Thursday, February 27, 2003

Mike Seaver

I'm wearing my Mike Seaver shirt today. It's a tee-shirt with a picture of Kirk Cameron on it with a sparkly background. It has a pink collar and pink rings around the sleeves.

Yes, I realize there is a picture of an eighties TV hearthrob, and yes, I know there is pink on the shirt. Do you have a problem with it, because I don't.

You wouldn't believe the amount of flak I get for wearing this shirt, and not just from guys; most of it comes girls. Most guys just think it's "funny," "cool," or "awesome." It's the girls from whom I get sideways glares and not-so-subtle chuckles.

I'm not offended that people think what I'm wearing is strange. If I was I wouldn't wear it. I'm just confused as to why women give me so much guff over it.

Personally, I think they're offended that a guy is wearing something that is obviously meant to be worn by a girl. It's like I'm invading their territory.

For too long women have been androgenizing men's clothing. They've taking to wearing pants, tee-shirts, baseball caps, etc. I guess they never thought that a guy could or would want to start wearing "feminine" colors or clothes.

Well, I'm taking back all the ground that guys have lost in the battle of appropriate clothing. Break out your skirts and blouses, men, we're going in! We're going to fight, and we're not going to stop until we can wear high heals and hot pink if we want to. You had better be prepared, women, because here we come!

Well, maybe not. But, bitches, step off me when I'm wearing my Mike Seaver shirt.

Tuesday, February 25, 2003


From now on -- and without an explanation -- she'll be refered to as "Cutfoot." All that needs explaning is that I like her (whatever that means) and that I'm pretty sure she doesn't like me. On with the story:

Sunday night (early Monday morning) I couldn't go to sleep because I was thinking about Cutfoot. This is nothing new, but it is odd because I haven't really thought of (pined for, rather) her in a month or so. Well, the next day at dinner I saw her in the cafeteria. (Keep in mind that she lives across campus in a dorm with its own cafeteria.) Me being me, I didn't say anything to her. So I guess it's not just coincidence when I saw her again later that day in the library. Thinking that maybe this was a sign from God to talk to her, I approached Cutfoot and struck up a conversation.

Maybe I suck at making pleasant conversation, maybe she really wanted to get back to studying, or maybe Cutfoot just really hates me, but that was one of the most painful conversations I've ever had. She basically looked off into space while I talked, and when I asked her questions she would give me the briefest of answers. Trust me, it was gruesome (even for a conversation between me and an attractive girl, which usually end with forced smiles and rolling eyes).

Despite all this, after I gave Cutfoot a hasty "good-bye" and walked away, I felt free. I don't have to worry about impressing her anymore. Cutfoot has absolutely no interest in me, and knowing this for sure makes it so much easier to just walk away. No more thinking about her late into the night. No more wondering what she'd say if I said this. No more pining and wishing and hoping. No more.

Monday, February 24, 2003

Three of Spades

It was the Three of Spades this time: Today when I was leaving my Writing About Literature class. It was laying face-down, and I picked it up on my way out of the class.

The second time had been similar. It was several days ago, maybe Wednesday or Thursday. At lunch I had gotten up to get a drink and on my return trip back to the table I almost stepped on a playing card. I picked it up, the Three of Diamonds. I gave it to my roommate and thought nothing more of it.

The first time was about a month ago. It was the Eight of Clubs then, sticking part of the way out of the snow on my way to work. I thought it was odd, so I wrote it down and dated it. Friday, January 24th.

It was a month ago today. What does that mean? It has to mean something; three times in such a short period of time can't just be a coincidence. It's as if I'm solving a murder mystery and the killer is leaving me clues. But no one has been killed, and the only mystery is what goofy klutz is walking around dropping playing cards everywhere?


If you're going to whisper-and-giggle-fuck, don't do it in public. I'm alright with people kissing and holding hands in public. But I can only handle your lovey-dovey affection crap for so long before I want to punch you straight in the face.

Friday, February 21, 2003

Interpreting a Poem

Iterpretation [of a poem] is not the art of construing but the art of constructing. Interpreters do not decode poems; they make them.
--Stanley Fish, "How to Recognize a Poem When You See One," Falling into Theory: Conflicting Views on Reading Literature

New Saying

Bob's Pitiful Attempt to Create a Popular New Saying

Thursday, February 20, 2003

No Personality

My friends and I play a game where we try to correlate my three roommates and I with a pre-existing group of four (such as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the Beatles, or the Ghost Busters). Whenever we play this game my friends have trouble placing me. I usually end up being the last guy left over; whichever person does not fit any of the other roommates. The other day I realized why this was so hard for my friends to place me: I have no personality.

Tuesday, February 18, 2003


I used to hate being singled-out and praised in high school. It's not that anyone in high school made fun of me for standing out; but it was a remnant of my middle shcool career, a mental note that being different will get you picked on.

Today my General Psychology professor singled me out of the entire class to pay me a compliment. It was completely different this time. I liked it. I guess the difference was in high school and middle school there was a clear delineation between the intelligent kids, the average kids, and the not-so-intelligent-or-average kids. And when the intelligent kids keep getting a lot of attention, the other kids probably started to resent them.

Here in college, though, everyone is pretty much just as smart as everyone else (or at least pretending to be), so when I got the chance to be special again -- set apart from the "other kids" -- I felt good.

Monday, February 17, 2003

The Beautiful Duckling

In the nest of one mother duck, hidden away in a small forest glade, lay several yellow oblong eggs, all perfectly smooth and beautiful, except for one. This one was slightly bigger, brown, and altogether ugly. When the day came that the eggs began to hatch, the ugly brown egg remained still. Mother Duck counted one - two - three - four little, grey, down-covered ducklings, and then she noticed the remaining unhatched egg. She decided that she would wait to see if it would eventually hatch. After two days it still hadn’t hatched. Just as Mother Duck was about to push the egg out of the nest, it began to stir, and not too long after an awkward, sparsely-feathered bird came tumbling out. Mother Duck saw that the little bird was ugly, but she smiled just the same.

After several weeks Mother Duck decided that it was time for her young to learn to swim. So she lined up her five little ducklings behind her and headed toward the nearby lake. The Ugly Duckling walked behind the rest of the others. He kept stumbling as his disproportionally long legs tripped him up, and he clumsily trailed several feet behind his siblings. They turned and chided him for being so clumsy and ugly, then they quickly ran to catch up to Mother Duck. Ugly Duckling tripped once more, and when he got up he couldn’t see his siblings or his mother anywhere. He continued on in the same direction they had been walking, hoping to find his family.

Ugly Duckling soon came upon a pond. He saw several great and beautiful swans swimming, but did not see his family. He sat down at edge of the pond and began to cry. One of the swans swam over to Ugly Duckling and asked, “What is the matter, little one?”

“My family and I were on our way to the lake and they left me behind because I am so clumsy and ugly,” replied Ugly Duckling. “I wish that I was beautiful like you; perhaps my family would like me. Can you help me?”

“First of all,” Swan said, “the lake where your mother and brothers are is only a short way through the wood in that direction. As for being beautiful like me, I can help you with that also. A long time ago others thought that I was ugly, too, but I ignored their tauntings and teasings, and I loved them despite their harsh words. Come back to my pond once a month and look at your reflection in the water. Eventually, you will be as beautiful as I am.”

Ugly Duckling thanked the swan and waddled off through the forest to find his family. The other swans swam over to the Beautiful Swan and asked him, “Why did you tease that ugly duckling so? He is already ugly, he does not need you to mock him.”

Beautiful Swan said, “Just wait. One day, that little ugly duckling will grow up to be beautiful just like me.

As instructed, Ugly Duckling came to the swans’ pond every month. He came with stories of his brothers’ cruel jokes and mean words. Beautiful Swan reminded him to repay meanness with kindness. And every visit Ugly Duckling gazed into the water and looked at his reflection. Then he would bid farewell to Beautiful Swan and waddle back home to his family. As time went on Ugly Duckling had fewer and fewer stories to tell about his brothers’ hurtful actions. They were growing to respect his kind heart and to love their ugly brother. The months passed and Ugly Duckling grew bigger, but much to the dismay of the other swans, he did not seem to be getting any more handsome.

One day Ugly Duckling, who had grown into an ugly duck, came to Beautiful Swan’s pond but had not stories to tell about his brothers. He didn’t even look into the pond to see his reflection. He simply thanked Beautiful Swan and left the pond content with his beauty, or rather, lack of beauty.

The other swans gathered around Beautiful Swan and asked him, “Why did Ugly Duck not look at his reflection? Was he ashamed that he was still ugly and did not grow to be beautiful like you?”

“On the contrary,” said Beautiful Swan, “he finally realized that he was beautiful and had been all along. Just as the water in the pond reflects one’s physical beauty, a person’s friends and family reflect one’s beautiful personality.”

Saturday, February 15, 2003

Post-Valentine's Day Joy

Yesterday was the best Valentine's Day ever. I wasn't depressed and I didn't worry about women. It was a very peaceful day. I even went to bed early. (Well, it was early for me: 2:00am.) I feel very refreshed.

Thursday, February 13, 2003

Down Again

Despite today's good, scratch that, excellent weather, I'm not feeling it. Today is just a downer day for me (for no real apparent reason). Days that I feel like this sometimes make me wonder if I might have a mild form of Bipolar Disorder. Or maybe I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003

Place Your Bets

We're taking bets on when Ju-- will break up with his girlfriend. I bet today or tomorrow; you know, try to get it out of the way before Valentine's Day.

Tuesday, February 11, 2003

The Power of One

Exerpt from Bryce Courtenay's The Power of One:
I remained unsaved, unborn-again, despite the fact that I was officially slated in the minds of every lady in the church as my mother's special prayer burden. I guess if they'd known what was going on in the prison they'd have mounted a whole revival campaign to try to bring me to the Lord. Once I asked in Sunday school if black was equal with white in heaven. The Sunday school teacher, a lady with big breasts and a sharp nose named Mrs. Kostler who looked like a fat pigeon, stopped in midreply and sent one of the other kids to look for Pastor Mulvery.

"Not exactly, but not exactly not," Pastor Mulvery said and then, thumbing through Mrs. Kostler's Bible, he read, "In my father's house are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you." He put the Bible aside. "'Many mansions' is the Lord's way of saying that he loves all of mankind but that he recognizes there are differences, like black and white. So he has a place for black angels and another place for white angels," he said smugly. I could see he was pretty pleased with his reply.

A girl called Zoe Prinsloo asked, "Does that mean we don't have to have dirty kaffirs* in our mansion?"

"Ag, man, Zoe," Mrs. Kostler cried, "In heaven nobody is dirty, you hear, not even kaffirs!"

"Will they still work for us?" I asked.

Mrs. Kostler looked to Pastor Mulvery for a reply. "Of course not. Nobody works in heaven," he said, a little impatiently.

"If nobody is dirty and nobody works in heaven and black and white are equal, why then can't they live in the same place as us?"

Pastor Mulvery gave a deep sigh. "Because they are black and it wouldn't be right, that's all. The Lord knows more about such things that we do, man. We mustn't question the wisdom of the Lord. When you are born again you'll understand his infinite wisdom and you won't ask such silly questions." I knew Mrs. Kostler would report all this at the next ladies' prayer meeting and I'd have to face another session with my mother. It wasn't easy being a sinner.

*kaffir -- black person

Sunday, February 09, 2003


Mr. McBastard,

Not a whole lot happening here either. Just workin and stuff. I am done with school up at Crap-Hole U. So it is basically just working. We are trying to save some money for the baby, BUt that is kind of difficult working at Wally World. Which reminds me, I got promoted. I am on the Support Team in TLE. So I'm like Mark.....HAHAHAHAHHAHA!! Jorge is still stupid. That dumb dog. I want to ring his little neck, but then he just looks at me with those big stupid eyes. I am such a sap in my old age! Other than that, I am good. I began reading the Bible and I have decided to live for the Lord. It's funny how the world is all starting to make sense. What do you think.



I think it's great that you've found something to believe in. And I wish I could help you as you continue to grow closer to God. But in recent times I've shyed away from Christianity in order to stand back and get a broader view of faith and religion in general. To find out what it is that I truly believe and why. But I wish you luck as you endeaver into this new faith. It is an exciting time, to be sure. Goodbye. I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers.

--Mr. McBastard

Friday, February 07, 2003

Gimme a Fucking Break

Would it be too much to ask for you to treat me like everybody else?

Thursday, February 06, 2003

No Tomorrow

Shoes have never been so wet and heavy
Sidewalks have never been so cold and lonely
Each concrete block, a stepping stone
Upon the pathway to Alone
Two layers of clothes can't warm like arms around me

Inhaling the night
The winter rain bites
Exhale nimbus clouds
With each deep sigh

There is no tomorrow
Repeats of yesterday
Black and smudged, no color
Everyday blends to grey
There is no tomorrow

Moonless, cloud-stained sky pressing down
Headlights and lamps spills pools onto the ground
Navigate the cement maze
Follow cracked lines through the haze
Two layers of clothes can't guard against the raincloud

Walk alone, you stranger to yourself
Walk alone, you're stranger to yourself

There is no tomorrow
Repeats of yesterday
Black and smudged, no color
Everyday blends to grey
There is no tomorrow

Inhaling the night		Repeats of yesterday
The winter rain bites	Black and smudged, no color
Exhale nimbus clouds	Everyday blends to grey
			There is no tomorrow
With each deep sigh

Tuesday, February 04, 2003


Left on the chalkboard in my General Psychology class from some previous class:

8 X

I assume "8 X" means eight times. I guess I should feel happy for Desiree.

Sunday, February 02, 2003

Sober Driver

I was Delta Chi Sober Driver last night from 11:00pm to 2:00am. It wouldn't have been a bad thing had the Delta Chi party actually been . . . a party. Almost no one was there, so I sat around for about two and a half hours doing nothing (read: sulking). All my other friends were at the AG Rho party having fun and I felt sorry for myself because they were off having fun without me. (I have this fear that I'm going to be left out of my friends' fun, so when it actually happens I get really sad.) So, I guess that's what started to make Saturday night a "bad night."

One-thirty rolls around and my friends come busting the Delta Chi doors down and I'm cheered up for a bit until they all get on my case for not having any fun. It's a lot easier to have fun when your not a sober driver. My friends started to get bored and I drove most of them home (other's just kind of wandered off), and by the time I dropped the last of them off, it was 2:00am. I didn't want to stick around D'Chi to see if it would "pick up."

When I got back up to my room, I found one of my friends from down the hall, Ra--, and a friend of one of my roommates, Ju--, who had come up to visit, both making out on my couch. Pissed. Ra-- has her own fucking room not ten feet from my room; why she couldn't have been making out (I use the term making out quite liberally here, as her shirt was almost off when I walked in.) in her room, I don't know. So I go to my friend's room, grab her room key, and go to a mutual friend, Je--, telling her to get Ra-- out of my room. While Je-- is doing this I try to get my other roommate, who is drunk, to quit bothering some ladies down the hall and go to bed. It proves harder than expected and I eventually give up. Then I try to console another drunk friend that thinks he is in love with some stupid, vapid, and only slightly attractive chick. This also proves difficult, so I just leave him alone. He'll forget all about it in the morning, anyway I think. I go back to my room to see if people are still making out, and before I get there Je-- assures me that they will leave in two minutes.

Well, I'm all riled up from the excitement, and not ready to go to bed now, so I go outside into the freezing cold for a late-night run. I must have run two or three miles. When I get back, Je-- is passed out so I can't ask her if Ra-- and Ju--'s visiting friend are out of the room. I flip on the lights, see what I think are Ju--'s boots by his bed, flip the lights back off, go into the bathroom, and proceed to take a twenty minute shower. When I get out, I hear kissing and moaning. Then I hear Ra--'s voice. PISSED. I am not going to listen to that all fucking night. I put on underwear and pants and go to Je--'s room. Her roommate is kind enough to let me in and let me sleep on their couch.

All in all, a very agravating night.

Saturday, February 01, 2003

Bid Night

I went to our Delta Chi Bid Night Party last night. It was pretty good as far as D'Chi parties go; a few pretty girls, an ass-ton of bad dance music, and lots of under-age drinking.

Today I just realized that the entire time last night I didn't even try to meet any ladies (or any new guys, for that matter). I guess I'm just so cynically appathetic towards finding a girlfriend (or a girl friend or a make-out buddy or a mate or whatever the fuck I'm "looking for") that I've just given up.

Despite not really mingling, I did have fun last night. I hadn't gotten drunk in a while, and I forgot how much fun it is. Wow, that was such a frat-boy thing to say. But it's true. I like getting just a little drunk and bull-shitting with friends. I think that it was even better last night since I hadn't had a drink in a couple months. It was like last week when i had ice cream for the first time in a couple weeks.

Circa Now