So it’s been a while since I’ve written anything. I recently returned to school after a little break, and I spent the majority of my time doing things that no self-respecting human being should ever do; eating, watching TV, playing video games, really just bumming around. There’s no need to tell me what a load of worthless shit I am, my mother’s done that about 12 times in the past month. I’m just kidding, she doesn’t swear. She hits. Anyway, I’ll recount some of the more grandiose (see that word, it’s golden) adventures of my stint back at home. Actually, what you’re about to read is a list of things that I will probably never do in my life. Not that I don’t want to do them; I do. It’s just that this whole “being a responsible adult” thing kinda gets in the way of a lot of fun stuff I was planning on doing. So here are a few stories about the amazing life I’ll never have. Here goes nothing.
I walked over to a friend’s house the other day. I was going to drive, but I had just seen a commercial on TV with a polar bear and a melting ice cap, so I decided to get my green on and walk. Cheer up polar bear. I’ve got your back. Anyway, I went to my friend’s. Now, the usual agenda upon entering his house includes a number of little things that I can’t stand to do. For instance, it is quite literally impossible to keep his little rodent dog off your leg. It humps everything. So, I have to open the door real quick, get the feather duster from the shelf, and attempt to ward off this little beast, while at the same time not tripping over the myriad (what a word) of shoes that litter the doorway. The kid must have 300 pairs of shoes. That was an exaggeration. No but for real, with the amount of shoes that he has at his door you’d think 20 children lived in this place. I tripped over a ludicrous pair of rain boots that he had by his door for some reason, fell flat on my back, and almost broke my effing neck. I was not a happy camper.
Okay time out. That expression, “Not a happy camper.” It means you’re angry. I take some issue with this. Why do all of the campers have to be stereotyped? Just because you’re not a “happy” camper doesn’t necessarily mean you’re angry. What if you’re simply content? What then? You’d think that because of the positive connotations associated with alliterations, “I’m a content camper” would be a more popular phrase. Another thing, have you ever stopped to think just how frightening an Angry Camper would be? Just envision Timmy Stevens, Eagle Scout, coming at you because you knocked his sausage links off the campfire, or you interrupted his playing of Kumbaya on acoustic guitar, or ruined something else that campers do. It’d be pretty startling, and I don’t know if I have the physical prowess to defeat an Eagle Scout in a one-on-one confrontation. Even if I did, I’d probably need his survival skills to get out of the vast wilderness in which I’m almost sure we’d be camping. Eagle Scouts don’t just go to the county park, oh no. These guys get deep into trees, on some Narnia shit. “On my Narnia shit.” New phrase.
Anyway, I was inspired by my angry camper revelation, so I dragged my friend up from his basement and away from Halo Reach to get some people and go up north. Let me tell you, my friend was not at all excited about the prospects of spending time away from his Xbox or his Flaming Hot Cheetos. So when I say that I dragged him upstairs, I quite literally had to pull him up the stairs, which wasn’t easy. It’s okay though, got my workout in for that day. Fitness. So I rounded up some of the rest of ma peeps and we headed up north (see how I used “ma peeps,” it’s cool).
On the drive up, we engaged in various activities, many of which would take hours to explain, so I won’t. One thing I can tell you is that we successfully managed to catch a squirrel using only a Kleenex box and some stale Wavy Lays. Side note: I’d like to meet the guy in Frito-Lay’s marketing department who came up with the name “Wavy Lays.” Really, you couldn’t come up with something more creative? I know I’m repeating myself, but hop on the alliteration band wagon. Try out “Crinkly Crisps” or even “Golden Fancies.” I would buy chips with the name “Golden Fancies,” and if you wouldn’t you need to reassess your decision-making paradigm. Back to the squirrel. We decided to name him Glenn the Gallant, and he accompanied us over the next few days. He was a black squirrel with an awesome little grey line running from his tail up over his head and down his nose. It was kinda like a racing stripe. Scratch that, it was a racing stripe. Glenn was in love with me. I know it sounds arrogant and haughty to say it, but it’s okay, because I loved him back. God, I would hate to be known as an arrogant and haughty person. I think those are two of the worst qualities a person can have. That and disloyalty. If I ever get a hold of a Delorean, the first thing I’ll do is go back to the Revolutionary War and front up Benedict Arnold for trying to sabotage freedom. The guy backstabs America and now we have eggs with his fucking name? “Eggs Benedict?” Come on now. I’ve never had these traitorous eggs, but they’re probably fucking gross. I’m sorry about the language, but I get passionate about freedom. As of right now I’m starting a movement to change “Eggs Benedict” into “Eggs Jefferson.” Not only will they be delicious, but it sounds better too.
While we’re on the topic of American independence and freedom, I want to talk about a commercial that I viewed the other day while I was watching reruns of “America’s Funniest Home Videos.” God that stuff cracks me up, especially the ones with the animals. Anyway, this commercial was of George Washington driving a Dodge through the plains of an unnamed American state during the Revolutionary War, right down the British’s throats. Some weird looking Brit tells his officer to get ready or something, and then old George comes at them with 400 horsepower and an American flag. Suck on that, Redcoats. And there’s this great violin music in the background, so inspirational. First time I saw it I shouted and cheered like I was actually watching a televised version of the Revolution. People next door got pretty scared, but I could care less. I get up for freedom.
It was pretty sad when we had to let Gallant Glenn go, but a group of Park Rangers saw us frolicking around with him in the midst of the glorious wood and told us we had to let him go or they were taking us in for animal cruelty. They were jealous. You ever meet people like that, people who just because they aren’t having a good time get pissed and decide you can’t have one either? It’s bullshit. We did a ton of fun things right in front of those Rangers, to rub it in, like dancing and singing and taunting them, and we only stopped smiling and laughing when one of them pulled out his handcuffs and tried to stuff one of my friends into the back of a Jeep Wrangler.
So that was our woodland journey. There wasn’t all that much going on, so there isn’t really that much to report. Hopefully I’ll have another grand adventure for you guys soon, so stay tuned and stay irrelevant!