Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Organized people are just too lazy to look for stuff.

So technically cluttered people are the better species.  Suck on that,  Container Store. We don't need you.  Albert Einstein once said, "If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, then what are we to think of an empty desk?"  (I have absolutely no creditable sources to prove that quote was actually from Albert Einstein.)  I love that quote, though.  I love any quote that means I can be lazy, messy, etc.  Quit with your judgement.

For all of you that don't religiously follow my facebook status updates, you need to start.  Just kidding.....but seriously.  Anyway, I can forgive.  What you've missed is the hilarity and chaos of a roadtrip I took down to San Diego.  Actually, not even the whole trip, just the ride back, if you can even call it that.  I was traveling with three friends, whom I shall call Hermoine, Fred, and George...... Let's begin:

In short, everything was going swimmingly until George's car went on a killing rampage.  We barely escaped with our lives.  First the alarm went off.....for roughly 13 consecutive hours.  No, that is not a joke.  It completely killed the battery.  So we did what anyone would do, we jumped the car.  Then the alarm came back on and killed the battery again.  So after about an hour and a half of jumping the battery with three different cars, starting it, and having it die because of the goddamned alarm, we decided to start fighting back.  And we did it with one of the deadliest weapons of all time: A pair of purple Crayola brand kindergarten scissors.  Oh yea.  Shit went down.

After hours of extensive research (5 mins on an iphone), we started cutting wires.  Surprisingly, and I mean VERY surprisingly, it worked.  Huzzah!  Well, kind of.  We took the fuse out of the horn, cut the LED lights to the alarm, cut all wires to the siren, completely took out the alarm system, and just for good measure, cut two more wires and took out some box that does something or other.
          
Now for the physical activity.  At this point we have established two things:  We can push start the car, and this car is the automotive spawn of Satan himself.  Hey, I like that.  I'm going to refer to the car as "Spawn" for here on out.  So after pushing Spawn a couple hundred yards off of the main road and into an apartment complex, we began sprinting, well "sprinting" is a relative term.  Anyway after four or five more tries we finally got it started, and proceeded to keep it turned on a running for the next 5-7 hours, including while filling up with gas (yes it's possible, I felt like I was on mythbusters).
          
So we get on the road, and are making our jolly way up the 5, perfectly on schedule to miss my economics class, when Spawn remembered that it hates us.  Seventy-five miles an hour down I-5 and BOOM!  What else could possibly make this experience better than a blown out tire at four in the morning.  Shoot me now.  It actually went okay for being stuck on a busy interstate in the middle of God-knows-where in the wee hours of the morning.  Our new mexican friend name Caesar was a very efficient and skilled worker, and we were right back on the road an hour later at full speed.
         
Oh wait, that's not true at all.  Because of our flawless planning and safety net plans, we were now cruising on an emergency tire with a maximum recommended speed of 55 mph.  Speed demons, that's what we were.  There go all my hopes and dreams of making it to my 8am econ class (Oh darn) Honestly though, there are very few things in this world as humbling as being passed by over 50 semi trucks and minivans.  I felt like a fat kid in a race.
          
Regardless, in our state of Stage 7 Delirium, we manage to get all the way to Elk Grove, where we could finally indulge in the one thing on this planet that can cure everything from hunger to insomnia to cancer (maybe): Chik-fil-a breakfast.  The glorious holiness of a chicken egg and cheese biscuit provided us with the stamina needed to push on, make Spawn our bitch, and finish the trip home.

And I can't forget to mention that during this whole adventure, George was battling with a severe, near death-inducing case of the Whooping Cough.  Thank you Halls, we owe you one.

The only other redeeming factor was that while we were flying down the interstate at the blazing pace of handicapped molasses, I am sufficiently convinced that we were passed by at least 6 out of the 10 main autobots and decepticons.

That was a long story, thanks for sticking with me.  If you didn't, then leave, you are not welcome here.

Screw the flu, AIDS, and the common cold.  The yawn has got to be the most contagious thing in the entire world.  The yawn is the slut of all natural bodily actions.  Quote me on that.

I don't know if you've ever watched the show Community, but you should.  It's hilarious.  Also, it's scarily accurate.  The student body at a community college is probably the most diverse thing I've ever seen, bar none.  Here are some examples:  There is a girl that finds it necessary to wear cat ears and a tail everyday.  It's like your six yr old Halloween costume, except she's 20 years older and fat (it's not mean if it's true).  Second, there are countless Japanese people fulfilling stereotypes perfectly.  For example, their hair looks like they just got beat up by a freaking rainbow.  Some of it looks good, but some people look like they ran headfirst into the wall of spray paint cans at Walmart and kept it that way.

God bless America.

Shout out to Virginia Hirschey.

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