Nerd humor, it never gets old. I’m sorry for those of you who are terrified of anything related to math.
Speaking of terrying things, a while back I went to the grocery store after recently hanging out with a nurse friend, I'll call her Mrs Green. Of course, being a nurse she is a very healthy person, and therefore my worst enemy. Don't get me wrong, she's a perfectly decent person, wonderful company, and even occasionally funny, but she "eats right" and as a result is as evil as it gets. It's not that I'm angry with healthy people for not eating junk food (though personally I just do not understand it), it's that whenever I spend time around only healthy people, they tend to rub off on me. I know what you're thinking, "Tab Hirschey! HOW COULD YOU PARTICIPATE IN SUCH HERESY?!?!?" I am weak-willed, and personally do not care much for being judged by someone I hardly know, so you can go swallow a grenade. I'll let you know when I need your opinion. Anyway, after spending several days around Mrs Green, I noticed she was drinking the same green-colored smoothie-ish thing every morning. I didn't try it, but was curious as to its origin and ingredients, so I inquired. She told me it was just a healthy mix of [good for you] and that was the end of that conversation. Once I returned to my side of the country, I texted her and got the recipe, figuring, in my corrupted state of mind, that I would like to give this so called "smoothie" a try. So I went to the grocery store, got the list of required items and set about making it. The first ingredient was Kale, which should have been a building-sized red flag saying, "DON'T DO THIS. RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" However, I ignored that flag, Googled what Kale was, purchased it, and continued making the smoothie. Now let's pause here for a second. At this particular point in my life I like to think that I am beginning to break into the adult world. I am not in any way saying I'm there, but I'm at least peering over the gates. That being said, I am beginning to accumulate some pretty decent kitchenware. My blender, in particular, was no shabby piece of equipment. But when I started making this horrible, life-ruining drink, everything went to hell in a hand basket. I turned on the blender, following the instructions perfectly, left it on low, and went into my room for no more than a minute as it blended. When I got back into my kitchen, it smelled like an entire factory of computers was on fire and sounded like some mixture of Gollum and Optimus Prime was screaming bloody murder. I dove towards what was left of my blender and frantically yanked out the power in chord in what I can only assume was seconds before the entire apartment building imploded. Somehow the drink was blended enough to look somewhat edible, so after cleaning out the shards of metal and hatred, I gave it a try. To be completely honest it wasn't that bad, once you got past the consistency of damp sawdust and flavor of grass with a hint of lemon. That first batch lasted a couple mornings, and by the next week I had forgotten about the horrid experience that occurred when I attempted to make what we had by then named "Hulk Drink", which was extremely appropriate considering the damage done to Blender #1. Anyway so we went to the store, got the ingredients along with a blender that was adamant that it could handle blending everything short of uranium. Guess what? It lied. Two batches of Hulk Drink, two blenders down. Not a bad ratio if you're into blender destruction. A terrible ratio if you're a college student that's now down a good bit of money just because you were attempting to be slightly considerate of your body. Long story short, the moral of this story is there is no point at all in trying to be good to yourself, because something large, green, and probably smelling like grass will come along and completely ruin you.
WARNING: Parts of this next paragraph could be considered insensitive, offensive, and all around mean. If you wish not to participate, please feel free to go whimper in the corner like a little bitch, then skip to the next paragraph.
If you're like me, and God I hope you aren't, then you think about crazy shit. And that's not a broad category. I'm talking about like actually going crazy. I've spent many an hour thinking about how if I went crazy, what type of crazy would I go? Me and my roommate had a brief chat about this one time and based on that I’ve come up with a couple different kinds of crazy:
- The first is what I call “Meth Crazy”. People that have gone Meth Crazy are there by...I don't know...say, doing too much meth? These people usually don't know what time, day, month, year, or even season it is, and probably not even what planet they're on. They usually have messed up faces that look like they're trying to eat their own nose, and they're often talking to themselves. Really unsettling if you’re not into that sort of thing. (Side Note: If you’re into that sort of thing, you’re probably Meth Crazy.)
- There are also “The Kinks”. No, not the band. People that are Kink Crazy are the mildest of the group, and usually can pass as sane, or at least eccentric. They are mild-tempered, never really completely out of it, and can see, hear, and respond to normal stuff, but they interpret the world completely in their own way. Just gengerally quirky. Also, they usually are panicking about an inevitable attack of the aliens, or ranting about being abducted, but that;s as bad as it gets. Needless to say, these are the pansies of the crazy world.
- Then there are “The Batties”. Batty Crazy, short for Bat-Shit Crazy, is what I would hope to be if I had to sign out of the rational world. When you meet one of these people, it is as terrifyingly uncomfortable as it can possibly get. On the up side, chances are they won't really notice you because they are horribly busy screaming at an imaginary person across the street about how they need to borrow a nickel to end the Holocaust. The imaginations on these people are legendary.
- Of course there's also the category of crazy that includes people like Lindsay Lohan, Tracy Jordan, and any character John C Reilly has every played, but I figure it's best just let those slide.
Sadly I haven't gone completely lunatic-status yet, and it's kind of a let down.
Speaking of let downs, most of my friends have been serious disappointments lately. I will admit that my perception of being a Debby Down-Syndrome is slightly ridiculous, because for me if you're not willing to drop what you're doing at 3am Eastern Time and fly to Russia to drink vodka and build a life-size Vladimir Putin snowman then you might as well not be my friend. That being said, many of my friends have been slacking on even the simplest of tasks, such as cross-country visits and skydiving. I'm looking at you specifically, Wondertwins.
Fact of the Day: Gustav Eiffel, designer of the Eiffel Tower, had both dyslexia and a paralyzing fear of heights.
Shout out to Jenny DuFour.
No comments:
Post a Comment