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a thought, and a story!

So here I am, enjoying a Swedish fish and typing out my blog, which brings to mind a Swedish fish joke that I like to say:

A man walks into a candy store and asks: "Do you have any good candy?"
And the candy store man says: "Well, we have some candy fish."
And the man says: "Is it sweet?"
And the candy store man says: "Well, it's Swe-dish!

And I was telling Tiffany that joke and she said "I've heard that joke a million times. It's boring!"
And it's true! I tell it every time I see Swedish fish (which isn't exactly every day) so I decided to make a new Swedish fish themed joke, right now:

What kind of fish waged a series of wars in the mid-to-late seventeenth century that left the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in ruins?

Swedish fish!

******************************

Alright, so here's an interesting story: On Friday, I needed to get my passport renewed (for what reason? Maybe another post will tell) so I jaunted over to the nearest post office on Shattuck, which offered passport renewal services, though they stopped at 3PM. I got out of class at 2, and by the time I was able to get to the post office, it was 2:45PM (That was due, in part, to the fact that the first address I used led me to an apartment complex.) When I got in line, the lady asked me if I had an appointment. Confused, I said no, because the website told me there was no need for an appointment. As it turned out, an apointment was necessary to get the renewal. I was disappointed, but she offered me two choices: either I sign up for an appointment and come again another day, or I could go down to 7th street and renew my passport at the walk-in office there, which thankfully closed at 4PM. I took the second option.

7th street is apparently in the middle of downtown, scary looking Oakland. I parked, covered up anything that looked remotely valuable, and headed for the huge post office building. Right at the the entrance was the walk-in office (more of a counter, really) and the line was short! Plus, the worker was a 40something Filipino lady! The combination of these things were certain to get me through in no time. When it was my turn, the lady noticed that my parents were from the Philippines and asked where they were from. We had a casual conversation as she processed my papers, and she was in a good mood, which was a plus. Then, at the end of the process, I had to swear an oath that stated everything on the application was correct, that the picture was my picture, etc. and I responded with a simple "I do." As i was signing the papers, I jokingly said:

"So, heh, when do get to kiss the bride?"

I laughed at the small joke, but I noticed that the lady didn't really laugh. So I took my reciept and left. As I was walking to my car, I suddenly thought: "Did I just hit on a 40something year old Filipino lady?"

Picture for yourself a full eatery

a continuation of this story

Screeching chair, a silent plop and a sigh.

"So, where did I leave off?"
"Who are you?"
"I'm pretty sure it was a cliffhanger..."
"Excuse me?"
"Ah! I remember now!"
"Hey!"

Sound rushed back into the busy restaurant. It was lunchtime, at the busiest possible hour. Men and women in business suits sat about, eating and talking about the new TS43 evaluation forms, catching up on the latest office gossip or just wolfing down their meager lunches. It had already been a long day, and it was to be longer still. Karen sat and stared at the strange man that suddenly decided to sit across from her. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, his hair askew and his clothes (a plain white tee with jeans) stained. His bearded face grinned wildly.

"Yes?" the man asked nonchalantly.
"Who are you?"

The man snorted and laughed, as if Karen had asked a ridiculous question. "Come on, now, Karen. Stop joking around."

"How do you know my name?"

The man laughed again. "Come on, Karen. Do you want to know more about Raymond?"

"How do-" Karen's voice lowered, angered. "How do you know Raymond?"

"There we go," the man said, tapping his temple. Karen seized up. "Now we can continue. I think this is where I left off..."

***********************************************

Raymond's voice echoed through the stadium, the speakers carrying his voice to every corner. The loud cheering died down, and the few men left struggling on the field stopped dead in their tracks and wearily looked towards the podium. In a matter of minutes, the stadium was blanketed in silence. Raymond, red faced, looked out at the confused crowd. People from the upper booths stood up and stared, stretch-necked, at the man standing in the podium. Suddenly the silence broke.

"He's an outsider!" someone from the crowd yelled. Others who were chasing him earlier shouted in agreement. "I heard him talk of the world outside!" one of them exclaimed. Gasps of surprise and fear rang through the crowd. Several people fainted.

"Wait! Please, listen! You have nothing to fear!" But before he could get another word out, the man in the striped suit suddenly appeared and punched him in the stomach. Dry heaves and retches prevented him from going any further. Two bulky men quickly jumped onto the stage and held him up.

"Explain yourself!" The man in the striped suit exclaimed, reclaiming his microphone. "Who are you?"

Raymond gasped his answer. "Raymond. . . Finch. I'm from. . . the outside."



Alrighty, I'll finish the rest another time!

Once upon a time

"Ready your bids, gents!"
"I have the winner on hand, I know it!"
"Now now, wishful thinking won't get you anywhere."

Peals of laughter rung through the booth as finely-dressed men and women filled the air with excited murmurings. The dome gleamed above them as the took their seats and looked on. It was a fine day for a race.

Their chatting and speculating soon died down as a man in a striped suit ambled onto the middle of the track. Microphone in one hand, he held the other to silence the anxious crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he began. Voices lowered, though speculation on the winner continued. "Our grand celebration is about to begin!"

The crowd below the booths cheered wildly, the young men jumping up and down with glee. Those more affluent members of society clapped politely in their booths, smiles stretched on their faces. The announcer once again held his hand up to calm the crowd. Once the cheering died down, be began again.

"This time-honored tradition has been a proud part of our heritage, and a vital one at that." Several elder members in the crowd as well as in the booths nodded knowingly. "Fifty years ago today, our Beloved Leader saw it fit to protect us from the ravaged world outside, shielding us from the outbreak of disease." As he said this, he waved his hand overhead, gesturing to the massive dome above.

"We continue to honor our Beloved Leader with the celebration he established fifty years ago, our brave men demonstrating their strength for him to see." He bowed to the looming tower at the front of the field, the top obscured by tinted glass.

"All year, we work hard and place our full effort in sustaining our beautiful home, as well as the barrier that protects us from the ugly devastation outside. The fruits of our labor culminate on this day, as we test our men and choose the one strong enough to continue our survival!"

Cheers once again filled the stadium, infused with mirth and happiness. In the midst of the crowd, Raymond curiously looked on. What was this all about? Standing nervously next to him was Charles, cautiously looking around to make sure no one was paying attention.

"So what's this whole thing about?" Raymond asked loudly, the crowd nearly overtaking his voice. "Shhh! Not too loud!" Charles hissed. "If anyone figures out you're from the outside, they'll tear you apart! Not to mention, they'll kill the one soiled by his infection!"

Raymond stared at Charles and laughed, slapping him on the back. "I told you already, Charlie. There is no infection!"

Charles hushed him again. "Try telling that to a mob of panicked and angry villagers! And please, stop calling me Charlie!"

Raymond laughed again. "Whatever you say, Charlie. So tell me, what goes on here?"

Charles had an annoyed look on his face, but decided to answer Raymond anyway. "In a word? A footrace."

"Just a race? But it looks like a pretty big deal. The whole village must be here. It must be some race."

"That's because everyone in the village IS here. Look, I don't know how you outsiders live, but when you spend an entire year doing nothing but work, you tend to enjoy a good distraction."

Raymond looked around and grinned. "Yeah, you have a point. It was a real bore here until today. I'm glad I could stick around for this."

Charles looked at Raymond, then looked out at the track, which was beginning to be filled with young men. Some looked excited, while others looked frightened. Everyone seemed nervous. The man in the striped suit walked off the field and to a podium just outside of the track. "Yeah, it's a big deal. But this isn't just for entertainment, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Raymond said, looking out at the men. "Hey! It's Eddie!"

The young farm hand was standing in the small crowd of prospective racers. "Eddie!" Raymond called out to him, waving wildly. Eddie saw him, grinned and waved back. The men crowded around the starting line and took their positions.

"Yeah," said Charles. "It's also a test."

The starting gun cracked and the young men took off. Raymond focused on Eddie, noticing a change in his eyes. They were filled with sheer determination, as if he was betting everything on this race. His face gleamed with excitement.

Then suddenly it disappeared.

Raymond looked on in horror as a headless Eddie slowed down, then collapsed to the ground. A large scythe appeared from nearby, sending his head flying onto the nearby grass. Suddenly, the track was changing. Traps appeared everywhere, and in the midst of the excited screams from the crowd, men were being crushed, sliced and maimed.

"We need men that are strong." Charles said quietly. Raymond turned to him, a shocked look on his face.

"Even though we work our hardest, we still don't have enough to keep our village alive. Every year, we choose one courageous man to brave out into the ravaged world outside and bring back the Beloved Leader's necessary materials to keep us going. Every year, we have this test in order to determine who's strong enough to venture into the world outside. Usually, the winner is able to ensure our survival, but he succumbs to the infection."

Raymond opened his mouth, but he couldn't find his voice. The carnage before him was too much to bear. One man safely jumped over a pit of spikes only to be sawed in half by a buzz saw that suddenly appeared in his path. "Oh no!" a man cried out nearby, throwing a ticket on the ground "I was so sure he would win!"

"This is wrong." was all he could say.

"This is our way of life." Charles said.

"But your way of life is wrong!" Raymond cried out. Several people heard him and looked at him curiously. Charles hushed him again. "I said keep your voice down!"

"Why would you need someone strong to go out there? I'm a wimp, and I made it here fine! Sure, the world has its dangers, but you don't need to go through this to survive!"

"But the infection," Charles began, but Raymond cut him off.

"How many times do I have to tell you? There is no infection!" Now he was catching the attention of more people. Several had stopped their cheering entirely and stared at him.

"We have to stop this," Raymond said, pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the man in the striped suit, who was still holding onto the microphone, commentating on the ongoing race. "Oh!" his voice rang out. "Looks like dear Richard won't be able to walk his children to the schoolhouse anymore. Perhaps the carpenter can fashion him a fine wheelchair after the race, providing he survives it!"

Several people had begun to catch on to Raymond's true nature. They began to shout angrily towards him, grabbing at his clothes, their angry yells mixing with the excited cheers. Slowly, he made his way to the man in the striped suit.

"An outsider!" A voice yelled. More people turned to see where the commotion was coming from. Raymond pushed away his chasers and grabbed the microphone from the announcer's hand.

"STOP THIS RACE!" he yelled.



To be continued! Give me your feedback!

I GAVE BIRTH TO YOUUUUU UH-HAH UH-HAH UH-HAH

Here's an interesting internet trick from an interesting place: Google this phrase along with the quotation marks: "I shouldn't have kissed him/her" (him if you're a girl, her if you're a guy, or whichever floats your boat), remember the total number of results, then Google "I SHOULD have kissed her/him" (again, whichever you choose).

Usually, the internet is pretty much the underbelly of humanity, total chaos and no real clarity in sight. But it does happen, though rarely. Sometimes, in all of that mess, there's just a little clarity. We all think "I'm going to live my life without regrets!" or "Carpe diem! Do today what you could do tomorrow!" But how often is it that we really follow through? How often do we think to ourselves "I'm glad I made that choice"? It's rare, sometimes. That sounds ambiguous, but it really does depend on the situation. We make day-to-day decisions that affect our thoughts and feelings, some more lasting than others. Maybe it was a food choice (I'm glad i bought that salad instead of the cheeseburger) or maybe it was the decision to wake up (I'm glad I didn't miss class). These smaller decisions are more common. But what about the bigger picture? What about the things that don't simply last the day? What about the choices that have a more significant effect on our psyche?

Did you hug the person closest to you and tell them why they're so important? Did you apply for that job? Do you feel the plans you have made are the plans you want? Did you write that story? All these questions, plaguing the mind, never letting go, never letting you forget. It's stressful, and it's something we all face on a day to day basis. How is it possible to face these regrets and be able to stand straight?

That's easy. The thing about regrets is that they're awesome teachers. "I should have kissed her" teaches you that sometimes, you just have to take that leap of faith. "That job could've been mine" becomes your drive to fill out that next application. "I wish I could put that into coherent words" instructs you to go out and find them.

No one's saying to go out there, pull a Whitman and sound your barbaric YAWP over the world. Because not everyone is ready for that quite yet. Someday, our YAWP will shake walls. But for now, it's okay to start small. "I'll try to make decisions that I'll be proud of" can soon become "I'm making decisions I'm proud of" as long as that's what you really want. Like they say, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. So just lose those regrets, step by step.

HEY MONICA'S BLOGGING!

HAY EVERYONE! MONICA'S BLOGGING NEXT TO ME LOLOLOLOLOL!!1

Okay, seriously now.

PSHHH HAHAHAHA

HA HA! OH MAN, OH MAN, I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING. POKING FUN AT MONICA'S SO AWESOME!

Okay, okay, I'm done now. Sorry Monica, it's just that I can't hel-PSHAHAHAHA!

HAHAHA OH GOD, I'M LAUGHING SO MUCH. I THINK I MIGHT PASS OUT FROM ALL THE LAUGHTER. SERIOUSLY THOUGH, SOMEONE HELP ME HAHAHAHAHA. WHY? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME LAUGH SO MUCH?? HAHAHAHA HAHAHA OH NO, OH NO HAHAHAHAHAHA HELPHAHAHAHAHAHA CAN'T BREATHEHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHA HAHA HA

When does hiding an easter egg become littering?

I've been thinking lately about coincidences (or, as my euro lit professor pronounces it, kaincidences). What brings me to this thought is an incident from a few days ago. Like most days (not so much lately) I walked over to the bus stop. Well, ran, really. I don't like missing the bus too often. When I got there, a lady was sitting on the bench waiting for the bus. I sat down next to her, and from the corner of my eye, I saw her take out a cigarette. I see the "No Smoking" signs that plaster the stops, but at the same time, people smoke around there all the time, so I ignored it. That is, until she lit up. The smell instantly told me she was smoking an entirely different plant.
Cigarettes, I've gotten used to smelling, since it's everywhere. Marijuana, on the other hand, I can't stand. Mainly because it smells so much like body odor. Like, I haven't showered for a long time and I sweat profusely type of body odor. So i was sitting there, keeping from gagging and trying hard not to make it look like I was supressing gags when two busses arrived. Both busses arrived to the stop I needed to get to, but they got there differently. One bus was the 72, which has lots of stops, and takes longer to where I needed to get. The other was the 72R, which got there much quicker. On a normal day, I would've taken the 72R. But today, the lady smoker expressed out loud her desire to take the R, so today it was the 72. Even though it takes longer to get to my stop, usually I don't have to wait to long. But today, for some reason, there was someone that needed to get on or off at EVERY stop, making the ride much, much longer. The R had passed us long ago.
By the time I reached my stop, My next bus was already leaving its stop. Had I taken the R, I would have been on it. But, my choice forced me to wait for the next bus. As I stood there, waiting to cross the street to the stop and cursing my luck and my choice, I heard an elderly lady behind me. She was asking the people around me, "Do you know how to get to Dana and Durant?" Everyone she asked either ignored her or shrugged. She wasn't going to get any help here. So I spoke up. "Actually," I told her. "That stop is on the 51, a little ways down." I pointed her to the right bus, which was the bus I happened to be taking. Funny thing is, Dana and Durant is the stop I always get off on when going to school. The old lady smiled. "Thank you. Have a nice day." When i got off at my stop, I was feeling pretty good, having done my good deed for the day.
Then I started thinking. Had I decided to go on the R, that lady might have still been asking around, not sure of what bus to take. Sure, she might have found help eventually, but because I was late, I was able to help her, when no one else did. Then I thought of how funny coincidence is, how things that seem like bad luck at first can actually become beneficial, maybe not for myself but for the sake of others. The smallest choices we make can have big impact on the whole. Take that day for instance. My missing the 51 allowed me to help that old lady. But the cause of that was my decision to take the 72 instead of the R. But the cause of that was the lady smoking weed. So that annoyance was a good thing but it goes even beyond that.
My time with the weed smoker was caused by my running late. But my running late was caused by my desire to have 5 more minutes of sleep. But the cause of that was my staying up a few extra hours. And the cause of that was a really interesting chapter. See where I'm going with this? Coincidence is always thought to be because of chance, but maybe that's not it. Maybe coincidence is the result of the choices we make. I don't know, but even if we have that predetermined route that leads to some chance encounter or occurence, I'm still amazed and awed by it. These small miracles that dot our day might seem insignificant or just by chance, but don't you think it's pretty amazing that out of the vast pool of things that could have happened in that small encounter, a coincidence occured?

Wanna hear a long joke? Joooooooooke

Three guys are on a boat, sailing on the ocean on a clear, beautiful day. They decide to do some fishing, so they take out their poles, put some bait on the hooks, cast their lines and begin to wait. The first guy says to the second guy: "Hey, do you think we'll get anything?" Before the second guy can say anything, the third guy blurts out: "I don't know, man. It doesn't look like we'll be getting too many bites." The second guy is a little annoyed that he was interrupted, but he lets it go. An hour passes by, and still, no bites. The first guy says again to the second guy: "Do you think we'll have any luck?" And again, before he can reply, the third guy again interrupts: "Well, maybe our luck will change, but I'm pretty convinced we're outta luck." The second guy is now visibly upset, but he decides to once again let it go. Another hour passes and they have nothing. The first guy lets out a sigh and says to the second guy: "Maybe we should pack up, clouds are beginning to form." and once again, before he can say anything, the third guy cuts in: "Yeah, definitely." The second guy can't take it anymore, so he says "Damn, Eric, can't you let a guy just talk?!" The third guy's speechless. "Jesus, Paul, sorry, okay? I didn't think you'd be so bitchy about this." The first guy intervenes. "Paul's right. I've been trying to talk to him all day and you keep just butting in. Can't you show some restraint?" The third guy's taken aback. "Not you too, Marty? Come on, man, I thought you were putting those questions out in the open. If you wanted to talk to Paul, you should've called him. You just asked those questions as if they were meant for the group!" Paul shakes his head "Whatever, man. Let's just get out of here, it looks like a storm's coming." As if it was scripted, thunder began to rumble, along with the flash of lightning. Rain suddenly begins to pour. "Jesus!" Marty yells over the roar of the rain. "We gotta get out, pronto!" The men scramble to the cabin and start the engine. Nothing. Suddenly, a huge wave slams over the boat, nearly tipping it. "Oh God, oh God, oh God," Eric mumbles to himself. "We're gonna die here!" Paul smacks him in the face. "Get it together! We're NOT going to die here! Not today!" Eric straightens up and looks at Paul. "Thanks, man. I needed that. Sorry for calling you bitchy." Paul flashes a smile and says "Apology accepted." Marty throws some rope to both men and says "Alright, ladies. Enough with the tearful reconciliation. Tie yourself to something sturdy and get ready for a bumpy ride." For the next few hours, all three men are grabbing on for dear life as wave after wave slam onto the side of the ship. For such a small boat, it's hanging on fairly well. But, despite its tenacity, it sinks below the waves.
Paul wakes up to find himself on the shore of a tropical island. He looks around, and sees Marty nearby. He quickly crawls over to him and shakes him awake. "Marty! Marty! We're alive! We made it!" Marty quickly gets up and looks around. He lets out a big laugh and says: "You're right! I can't believe it!" But suddenly, his laughter is cut short. "Where's Eric?" Paul's grin quickly disappears. "Oh no. Oh God, no." He points out to the nearby surf. Both men can see what's left of Eric as it quietly disappears below the waves. "Oh-" is all Marty can say before he has to empty his stomach. "Oh why..." Paul whispers. "OH GOD WHYYYYY?" Both men are quietly sobbing, mourning the death of their dear friend. But before they can go out to retrieve the remains, men in leaves and loincloths equipped with spears run out of the forest and surround them. Both men are suddenly filled with a mixture of fear and sorrow. In the midst of the strangers, a heavyset man with warpaint on his face walks up to them. "WHITE MEN" he bellows. "YOU HAVE COME TO MY UNTOUCHED PARADISE. THIS HAS UPSET ME." The men cower at his yelling. "IF YOU WISH TO LIVE," he continues. "YOU MUST GO OUT INTO THE FOREST, COLLECT 10 OF ANY FRUIT, AND PLACE IT UP YOUR BUTT. IF YOU CAN DO THIS WITHOUT FLINCHING, I WILL LET YOU LIVE. BUT BE WARNED," he adds. "IF YOU SO MUCH AS WINCE, MY MEN WILL IMPALE YOU!" Both men are visibly in tears, ready to break down. But then suddenly Marty stops. "Wait a second, chief. You said this is your untouched paradise?" The chief glares at him. "YOU DARE QUESTION ME? OF COURSE IT IS!" Marty looks at him square in the eye. "If that's the case, then why do you know English?" The chief is taken aback. "UH, WELL, YOU SEE..." but before he can offer an explanation, one of the men in loincloths says "Forget it, Frank. The jig's up." The chief attempts to stutter an explanation, but gives up. "Oh, alright! You've ended up on an island just off the coast of Florida. Me and the guys like to come here and spook anyone that comes by. Sorry about that." Paul, at first sobbing uncontrollably, finally yells out: "We were shipwrecked, you ass! We nearly died, except for out friend Eric! He actually died!" He says as he points toward the sea. "Please, help us get the body." Frank lets out a big sigh. "Oooh, I'm so sorry, guys. Yeah, we'll definitely lend a hand." The proper authorities were called, and eventually Eric's body was recovered. His widow was informed.

Moral of the story: never interrupt someone while he's talking

Wait, was I telling a joke?

ATTENTION

THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

HERE ARE GARLIC FRIES:













GARLIC FRIES ARE DELICIOUS. THEY MAKE YOU HAPPY. ESPECIALLY WITH COCKTAIL SAUCE.






HOWEVER. IT ALSO MAKES YOUR BREATH KILL PEOPLE.

THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT.

so there i was, right? (a story through the perspective of inanimate objects)

so there i was, being a backpack, right? there we were, walking to upper sproul me full of books and a binder, trying to make sure i didn't drop anything, when my owner suddenly lifts his left arm then lets it down. what's up with that?


so there i was, being shoes, right? there we were, the weight of the world inside of me, trying to avoid the gum and nasty stuff on the floor when all of a sudden the big guy upstairs slows down for a few paces, then suddenly speeds up. i was all like what the fuhhh?




so there i was, being a cellphone right? i was just sitting there, making sure i yelled if any calls came through, but none did, so it was pretty boring.




so there i was, being a two-week old wristband on his right arm, right? he had me at his side when we went down upper sproul. the he stabs me in the back and uses his left arm to reach for something! i couldn't see what it was, but i was all like aw helllll no!



so there i was, being earbuds, right? just pumping music into this poor guy's ears, because that's my job. there we were, walking down upper sproul, when this guy ahead of him holds out a paper in his direction. he reaches out to grab it, but the guy completely ignores him and moves the paper in another direction in mid-grab. how embarassing is that?

Picture story!

Dear Blog,

How are you? Today, I went to a supermarket. It sort of looks like this:



So here I was, with my good friend Cary, walking around, right? We're wandering around the produce aisle, which looks like this:


So there I am, wandering the aisle, when I hear someone.

"Excuse me!"

I turn to see who's talking to me. Right in front of me was this guy, a regular looking guy. Just a normal sort of guy, with glasses and a hat. The kind with a duck bill. I guess I could show what that would look like:


So then this guy says

"Hey! I really like your shirt!"

And I was like

"Thanks!"

And then he

"Do you mind if i take a picture?"

And then me, flattered

"Sure!"

And then he takes a picture and goes away. And I'm feeling really good, you know? Someone thought my shirt was cool! Then Cary points out how creepy that whole exchange was. Then I realize it was creepy. Then the guy shows up again!

"Here's my card"

I got his card! It was strange. It had his blog on it. Blog share! www.allaboutgeorge.com


Ok blog, I gotta go! I love you!

HAY GUISE

LAWLS I'M STARTING A BLOG!!!!!!1

FURREALS I'M GONNA WRITE ABOUT MAI LYFE AND AWESOME THINGS THAT HAPPENS IN IT! =D

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW EVERYONE ON THE INTERNET! I LOVE YOU AND COMMENT PLZ XD