are IMing me. People I don't know, mind you, not my friends. And, of course, I'm glad to accept. You know me, always willing to meet someone new, and all that jazz. What I don't like is the fact that EVERY conversation is EXACTLY the same. "Hi.:)" "How's it going?" "fine u?" "not bad" (pause) "so . . ." Like i'm the one who ought to have something to say! Like the conversation is dependent on me! I think it's standard protocol for the IMer to have some kind of conversational topic, and the IMee chooses whether or not to participate. But that's not how it works. So I've gotten into the habbit of bringing up side topics. "Have you ever had a Frostee at Wendy's?" You know the schpiel. But never once has the IMer been willing to carry on with this small talk. By introducing a topic besides "What r u doin?", I've created a significant amount of cognative dissonance in the minds of these Mad Chatters. (That's the name I gave to them) They're subconciously thinking "Hey, this guys talkin about different stuff. He's weird." And, of course, they accuse me of being trivial, or arbitrary. I think we can all see the holes in that accusation. But I'm a nice guy, so I can overlook this, if it brings me closer to any fly honies. Oh, and a shout out to my friends I met on line last night, Megan and Sara.:) 7/27/00
This will be the final entry in my Chawkservation journal. Well, we've been through a lot together, haven't we? It's been a wild month. I hope you've enjoyed my site, because it's over. I'll miss you guys, though I really don't know you. Except for Kellie, who has been the only feedback. I love you Kellie. I'd like to give a shout out to all of the buds I met over the net, because I won't be talking to them again. Bye Lillian2468, whom I played truth or dare with. Goodbye Dreama7130, whom I thought was black. Goodbye MJS4ever, who lives in Wisconsin. Goodbye Cute Suger Plum, who I forget what we talked about, but you're on my buddy list. Goodbye trambopoline8j who hasn't talked to me lately b/c I made fun of her name. Goodbye Ekmbry, the only guy I could stand, even though he was twelve. And a special goodbye to Psycho Cutie658, who stuck around for the longest time. Thank you to all the people who came to my site. I wouldn't have kept it up without you. I hope you liked it, and I hope you'll come back again. I may be back some day. Check back after awhile. Don't E-Mail me after 7/29/00 please. Goodbye!!!!! |
