Which is bullshit, by the way. I spent nearly an eternity filling out the paperwork and it got tossed because of a technicality. On the upside, I have been warned that in lieu of a Christmas present my cousins may be entering me in a political race. I don't know where or what for, but either way I will be selling tshirts and buttons with "Vote for Tab!" and other slogans on them. Designs to come.
Based on the music that emanates from my apartment, I'm pretty sure my neighbors think an entire family of people lives here. Not that a playlist that goes directly from Taylor Swift to Tech N9ne to the Rolling Stones to Backstreet Boys to Black Keys to Sugarland isn't completely normal. Judge away.
While we're on the topic on music, I'd like to bring up a problem I have with Apple products. "A problem with Apple?! That's blasphemy!! Impossible!!" Wrong again, it's possible. Now don't get me wrong, I'd still sell my soul if it meant I'd get every new release from Apple. Hell I'd probably throw in my brother too. However, I seem to have a reoccurring problem with iPods. Every time I get an iPod it works flawlessly for the first year or two, then it starts acting funny. It doesn't break, mind you, it just starts messing with me. I'm sure you've all come across the problem on a computer or a lesser mp3 player, where some of the songs play louder than others. To be frank, I hate this. Also I hate school buses, but that's another story. Anyway, it's really obnoxious because you have to keep adjusting the volume. For me, it's not that simple. The songs, every one of them, play at the exact same volume on my computer. It's a beautiful thing and it makes me very happy. I put them on my iPod and everything works magnificently for a while. Then the world implodes. Keep in mind that this happens randomly and over night. There is no warning at all. One day I'm walking through campus, usually through a crowded area because there's a Safe Sex and Chicken rally in the courtyard (or something of the sort). Anyway, there I am, cruising along in a mild manner listening to my music at a very reasonable volume when all of a sudden BAM!! I'm now listening to Modest Mouse scream about the salty breath of the ocean at a volume roughly as loud as my little sister's scream when Justin Bieber comes on the TV. Don't get me wrong, I love the song, but I like my eardrums more, and hearing is one of those talents I was planning on holding on to for a while. And while my mind is tuned into to the searing pain coursing through my ossicles, eustachian tube, and cochlea, the rest of my body is doing a spastic combination of the Tango and the Stanky Leg. Sometimes I'll even yell out of shock, and if you're lucky it'll be the first few lyrics of the song. I have no control over this or anything that happens within that first minute. I am in excruciating pain, and everybody near me has what I believe is called the "bejeezus" scared out of them.* Nobody wins.
*Holy hell. "Bejeezus" is legitimately a word. My faith in humanity is thus restored.
One of the benefits of living in a very large and diverse city comes in the form of people watching. Now many of you know I am a huge fan of people watching, or as Steve Irwin (rest in peace) called it, "Sapien Stalking".* Anyway, I've found a new species. I haven't thought up a name for them yet, so I'm open to suggestions.** This particular species is predominately male, around 40, and usually Caucasian. They are dressed in business attire from head-to-toe save for one detail: The eyes. Known as the gateway to the soul, the eyes are always covered, which leads me to believe these creatures are soul-less, or that they don't have eyes. Either way, on every specimen I've found so far the eyes are protected with sunglasses. Not just typical sunglasses, though. These middle-aged white businessmen are sporting sunglasses that should only be worn by Alpine skiers, Lance Armstrong, or a combination of the two. I realize that was probably not where you thought his was going, but these guys really are ridiculous. You're not in the middle of a triathlon. You aren't an athlete. You're not even an Oakley rep. You're forty-five, fat, and have a receding hair line. The only reason you'd run is if the oven timer was beeping and even then it's more of a power-walk. You're not fooling anyone Mr Businessman 2.0, now go get some normal sunglasses. I'll even let you have a pair of Maui Jim's.
*Do not research that.
**Except stupid ones.
I've added something else to my Hate List. For those of you keeping track, it currently looks like this:
1. Anything associated with the University of Florida (namely Tim Tebow)
2. Mayonnaise
3. PETA
4. The Smurfs
5. The little hole in the airplane window
6. Flamingos
7. Wheelbarrow Races
8. Cereal
9. School buses
The list is FAR longer than that, trust me, but those are the important ones. Anyway, the new addition to my Hate List is anybody that drives VW Golf (the car). The thing is, I don't hate them when they aren't driving the car, and probably couldn't even pick them out of a lineup. As soon as they get in that car, though, my only desire is to see them run over by an unusually fast steam roller. I have absolutely no reasoning for this whatsoever.
I was in a gas station the other day and was reaching for my usual Nestle Strawberry Milk, and realized I hadn't had a Yoohoo in forever. I went for a walk on the wild side and grabbed the Yoohoo. After the experience I came to decide that Yoohoo's target demographic is people who haven't had a Yoohoo in a while.
Fact of the Day: The cheetah is the only cat that cannot retract its claws.
More Interesting Fact of the Day: In Scotland it is illegal to be drunk and in possession of a cow.
Shout out to Mallory Schwartz.
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