A dyslexic man walks into a bra....

.....That's all I got.  I don't really have anything to follow that.  Just be happy with what you have, nobody likes a greedy person.

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I recently started going to the gym consistently, [insert heavy sarcasm] as I'm sure all of you can tell.  My favorite part of the routine by far is just watching the characters that work out there.  The highlight of my week is going right after my class on Tuesdays, and I'll tell you why.  Every Tuesday there is a girl that comes in for no other reason whatsoever than to impress a guy.  I have to give the credit to another guy in the gym that pointed this out to me, because it is priceless.  From the get-go, this guy strikes you as a superhuman.  I'm assuming from the scrubs he's a doctor (otherwise just a very creepy fake), and probably one that cuts out his own heart, transplanted it into a dying patient, finished the operation, and is now just running on pure awesomeness.  Basically the kind of guy who pats you on the back, and you list it on your resume.  The girl is actually very attractive, but must have some serious daddy issues.  Her structured workout plan is to use whatever machine is immediately next to whatever the guy is using.  This gets almost unwatchable when he's using the bench and she's trying to get the weights onto the bar. Anyway, this goes on for about an hour, the entirety of which she is forcing out little blurbs of conversation.  It's brutal, especially considering that her facial expressions when she's actually doing the workouts....well, let's just say they're not winning any beauty pageants.  It's like going up to do karaoke and just whistling the whole song.  It already sucks, and you're just making it worse.  I think the most brutal part, as pointed out to me by a staff member there, is that she doesn't noticed that he's married.

I've been doing a lot of driving lately, and that's a lot of time to think.  (when I'm not blessing the word with my angelic singing, that is.)  I've realized something about being on the road.  Now I'm sure you've all had those experiences where you've never seen a person before at all, but something happens and you immediately feel like you know that person, and feel like they're your friend.  Most of the time you're wrong.  Actually I'd say you're always wrong.  It's okay, I'm wrong too.  Anyway, one of these instances occurs when you're driving on the interstate for long distances.  Actually there are two times this happens, for me at least.  The first is when you're driving for a minimum of three hours, and you're with the same car(s) the whole time.  You're dodging the same speed traps, passing the same people, and going the same speed.  Well sometimes one person is going a little faster than the other, but you speed up to stay with them because hey, you're friends and you can't let them do this alone.  The other instance is when somebody on the highway has the exact same car as you.  Same make, same model, same color.  Bonus points if it's the same year.  It may just be me, but when I find myself a situation where either of these are true, well hot damn, I've got a new brother.  In my mind, these guys/girls are here to stay.  They have my back.  If a cop starts chasing them, by damn I'm gonna run him off the road, and I'm sure they'd do the same for me.  However, it does get painful, because the journey comes to an inevitable end, and usually the jerkoffs leave without even saying goodbye.

Has anybody else noticed a trend of saying "me like" in rap songs instead of "I like"?  I mean I know that rappers aren't rappers because they majored in english, but I'm pretty sure you learn that level of grammar right off the bat.  It hurts to listen to, but I can understand when they use bad grammar to make the syllables flow better or even to rhyme, but "me like" and "I like" have the same number of syllables.  What's the excuse here?  It doesn't even sound better!  It just makes you sound like a monstrous idiot.  Unless Nicki Minaj is saying it.  Then it just sounds like an infant trying to talk.  Which to be honest isn't that far from the truth.

For those of you keeping pace with the blog, you know how I feel about cereal.  For those of you who have no clue what I'm talking about, click here and read the first paragraph of this blog to catch up.  Anyway, while in a state of delusion and incredible hunger, I made a trip to the grocery store (mistake 1).  Among my completely irrational list of purchases including six boxes of pop tarts (that's 48 pop tarts for you math whizzes) and four bottles of italian dressing, I decided I would lower my guard and give cereal another shot.  I've been hating on it for a while now, as my friend Captain Crunch can tell, and being the fair and reasonable human that I am, I wanted to see if maybe I'd been at fault before.  I wasn't.  Cereal sucks.  Hard.  I hate it, and it actually makes me mad to eat it.  That's why as of today, I am declaring all out war on Kellogg's, General Mills, Post, Quaker Oats, Malt-O-Meal, and every other breakfast ruining manufacturer out there.  I will not stop until all of you are out of business and possibly dead.  You have been warned.

I've been thinking, and I want to have a slogan.  Like for myself.  Just in case I ever need to be on a billboard.  So far, this is what I've come up with for options:

-TAB: Six feet and three inches of average.

-TAB: Eats more bacon than the Northern Hemisphere.

-TAB: It's not my fault.

-TAB:  Just like you, but better.

-TAB: ....Probably not a zombie.

The other morning I woke up hungry.  Stay with me, it's get even more intense.  "Woke up hungry" is probably the wrong way to say it.  I wake up hungry every morning.  This time, the hunger woke me up.  And it was furious.  I woke up, and before I could even process where I was, I had the urge to start eating anything and everything within reach.  Luckily, I have a near unbreakable will power and extremely high level of self control.  (Side note: neither of those are true whatsoever, and may in fact be completely false.)  I leapt out of bed and went straight to the kitchen, determined to eat the first thing I saw.  I did.  Protein powder, when dry, may be one of the most disgusting things I've ever put in my mouth.  I powered through, though, and moved on to the refrigerator.  Long story short, I ended up with a half pound of ribs and bacon breakfast sitting in front of me, waiting to be demolished.  And oh how glorious it was.  If you've never woken up around 8am and kicked of your day with two deliciously carnivorous meats soaked in grease and/pr barbecue sauce, I highly recommend it.  No, I demand it.  In fact, do it tomorrow.  Either that or you belong in PETA, and if you know anything about m how I feel about PETA.  We have slightly differing views.  They do their thing, and I stick to the motto "There's room for all God's creatures......right next to the mashed potatoes."

Speaking of PETA, I was surfing the twitter ocean the other day and came upon PETA's twitter.  I clicked on it to see what ridiculous, illogical and immoral nonsense they were coming up with.  After reading a few tweets, I decided to respond.  It's not what you think!!  I responded in logical, well though out tweets, designed to be unoffensive and legitimate.  At first.  Then it got out of hand.  End result?  I've now been blocked.  That's three blockages for those of you counting.  (The other two are some Barney fraud and Jesse McCartney.)

Yesterday, while scavenging through my barren kitchen, I found a lone can of tuna.  The problem came when I realized the only bread I had was the 2 end pieces.  The end pieces of a loaf of bread are like the cousin -in -law.  You leave them alone for as long as you can, then when it's just you and them, you realize how much you really hate them.  I was in a predicament.  I refuse to eat the tuna alone, because I'm picky, and for those of you mentally telling me I should've mixed it with mayo, I want you to walk into you kitchen, grab a knife, preferably a sharp one (remember rub your finger sideways across it, not up and down, you don't want to cut yourself), now swallow the knife and die.  I hate mayonnaise, and you should too.  Mayo is what takes the place of souls when they're sold to the devil.  In fact, I'm pretty sure Hell is constructed with mayonnaise.  This is great, you've completely distracted me and I have no idea where I was going with this.  Don't apologize, your words are no good here.

Fact of the Day:  The strings on the animal cracker containers were originally put there so the box could be hung on a Christmas tree.

Shout out to Thomas Grap.

Rules of Grammar: Double negatives are a No-No.

I don't think double negatives are not fun.  Lord that makes things confusing.  You still with me?  Good. I promise I'll lay off those soul-less grammar bits from now on.


As some of you might notice, this is actually an old blog.  I wrote it right before my blog got deleted.  Some of you may have read it, but guess what?  The world doesn't revolve around you.  Plus, you're an idiot and probably forgot most of it anyway.  I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.  Anyway, I have recovered this particular post, and wouldn't want to rob those of you who haven't read it or those who would like to read it again.  Whilst reading, just pretend that you were reading it around, oh say, April 20th?  Thanks for sticking with me.  Also, if you haven't noticed, I've added links to The Daily Tablet's Facebook page so you can "like" it, my Twitter account, and a special "Tweet This" link that shares this blog with your twitter followers.   Feel free to use and/or abuse them.  Now on to the more important matters.

You know what's awesome?  Bacon.  You know what sucks?  Stubbing your toe.  Those have literally nothing to do with this.  Moving on.  I am a very superstitious human being.  That being said, I have a flight scheduled from Phoenix to Los Angeles on Friday, the 13th of May.  Friday the 13th.  Ring any bells?  Yea, if you watch the news and see some pathetic little child sobbing in the corner of the airport, that'd be me.  You'd better believe I'm taking every lucky charm I own onto the airplane with me.  Hell I might even take a box of the cereal too.  (I'm talking about the cereal called Lucky Charms.  Try to keep up.)  I'll be indulging in all my lucky traditions as well, including, but not limited to, showering backwards and eating what I call an "Anti-sandwich", which is two pieces of turkey and ham with a slice of bread in the middle.  I'll be taking lucky donations too.  And trust me, if I see one of those carts in the airport selling rabbit's feet, I'll be on that shit like Charlie Sheen on a pornstar made of amphetamines.

Do you know what an anagram is?  If you don't, go look it up.  I'll wait.  Okay, now that you're up to speed, here are some of my favorite anagrams for your viewing pleasure:

[Word] --> [Anagram]

Dormitory --> Dirty room

Astronomer --> Moon starer

Mother in law --> Woman Hitler

The Morse Code --> Here come dots

Eleven plus two --> Twelve plus one

Recently I had the chance to visit an old friend in South Carolina, I'll call him Prancer.  I had not seen Prancer in a very long time, and I'm not sure I'd ever been to South Carolina, so I went.  It was a beautiful trip, and I had a great time.  The story ends there.  Oh wait, did I mention I was almost killed by a demon-possessed, Fanta-hating, half conscious lunatic?  Well okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but let me explain.  Whilst enjoying my stay in the wonderful home of the University of South Carolina,  I stayed at Prancer's house.  He lives in a quaint four bedroom house with three roommates in a nice part of town, and his roommates are all pretty cool guys.  One of the roommates, who I'll call Hulk for reasons you'll see later, is a particularly nice dude.  However, as you may not know, the Hulk has diabetes.  Now I have several friends with diabetes, and I have been warned that I myself might acquire it later in life, so I thought I was pretty knowledgeable on the subject.  I was wrong.  One morning while playing Halo, my game was interrupted when Prancer informed me that the Hulk wasn't responding.  He had only checked once, so I wasn't worried, and just kind of laughed it off.  After another twenty minutes, though, the Hulk was still unresponsive.  Here's where things start to get interesting.  Like the unselfish human that I am, I quit playing Halo and went to see what I could do (which I quickly realized was nothing).  Upon entering the Hulk's room, I found him curled up peacefully on his futon.  I thought it was pretty innocent until I realized that he might not be breathing.  He was, though, don't jump to conclusions.  Prancer informed me that he was definitely alive, but his blood sugar was very low.  Now I'm no doctor, but I can't say I was wrong when I assumed that when diabetics have low blood sugar they get disoriented and weak.  Disoriented?  Yes.  Weak?  No.  Very no.  He was turning away from the drinks we were trying to give him, so we decided to do what any four college-aged, non-medically trained males would do: pin him down and pour Fanta down his throat until he drank some.  There were several things wrong with our strategy.  First off, it was a grape Fanta, and everybody knows that grape anything sucks.  Second off, I was not aware that diabetes gives you superpowers.  Three of us started to pin him down, while the fourth used one hand to hold him and the other to pour the Fanta.  This worked flawlessly for about 3.7 seconds.  Then the innocent little sleeper went rogue.  In a split second he had literally thrown all four of us off of him, was standing up, and was moving towards me with his fist cocked back ready to knock me back into the 2nd dimension.  I don't know what made him come towards me.  Maybe it was cause I was the only one he didn't recognize.  Maybe he didn't like my face.  I don't know.  He froze though, thankfully, and Prancer offered him some Fanta.  Another useful fact is that the Hulk also sports a severe hatred for Fanta.  He slammed the can out of Prancer's hand with amazing force, then instantly curled back into a ball and resumed his beauty sleep like nothing had happened.  Long story short, we got him to drink a coke. (Side Note: I have NEVER in my LIFE seen someone drink a Coca Cola that fast without burping, crying, or vomiting.)  He was fine and we all laughed it off in the end, but I have to say, it was quite an experience.  

Fact of the Day:  Sheep can survive for up to two weeks buried in snow drifts.

Shout out to Vance Benson.

Science: If you aren't pissing people off, you aren't doing it right.

That also works for pranking, terrorism, and PDA.

Click the Follow button over there dammit.  It takes nine seconds, then you can get back to my wonderful writing.

I'm pretty sure when they make shopping carts, like the ones for Walmart, etc, they break them before they even send them to the stores.  Either that, or we're still using the same ones from 1963, just with a new coat of paint.  I say this because in my 22 years of life, I have never once had a shopping cart that didn't have some kind of defect.  Whether it's steering to one side, missing a wheel, or on the verge of bursting into flames, I have never had a fully functional shopping experience.

I still continue to be amazed at today's drugs.  Not like heroine or crack or any of the "recreationally" used ones, I mean the prescription, legal, and advertised drugs.  You know, the ones that come on commercials that can fix every little thing that's wrong with you......and then cause thirteen other problems worse than the ones you had.  I was watching TV yesterday when an ad for some pill came on, and I was pretty zoned out until I heard the guy that's on speed that talks at the end of the commercials.  Basically all was dandy til he came on, and through the waterfall of words I managed to catch, "...may also cause tuberculosis and several types of cancer."  No, you didn't misread that.  SEVERAL TYPES OF CANCER.  Seriously?  We spend our entire lives trying to avoid a few specific deadly diseases, and cancer is vying for the top of the list.  Several types??  With that risk, I wouldn't even take that pill if I already had cancer.  What illness could you possibly have that validates taking the risk of getting several types of cancer?!?  And don't you love how right at the part where they're telling you that this pill to help your heartburn could also be used as a nuclear weapon, they're always playing smooth jazz or some kind of elevator-esque music to sooth you into believing this "medicine" won't actually kill you and everyone within a 200 yard radius? I think there needs to be a line, and once it's crossed those drug companies should be required to end their commercials with this: "Warning:  Taking this pill can/will result in everything short of death, and in some cases, death itself."

Potlucks.  Potlucks are awesome.  Unless all of your friends suck at cooking and are in denial and refuse to just go buy something.  That being said, ours were always freaking awesome.  Luckily, all of my neighbors (I'll call us the Adams Family because unique barely begins to cover it) are wonderful cooks or wonderful realists who would just swing by the grocery store.  Either way, ours were great.

Here's what I assume a Stoner Potluck dinner would look like if they all smoked before:

-Sour Patch Kids

-Cheetos

-Brownies

-Flamin Hot Cheetos

-1 to 5 gallons of 7-11 Slurpees

-Flamin Hot Cheetos Lime Flavored

-Cookie Cake

-Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos

-Doritos

-Little Debbie Cakes

-Bagel Bites

-More Cheetos

Ladies and Gentlemen, you can rest easy now.  After a couple year stint, I can finally eat at Subway again.  After indulging in an ungodly amount of food per sandwich, I had disgusted myself to the point of vomiting, and essentially boycotted Subway for nearly three years.  Previous to now, if you had asked me if I wanted to go to Subway, I probably would have told you that I'd rather eat an actually subway train, then punched you in the kidney.  (Notice how I didn't hit you in the face.  I did so because chance are, you're driving, and you need to be able to see/think clearly to drive.  You're welcome.)

As of recently, three days ago in fact, I now accept credit cards.  Oh yea, I going big.  This stems from the fact that when I get bored, I start randomly downloading free apps on my iPhone.  Yes I have an iPhone.  I'm a Mac Brat.  I bit the Apple.  However you want to say it, it's true.  Unless you're saying I sold my soul to Steve Jobs, that's very inaccurate.  I lost my soul years ago for gambling talent, I actuaLly had to trade my conscience for this one, and let me tell you, it makes life a LOT easier.  Anyway, when I say I'm downloading random apps, I'm not just talking about the games, like most people do.  I download anything and everything.  From cameras, to editors, to alarms, to games, to sports, to music, to apps whose only purpose is to count how many times you open your phone.  (Also, one called "Hold On" which is an app that sees how long a user can hold a virtual button.  That's it.)  Anyway, during these entrepreneurial adventures, I come across a few good ones every now and then.  I just happened upon one called Square.  It turns your phone into a credit card processing machine.  They send you a free card reader that plugs into your phone and is about the size of a quarter.  Cool right?  How am I going to use it?  Well to be honest, I don't know.  That's really the entire point of this paragraph.  I feel the need to start a business for which I can use this app, and I'm drawing blanks for ideas.  Please comment below with your thoughts and ideas.  (No, you will not receive any compensation whatsoever for your efforts.  Think of it as your good deed for the day.)

I'm pretty sure if it came down to it, I could solely subsist on Lunchable Pizzas.

Speaking of maturity, I realized something last week. It's how to tell if you're mature yet.  Short answer: No.  You're not.  ButI'm going to let you in on my personal secret, a signal to let you know when you are.  Growing up, my mom always told me that she'd know when I really matured because I'd be planning ahead, budgeting money, saving, and all that nonsense.  I say nay.  I believe maturity has officially struck when I can take a pizza out of the oven (usually 425 degrees), and not burn the inside of my mouth to molten ash.  Why?  Because this means I have the willpower to be hungry, look at a fresh pizza, see that it is clearly still 425 degrees, and exercise the necessary restraint to wait until it is cool.  For those of you wondering, no, I have not yet reached this point.  As we speak, my mouth feels like I'm chewing on lava, and I have absolutely no sense of taste.

In my opinion, how somebody looks when they're walking is completely dependent on their arms.  Stay with me here.  Next time you're walking, test out a couple different arm motions.  Or just read this, stand up and give it a whirl.  Trust me it's interesting.  You'll find that the normal, loose-armed motion is that your left arm swings forward in time with your right leg, and vice versa.  Try swinging your right arm forward with your right leg, and left arm with your left leg.  Also, try not to laugh when your do this.  In your mind you think it looks funny, but it can't even compare to how it looks in real life.  Kind of like a flamboyantly gay prostitute with a limp in both legs.  The no arms-down-no-movement walk just makes you look like you think you're part robot, and the arms-up walk just makes you look like a confused nazi.  Now, after you've imagined/experienced all these, I just want you to know that I had this realization on the way to my chemistry lab, and tested all of these in public on the way there before I realized what I was doing.

Some people want to cure a disease.  Some want to be a professional athlete.  Some want to invent the next crucial step in technology.  Me?  My goal is to get through life without every serving jury duty.

Whilst stumbling through the internet, I came upon what I believe to be one of the most evil and genius creations to date.  It's called the Tyrant Clock.  It's an alarm clock that works like every other alarm clock out there......if every other alarm clock's goal was to completely ruin your life and crush every relationship you have.  Say you need to get up at 6am to study for an early presentation (or because vintage reruns of the original Sonic the Hedgehog are on, I don't judge).  You would set the alarm for 6am.  At 6 the next morning, the alarm would go off in a normal manner.  If you get up and turn it off, all is well.  If you keep sleeping, or just lie there uselessly, this is where Satan comes in.  If you don't quickly turn of the clock, it syncs to your phone, goes through your contact list, randomly selects a contact, and calls them.  If/When they answer, all they hear is the alarm blaring.  So you're in a deep sleep, your alarms wakes you up, and you think you'll just lay there for a second or two more to really wake up, when all of a sudden your diabolical alarm clock calls your ex-mother-in-law who also happens to be the professor you're giving the presentation to.  Don't ask me why you still have her number, you're the one that's too lazy to clean out your contact list.  Plus, you clearly have skewed judgement as you actually thought this life-crushing technology would be a worthwhile purchase.  You've got a lot on your plate, buddy, and it's all poisonous.  Good luck.

Why is it that cows are always abducted by aliens?  I mean, like in books and movies and stuff.  Really though, why cows?  Do aliens have a cow fetish?  Or do they just really really like milk?  Maybe cows make better pets if you really get to know them, and the aliens treat earth like a really really big adoption center.  I guess I'll never know....

There are certain places in this world that I avoid like fat people avoid scales.  One such place is the Home Depot.  This is for a multitude of reasons.  For starters, I'm one of those people that as soon as I get into a place like that, my dopamine levels skyrocket.  I become a tiny little kid, and a want to buy/test out everything.  I have to admit it's fun, but it's very detrimental to my public image.  Secondly, I love building, breaking,  and cooking a lot, but I have about as much experience with the Home Depot as Osama Bin Laden had with hugging people.  In other words, I can go in there and have two solid hours of fun, and never actually find the thing that actually caused me to go there in the first place. I mean seriously, look at that place.  It's like Walmart, but without the food and nobody looks insane.  You walk in, chanting to yourself the list of stuff you need so you don't forget it, and realize that the lightbulb section might not even be in the same zip code as you.  Oh but wait!  You're in luck!  There's a guy in an orange vest!  And he's only three blocks away!  Chances are by the time you get there, you've realized that he was either a dehydration-induced mirage, or he's real but "Sorry, I actually work in the Paint section, I'm just walking to the back."  Thanks a heap, jerk.  Anyway, after what seems like an hour of fruitless searching I usually find myself playing with the chainsaws or astroturf, then I just leave.

Today while playing Solitaire on my phone, I clicked the menu button and had the option to play Normal, Klondike, Vegas, or Multiplayer.  Multiplayer?  Multiplayer Solitaire?  Please explain.

Earlier, while in my chemistry lab, I had a revelation.  It's about apples.  I have no idea whatsoever of why I thought about it during my Chem lab, so don't even bother asking.  Anyway, what I figured out is that I judge people pretty severely if they're eating an apple, and more specifically on how they're eating it.  See if you agree with this:

   - Cubed Apples:  If someone's eating cubed apples, such as in a fruit salad, I really have no hard feelings. Personally I wouldn't choose to eat an apple at all.  I'm just not a fan.  And to those of you thinking, "Well, you know what they say: An apple a day keeps the doctor away." Well guess what?  So does a crowbar.

   - Sliced Apples:  If they are snacking on sliced apples, they either need to be a child, an especially health conscious person, or at home eating a lunch made by their mom.  Any other situation is unacceptable.

   - Whole Apples:  Pretentious Douchebag.  End of story.  Don't ask me why, but when I see somebody eating an apple whole, I immediately hate them.  And God help me if that person "cleans" the apple by wiping it on their shirt before they take a bite.  In that case, I have been known to scream, "You are no better than me!" and throw a chair at them.

Today in History:  June 21, 1893 was the premier of the 1st Ferris Wheel in Chicago.

Shout out to Ben, Meg, and Gray Bethard.

Remember that guy that gave up? Yea, neither does anybody else.

I'm not saying "Don't Give up," I'm saying if you're going to quit, blow something up on your way out.  Nobody will forget you after that, I promise......And you thought I was going to be all inspirational for a second there, didn't you?  Step up your game, reader.  I thought you were better than that.

Are you tired of me telling you to click the "Follow" button every time?  How bout this, I'll stop adding this to every blog when I get back up to 50 followers.  I wouldn't be doing this every time if it didn't determine how much I get paid from this thing.  If you've already clicked and followed, do me a personal favor and start bugging the HELL out of anybody and everybody you know to do it too.  I don't even care if they read this crap, just have em follow it.  Deal?  Deal.

I don't care how old I get, when I'm lying in bed and I hear a noise I am absolutely positive that there is someone in my house/apartment.  And it's the smallest noises that set it off too.  Now I'm not saying that I curl up in the fetal position and start crying, but it's no small deal either.  Of course, with my mind working the way that it does, it's actually a huge scenario in my head.  (Don't worry, there's an intermission halfway through.)  For instance, I'll be in my room, waiting to be overtaken by a peaceful slumber (For some reason I feel like I'm not qualified to "slumber".  I can sleep, rest, go comatose, etc, but I shouldn't be able to slumber.  I feel like you need to be a lumberjack to slumber, but that honestly could just be because lumber and slumber rhyme.)  Wow.  Tangent.  Anyway, I'll be lying in bed, lights off, drifting off, and all of a sudden the AC comes on and causes a piece of paper to fall off the counter in the living room.  Catastrophe Rating: - 4.  In my head, however, there is a Code Red Catastrophe Rating of 147.  That little sheet of paper falling may seem harmless, but what I heard was a large, possibly Russian, male attempting to kick down my door.  When a normal, stable, sane person is in this situation, they might panic for a second, then realize that they are just being overdramatic and would talk themselves out of it and go back to sleep.  Crisis averted.  Not me.  I heard that noise, and my mind takes off at a full sprint.  I sit up immediately and start channeling my inner Jason Bourne, wondering how I can take somebody down with a ball point pen and a People magazine.  My thought process goes something like this:  "Oh my God somebody is trying to break into my apartment, why would they want to do that? I don't have anything valuable in here at all, I mean except for my laptop but it's really slow anyway... Screw that though there is NO WAY I'm going to lose all my music again.  I will fight somebody.  Shit, what can I use to fight them?  All I have in here is an ipod cord and a shit ton of dirty laundry...What if they're here to kill me?? I haven't even done anything that wrong, I mean I accidentally stepped on the shoe of that asian chick after class but she didn't look mean and I said I was sorry.... What if she didn't hear me and her dad is the leader of the Triads?  Isn't that the Asian mafia?  Are they even in Atlanta?  Oh shit what if it's an entire group of Asian mafia hitmen?  I've only got one ipod cord, I can't possibly take down 10-15 mob members!  Should I hide?  I could jump out the window...no that would just put me on the porch...screw these damn looped apartment floor plans!"  Anyway, you get the idea.  All of that takes about 4 seconds to think.  And people wonder why I'm sporadic.....

Speaking of kids, have you noticed how things seem so innocent until there's a child in the area?  Like you'll have a favorite movie, and you think that it is the most pure, simple, clean movie you've ever seen.  Then you watch it with a kid and all of a sudden the whole movie is nothing but a bunch of evil demons having sex and killing people, and the only word they know how to say is "fuck".  I realized this during my career as a babysitter in high school (3 months).  Even the environment is dangerous.  I lived in my house in Georgia (honestly I'm not actually sure how long exactly, but it was a while), and I was there the entire time without a single house-related injury.  Then, again, the kids show up.  They're there for less than five minutes before I'm looking around at my previously innocent home, and now thinking, "This place is a fucking DEATH TRAP."  Just more proof that children ruin everything.

Fact of the Day:  In Chinese, the KFC slogan "Finger lickin' good" translates to "Eat your fingers off".

Shout out to Kristen Dufour.

Don't judge a book by its movie.

Especially if Ben Aflac is in it.  (Yes I realize that's not how his name is spelled, calm down.)

While you're here, mosey right over there to the right and click that white button that says "follow".  Do it.  Now.

Well, I'm back in Atlanta.  I'm going to call this section "Whine and Dine".  The weather here, to put it lightly, feels like death.  I walk less than half a mile to class, and by the time I get there I am sweating like an NFL linebacker after a 5 mile run.  The humidity hasn't been below 90% since I've been back.  I'd cry if there was any water left in my body.  On the up side I don't ever have to worry about my hot water heater being out of hot water.

My thought process:

I'm hungry.  Fridge?  Nothing.  Freezer?  Nothing..... Might as well try the fridge again.

I think my calculus teacher is insane.  Seriously.  She has a very intense way of talking.  Actually it's more like screaming.  And she looks like a little hobbit.  Also, she teaches calculus.  All signs point to loony.  She makes sounds effects when drawing graphs, too, though that's kind of entertaining.  My favorite/least favorite thing she does, however, is her speaking pattern.  When she talks, she always pauses right before that last word of the sentence.  Every single sentence.  Like even when there is nothing of importance whatsoever at the........end.  It would be extremely frustrating if it weren't hilarious, because when she does that, instinct takes over and everybody assumes she's pausing so we can answer/finish the sentence.  You know, like normal teachers do when they're asking a question, except she's not.  So basically you have the entire class trying to guess the last word of her sentences.  And just to be clear, we're wrong almost every time.

My lab instructor is indian with a Russian accent.  I keep thinking I'm used to it, but every time I hear him speak I twitch.  I'm convinced that there's a Russian chemist named Vladimir, I call him Vlad for short, hiding in one of the closets and throwing his voice to make it look like he's speaking.  Speaking of which, what ever happened to people throwing their voice?  Was that all just a big hoax?  If it's possible it's definitely some kind of evil darkness.

I've discovered many things about myself over the past 22 years.  (I have to admit, I typed 21 the first time.  I don't even know how old I am.  I'm going to take that and run with it, so from here on out, if you tell me to act my age, I take no responsibility for what happens afterwards.)  Anyway, one part of my self-realization experience revealed that I do not handle being ignored well.  So continue that train of thought, here are some other things I don't handle well:

-lack of sleep

-irrationally slow moving people

-hot potatoes

-basketballs

-fighter jets

Also, THIS is absolute black magic. There is no other explanation.

Fact of the Day:  At least ten people a year die from vending machines.

Just to clarify, We here at The Daily Tablet are hard working [cough], honest [cough cough], and stubborn workers.  We do not take kindly to demands and/or threats* so please don't even try.  You know who you are.

Shout out to Kayla Blof.....just kidding, shout out to Tess Armstrong.

*Threats involving theft, pain, or general discomfort will be immediately catered to.

Some people can't sleep because they have insomnia. I can't sleep because I have an Internet connection.

And this damn blog.  It's a curse.  An entertaining, money supplying curse.  

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Let's talk about cereal.  More specifically how much cereal sucks.  I have a friend, actually I have a lot of friends, but I don't want to brag and make the lesser people feel bad.  Anyway we'll call him Captain Crunch.  This specific human being is a completely normal person except for one detail.  Captain Crunch ingests more cereal than he does oxygen.  I'll refrain from the bad cereal puns, but this guy would literally inject cereal if it was possible.  So for his sake, I'm having an intervention.  Well actually it's not so much of an intervention as it is a list of reasons why cereal sucks a big one.  Let's begin: First, and this is honestly my biggest problem with it, is that it fills you up until you want to throw up....for all of 32 seconds.  Then you're starving again.  Captain Crunch's solution?  Eat more cereal.  He is so confused.  Second, cereal, no matter what kind, has about as much flavor as those styrofoam peanuts you pack with.  Why would I pay $5-15 for a bag of name brand or bargain cereal when I could snack on the cardboard boxes I have rotting in my closet?  Seems like the same thing to me...  Third, let's face it, milk is perfect as it is and cereal just ruins it, just like it ruins everything else.  Fourth, the only cereal that is remotely bearable is based on stupid little gimmicks.  I don't want to be thinking about little children while I'm eating, nor do I want to support a group of devilish kids tormenting a rabbit by withholding food.  It's just wrong.  Overall we can see that cereal is probably the worst option for breakfast you ever choose, and hence Captain Crunch is clearly insane.  I'm just going to go ahead and rank cereal as number 22 on my Things That Suck List, right in between pollen and kodak cameras.

Who was the genius that decided to put flour in paper bags?  Hey, we've got a ton of powder that we need to package, and it spreads like the flu and if it gets wet it looks like chunky mayonnaise, what should we do?  I know!!  Let's put it in ridiculously fragile bags made of paper that will rip almost every time they're touched!!  It's foolproof!!  No.  It's the worst idea since communism.  You suck.

In my numerous experiences on those pressurized metal tubes hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles per hour, also known as airplanes, I have discovered many things.  One of the most important things about a flight is your seat.  Usually it's a simple decision, you have a personal preference (front, window, aisle, etc).  Mine is that I want to be on the aisle because my legs hate me and continue to grow, making it extremely uncomfortable to fly.  However, I have recently found that the window seat is essentially the King of the plane.  Well technically I guess the pilot is the King, so the window seat is more like jerk son with an overgrown sense of entitlement.  Anyway, I sat in the window and realized that I alone had the ability to control my entire row.  Want to look out the window?  NOPE.  I feel like sleeping.  Want to sleep?  NOPE.  Here's a blast of sunlight straight to your face.  My favorite thing to do, especially to the idiots that think they own the entirety of the armrest, is wait until they start reading a book or magazine then shut the window.  They'll immediately turn on the overhead light to continue reading, I'll wait a minute or two, then open the window again.  The glare will force them to turn off the light.  I continue they give up.  Then I punch them in the face, give an evil laugh, and take their pretzels.  Okay that last part might just happen in my head, but it's entertaining nonetheless.  While we're on the subject, what happened to serving peanuts?  Does nobody do that anymore?  I was getting pumped because the airlines were really stepping up their peanuts game.  It went from plain salted to flavored, like....well I cant remember but they were good.  I don't even really like pretzels.  I mean I love the ones like Wetzels Pretzels, the soft ones.  Throw in some nice processed nacho cheese and I'm in heaven.  Unfortunately, packaging up 8-10 of those in bags and serving them to passengers would be incredibly problematic, not to mention expensive.  I don't even want to think how troublesome it'd be to try and keep them warm.  Nobody likes a cold pretzel.  Get in the game.

Woah, got a little off topic there.

While we're talking about Waffles, I'll let you in on a little tidbit I've also realized over the past couple years: There is a clear hierarchy in the fast food breakfast world.  To clarify, I do not consider the breakfast served at normal fast food establishments such as Burger King as actual breakfast.  If you do, you deserve the heart attack that's coming to you.  I'm talking about places like Waffle House.  Secondly, if you disagree with my ranking, you are either drunk, insane, or just stupid.  Or all three, in which case God help you.  My list begins with Waffle House sitting at #1.  The only explanation for that waffle is that on the eighth day God got hungry and came up with a waffle recipe, then sent it to the Waffle Hizzie.  And just in case you're still not sold, they make bacon waffles.  Yea, you heard me.  If you order it, they will put strip of bacon in your waffle.  All joking aside, I started crying the first time I heard that.  I don't want to spend to much time on this because I'm already hungry so I'll move on to number two.  Holding the silver medal in this category is Denny's.  Your first reaction may be "What?!?  Denny's?! That place is cancer on a plate!!"  Yes.  Yes it is.  And that's why it's #2.  One word:  Baconalia.  It is a menu of nothing but bacon dishes.  This is literally the only reason Denny's made the list.  The #3 spot is held by the International House of Pancakes.  IHOP is like the weird brother of Waffle House.  It's there, and it's definitely related, but it's just missing a couple things.  I can't even remember the last time I went to one.  Just not a fan.  Finally there's Huddle House.  I don't want to give it #4, so I won't.  It get's #14.  I don't even know what #4-13 are, but they definitely aren't Huddle House.  If IHOP is the weird brother, then Huddle House is the retarded cousin with dementia.  And that honestly might be who's cooking the food there too.  Blech.

There's a lot more going on in my head, but I'll post that in a couple days.

Fact of the Day:  Ian Fleming, the creator of the James Bond adventure novels, was also the author of Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang.

Shout out to Kristy Norman.